The folding table creaked under the weight of Bill's meticulously drawn blueprints of the suburban birthday party venue. Molly leaned in, her red hair falling across her face as she traced a finger along the carefully marked entry points. "These decorations are our perfect cover," Bill muttered, adjusting his glasses. The room was cluttered with surveillance photos of bouncy castles, balloon arches, and tables laden with wrapped gifts. Molly's eyes gleamed with calculated excitement. Children's parties were always chaotic, which meant maximum opportunity and minimal attention. She pointed to a side entrance near the kitchen. "We'll slip in during the piñata chaos. Parents never watch presents during sugar-induced mayhem." Bill nodded, calculating the potential haul. Superhero-themed wrapping paper suggested expensive electronics and collector's items hidden beneath cartoon characters. Their specialized bags were designed to muffle any accidental rustling. "Forty-five minutes," Bill calculated. "We grab, we go." Molly smirked, already mentally counting their potential profit. The birthday boy would remember this party for entirely different reasons than his parents intended. Just another day in their peculiar profession of opportunistic theft, disguised as social camouflage.