"Bloody hell, Molly," Bill exclaimed, rifling through the blueprints spread out before him on a coffee table. "This is an impossible job! We're not even officially supposed to be here, let alone planning something as ridiculous as this." Molly rolled her eyes, tugging at the string on her short-sleeved blouse. "Come on, Bill. When I say you're going to retire, I mean it. Once we pull this off—" "—you'll give me a five-bedroom house out in the suburbs and adopt a bunch of kids to keep me feeling productive?" Bill finished for her. She grinned and shrugged. "Exactly." Bill sighed and propped himself up on an elbow. "Alright, let's get to it. First things first, what's with the string on your underwear?" A slight frown wrinkled the corners of her eyes before she quickly composed herself. "It's not underwear. It's a tactical G-string. Helpful for snatching things from thirty feet away." He chuckled. "Oh yeah? And what else?" Molly pointed to a pile of Everlast boxing gloves stacked on the nightstand next to the couch. "Professional hand sanitizers." Bill shook his head. "Not in the slightest." He rummaged through her duffel bag, pulled out a utility knife, and snapped it open. "This'll be much more helpful for curating my boxed collectibles." Molly snatched it away. "Hey! I need that to assist with the lights." "At thirty feet?" Bill's voice was filled with suspicion. "I've seen your sniper skills. Do us all a favor and just memorize the electrical grid." "Stop being so cynical and procrasti-criticizing," Molly said, throwing the knife into a pile of feminine products and brand-making props for her line of makeup. "You're clearly jealous about me having the perfect job. Here, here comes the one-man police escort squad—" A loud knock on the front door shook Bill from his thoughts. "Bloody hell, Molly. Bellhop time?" He grumbled under his breath. Molly shot up and darted into Bill's room before slamming the door. "Yes! Thank goodness." She whirled around and poked her head nervously out the door. "Just don't mention this. I'm playing it fast and loose and—" The door banged open. A tall, muscular man entered, startling Molly. "Miss Harper, is your little boy in here too?" Molly looked confused for a second before brushing past him. "You're very noisy, Mr...is it John?" John smiled, his eyes trained firmly on her throat. "I don't know." He licked his lips. "But you get my hopes up that I'll be getting a sexy 'Ms.' or even a 'Mrs.'." Molly cleared her throat. "Bill Harper." John's eyes twinkled with a predatory gleam. "Expect I'll be seeing you two more often. Bad objective. You and the boy, coming with me." "Where are you taking us?" asked Molly, still unsettled. "After tucking me in his Armani?" "You let me worry about that," said John. "Right now, you two need to get your little party started. I'm trusting you, young man. I'm trusting you to make the right call." Bill cleared his throat. "Mmm. Listen, sorry about all that. We're getting those presents delivered anyway. As a birthday—it's a gag gift." John's mouth twisted into a snarl. "Of course, Bill." Molly stayed quiet but kept her eyes on John. He didn't seem exactly to buy it. Bill grabbed onto her hand—his way of saying to let it go—as he turned to exit the room. Molly couldn't believe Bill had her threaten her life safety so easily! Well, she'd get back at Bill later when they put on that silly suit. She shook away the dead thoughts and refocused on the job. "The electric points will need cued. Additionally, our next line of defense to the anti-gravity arrows needs to be triggered." Bill nodded. "You got it." Molly and Bill engaged in the complex planning for the upcoming heist, ready to take on the world with style and laughter.