Molly peered through the glass window of the lavish townhouse, her dark hair tied back in a messy bun. "I'm telling you, Bill, this is the score of a lifetime. Little Johnny Suzuki's 8th birthday bash, and the spoiled brat got a pony! A pony, wrapped in a bow! You should have seen the smug look on the delivery guy's face." Bill adjusted his round glasses, always the skeptic. "So, your brilliant plan is to waltz into a kid's birthday party, hmm? While the little tyke watches with tears streaming down his cherubic face? Better luck next time, Molls." She scowled at him. "Not waltz in, dipstick. Phase 1: We arrive early as catering staff. Phase 2: While the Zooks and their elite friends are preoccupied with charades, we skip out and swap catering attire for the animatronic pony costume. Phase 3: 'Here comes horsey, little Johnny!' Congratulations on your pony! And ta-da! We ride off into the sunset. Genius." Bill snorted. "And you've chosen to break in during the one birthday party with the richest, most paranoid parents in the city? The ones with the ex-Navy SEAL nanny?" "That's why I chose it, you inbred! Paranoia means fewer guards. And we're catering staff, not rigging the nuclear codes. Even if they discover our ruse, we'll be long gone before the designer baby even notices his pony Writing." "Baby. Singular. Inbred. Writing? What are you saying?" "Baby... singular... inbred... writing? Dammit, I think my earpiece is on the fritz." "It's not the damn radio, you simpleton! You said 'designer baby' and ran your rant together. I'll believe your plan is sound when you can speak English in complete sentences without chlorine damage." Molly clenched her fists, cursing the dense fog of testosterone. "Ya know what, Bill? If you can't handle a straightforward heist, maybe one of us should stick to the M&Ms." Bill raised one eyebrow. "M&Ms?" "Nevermind. Suck my left one." "With pleasure." A sleek black van pulled up. Molly scowled. "Too late to back out now. We stick to the plan and play it cool. Chances are, no one will even look twice at the catering staff. Smelling like garlic goes a long way." Bill sniffed a sleeve. "I don't smell garlic." Molly sighed. "Figured. Just stay close and try to keep up. And if little Johnny does start crying, let me handle it. Kid's already insufferable, don't need you aggravating the situation." "Understood. There's still a chance this won't end in a hail of gunfire and me, you, and that pony as the keynote attraction at the 2-for-1 zoo day." "You watch too much TV, Bill. Merry Christmas, to us."