Molly traced the birthday party layout with her fingertip, squinting at the meticulously drawn diagram. Bill lounged against the wall, picking lint from his sleeve and looking bored. "How many presents?" Bill asked, his voice low and casual. Molly tapped the sketch. "Seventeen confirmed gifts. Wrapped in those ridiculous sparkly papers. Kid's turning seven." The room was cool, their planning precise. Maps of the suburban house covered the table, each entrance and potential security point marked in different colored highlighters. Bill's specialty was electronic systems; Molly knew physical infiltration. "Parents hired a clown. That's our window," she muttered, rotating the diagram. Wind rustled outside, casting shadows across their planning space. Bill adjusted his glasses, calculating potential entry points. The birthday party would be a goldmine - expensive electronics, collector's items, potentially some rare action figures that could fetch serious cash on the underground market. Molly's finger stopped on a side entrance near the kitchen. Her lips curved into a thin smile. "We go in during the piñata. Maximum distraction, minimal resistance." Bill nodded, a silent agreement between professional thieves about to turn a child's celebration into their personal shopping spree.