Molly pored over the blueprints of "Kiddie Kingdom" spread across their makeshift planning table, a worn Formica dinette set in Bill's cramped apartment. Bill, sipping on a lukewarm energy drink, rubbed the grit from his eyes. "Alright, so we've got the ingress covered – ventilation shaft in the ball pit," Molly said, tapping the diagram. "Sounds like a bad respiratory decision waiting to happen," Bill replied, "but I like it. What's the present-to-kid ratio looking like for this shindig?" "Estimated thirty kids, each averaging three gifts. That's ninety presents, Bill. We're talking upwards of five grand in potential loot." "Potential loot that's probably 90% plastic crap and 10% decent Lego sets," Bill said, raising an eyebrow. "You sure this is worth the risk of being trampled by sugar-high toddlers?" Molly grinned mischievously. "That's the best part – we're not just thieves, Bill. We're the ultimate party crashers."