Locked away in Molly's dining room, hidden from prying eyes, Bill handed a crisp stack of British banknotes to his partner, twirling them deftly in his fingers. "If all goes to plan, this'll work out perfectly," Bill grinned. Molly snatched the bills out of his hand, rummaging through her pockets until she pulled out a wad of American money. "Works for me," she said, as she plopped the cash on the table, shaking it out in unison with Bill's. "Well then," Bill began, inching closer to Molly, "looks like our next job is gonna be a real treat. Can't get much better than breaking into a kid's bedroom." "I'll drink to that," Molly chugged the rest of her Jack Daniel's straight outta the bottle. "I got a map scouted out, two back door-exits, and—" "You know what?" Bill interrupted her, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "Why don't we just let last night's couple rent out the Ritz. I'm in." As they stared at each other, eyes wide and wickedly postilicated, Bill smashed his lips against Molly's in a sloppy kiss. "Let's do this motherf (...well...), tonight." As Molly laughed, knocking her remaindered bottle off the table and appears to land on a similarly distressed red Chex mix bag, bringing everything to life in a sporadic, jungle-y soundtrack, they both begin to think—at least to themselves—this was going to be their craziest night yet.