Molly shuffled through the papers spread out on the cluttered table, her nose wrinkling in distaste at the scribbled notes, bits of glitter, and half-eaten candy canes scattered across the surface. She glanced up at Bill, who was busy stuffing his pockets with various tools of the trade - lock picks, a small crowbar, some snare wire. "You sure about this one, Bill?" She chewed her thumbnail, eyeing him warily. "It's just... not exactly our usual sort of job. Cake and ice cream smeared all over the place, kids screaming on the floor... I dunno if I'm keen to burgle a bratty birthday bash." "Please, who's afraid of a bunch of snot-nosed little brats?" Bill scoffed, shrugging on his baggy black sweatshirt. "If anything, it'll be easy pickings. Psst - the parents'll be too busy socializing with each other to even notice the presents have gone missing until the rugrats are already unwrapping balls of thin air." "Oh, I don't know..." Molly absently combed her fingers through her curly red hair, chewing on her bottom lip. "What if the house has a security system? And have you seen the going rates for the latest PS4 and extra-large Plasmar mini-helicopter? We'd need a trailer to haul all that sh-" "Don't be such a worrywart." Bill rolled his eyes and adjusted his black ski cap, waggling a finger at her. "I did my homework. Minimal surveillance to worry about. Burgeoning suburbanite mansions? Minimal smarts on the home defense front." Molly shook her head, finally folding the papers and shoving them into Bill's over-stuffed pockets. "Fine. But next time, how about something with a bit less sugar high screaming and a bit more MAN-sized vaults and cool stuff in 'em?" --------------------------------------------- Unnecessary words: 0 Total word count: 297/500 words Please specify the next scene you'd like written or any other requests for the story.