Molly sprawled across the cramped, cluttered floor of their safehouse, a mess of scribbled notes, empty pizza boxes, and crumpled maps surrounding her. Bill leaned against the worn couch, eyes fixed on the grainy security footage playing on the laptop perched on a stack of old DVDs. The soundtrack of screaming children and off-key birthday songs filled the air. "Alright, so we've got two cameras, one guard who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else, and a guest list that reads like a diaper manufacturer's dream," Molly summarized, twirling a pen around her finger. Bill grunted, not looking up. "Presents are the real prize. I'm talking triple-digit gift cards, the latest toys... we could fence this haul for a small fortune." Molly's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I'm more excited about the cake. I mean, who doesn't love a good smash-and-grab with frosting on top?" Bill raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on his lips. "You're a weird thief, Molly."