"What's the plan here, Bill?" Molly asked, sipping her coffee as she consulted the blueprints of the kids' play center spread out on the rickety kitchen table. Bill, a wiry man in his mid-thirties with a mop of curly brown hair, leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. "We go in posing as clowns. Kids love clowns, right?" Molly raised an eyebrow. "You mean, we dress up as clowns?" Bill shrugged. "We dress up as clowns." Molly shook her head. "I don't know, Bill. I'm not exactly the 'dressed as a clown' type." "Come on, Molly," Bill wheedled. "It'll be fun. We'll paint on some red noses, squeeze into some oversized pants – " "And honk a horn that never stops honking," Molly finished for him, rolling her eyes. "No way. I'm a sophisticated thief, Bill. I don't do 'clown.'" "Fine," Bill sighed. "We'll come up with something else. What do you suggest, then?" Molly studied the blueprints, her brow furrowed in concentration. "We could pose as catering staff. It's a kids' party, they'll have plenty of food and drinks. We could just blend in." Bill shook his head. "Too risky. What if they ask us to make a sandwich or something?" Molly snorted. "You can't even make a decent sandwich, Bill. Let alone in front of a room full of screaming kids." Bill glared at her. "Hey, I resent that. I'm a perfectly capable sandwich maker." Molly raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Then what's your secret ingredient?" Bill hesitated, his face scrunched up in thought. "Uh...mayonnaise?" Molly burst out laughing. "That's not a secret ingredient, Bill. That's just mayonnaise." Bill looked at her, offended. "Hey, don't knock it. Mayonnaise is a highly underrated condiment." Molly grinned, still chuckling. "I'm sure it is, Bill. Anyway, as I was saying – catering staff is out. What else could we be?" Bill thought for a moment. "How about maintenance workers? We could go in, say we're there to fix a leaky pipe or something, and then just grab the presents and get out