Bill slumped onto a barstool at Mrs. Normandy's. "Little kid's birthday party," he groaned. "Who targets a kid?" Molly pulled a stack of photos from her purse. "Mother works for a hospital. Insurance alone'll absorb the payout. It's the neighbor's kid's party. Parents aren't coming. Kept thems up here by the fixer." Bill thumbed through carefully arranged pictures of thrilled kids. "So just party crashing, then?" "Naw, crashing I can get us drunk. We're here for the presents." He choked back a laugh. "On the guests? Better wrap that as a gift then." Molly grinned. "Kids' bedrooms. Parents establish spheres of influence with a quick demand the day before. Easy to enter, just requires scope and planning." Bill raised an eyebrow. "Us?" "Us," she nodded. "You're resourceful, Bill. Good snapshot too. Watch." Molly whipped out a pocket framework, locked eyes with the boy in the photo, and spun it at speed. The boy grinned like a fool. Not until the boy started screaming that it was real or a side effect of the photo bomb did Molly put the package aside for party security. Bill looked at her. "Get this photosynthesis working, we're in the clear. ślub z fryzjerem Mofass bring us all the pictures. But us two? Bully tactics and photo bombs, Molly? You ever think this might be a waste of a few pockets of expensive time?"