Molly pored over the blueprints of "Kiddie Kingdom," a sprawling entertainment complex that hosted children's birthday parties by the dozen. Her partner, Bill, lounged on the couch behind her, tossing a rubber chicken into the air and catching it with a grin. "Okay, so here's the layout," Molly said, tracing a finger over the diagram. "Party room 3, where little Timmy's bash is being held, is located on the east wing, second floor. We've got a service elevator at the end of the hall, but it's only accessible with a keycard." Bill snatched the chicken from mid-air, his expression turning thoughtful. "Keycard, huh? That's like putting a 'Steal Me' sign on the presents." "Tell me about it." Molly rolled her eyes. "I swear, these party planners think they're hosting Fort Knox, not a bunch of sugar-high five-year-olds." "We'll just have to get creative, then." Bill set the rubber chicken aside and ambled over to Molly's workspace. "What's the present situation looking like?" Molly raised an eyebrow. "According to the party invite, there are at least two dozen gifts, including a rumored-to-be-there brand-new 'Galactic Blaster' toy." Bill's eyes lit up. "The one with the laser tag attachment? We can fence that for a pretty penny." "Priorities, Bill," Molly said dryly. "We need to focus on getting in, grabbing everything, and getting out before the kids burst into tears because their presents are gone." "Right, right. Spoilsport." Bill leaned against the table, eyeing the blueprints. "You think we can blend in with the party crowd?" Molly snorted. "You, in a bright orange 'I'm with Stupid' t-shirt and a fanny pack, blending in with suburban parents? I don't think so." "Hey, this shirt is comfortable!" Bill protested, looking down at his attire. "And the fanny pack has excellent storage capacity." "For all the Cheetos you'll inevitably eat," Molly muttered. "Hey, those are for energy!" Bill held up his hands in mock defense. "Now, are we going to come up with a real plan, or just rely on my dazzling good looks to distract the party staff?" Molly face-palmed. "We'll go with the plan. I've ordered us a pair of 'Party Pal' costumes – you know, the giant, furry characters they hire to take photos with the kids." Bill's face lit up. "Oh, I'm going to make an amazing 'Sparkles the Clown'!" "Try not to get too into character, Bill. We don't need you scaring the kids into a group therapy session... before we steal their presents, that is." Bill chuckled, the sound low and menacing. "Too late for that, Mols. I've already been practicing my creepy clown smile."