Molly leaned back in the rickety kitchen chair, her fingers drumming a staccato rhythm against the scratched formica table. Bill was hunched over a hand-drawn map of the suburban house, red marker circling potential entry points with manic precision. "You're telling me we're risking everything for a bunch of kid's birthday presents?" Molly asked, one eyebrow arched skeptically. Bill looked up, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and desperation. "Not just any presents. These are high-end, top-tier gifts. We're talking limited edition LEGO sets, collector's gaming consoles, probably at least two smartwatches worth five hundred each." Molly snorted. "And how exactly do you know all this?" "I have my sources," Bill said, tapping the side of his nose. "The birthday boy's dad is some tech executive. These aren't your grandma's hand-knitted sweaters." The room fell silent as Molly studied the map. The house was typical suburban—two stories, attached garage, a sprawling backyard with a wooden fence. The birthday party was scheduled for Saturday afternoon, which meant maximum chaos and minimum security. "We'll need to dress the part," Molly muttered. "Something that screams 'responsible catering staff' or 'party entertainment'." Bill grinned. "I've got clown costumes." "Absolutely not," Molly said flatly. "We are not walking into a children's party dressed as clowns. Too conspicuous." "Fine. Catering staff it is. I know a guy who can get us authentic uniforms." The planning continued, with meticulous details being hammered out. Entry point, timing, escape route, potential obstacles. They discussed the layout of the house, the likely location of gifts, and the precise moment when parental attention would be most divided. "Kids that age get distracted easily," Bill explained. "Cake, presents, games—there'll be a solid fifteen-minute window where we can slip upstairs and grab the goods." Molly rolled her eyes. "And if we get caught?" "We won't," Bill said with a confidence that bordered on delusion. "Trust me." "Your 'trust me' has gotten us into trouble before," she remarked dryly. The map was soon covered in annotations, color-coded paths, and potential contingency plans. What had started as a seemingly ridiculous scheme was transforming into a carefully orchestrated heist. "One more thing," Molly said, her tone serious. "No children get hurt. No trauma. We're thieves, not monsters." Bill nodded. "Professional courtesy. In and out, clean and quick." Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. Another absurd mission was about to begin, another line of risk was about to be crossed. All for the promise of high-end birthday loot and the thrill of the perfect steal.