Molly leaned back in the rickety kitchen chair, her fingers drumming against a blueprinted layout of the suburban birthday venue. Bill slouched opposite her, munching on a stale donut. "So," Molly said, raising an eyebrow, "you really think we can pull this off?" Bill swallowed loudly. "Five-year-old's princess party. How hard can it be?" "These parents are like secret service for their precious offspring," she muttered. "One wrong move and we're busted." "Relax. I've got a clown costume." Molly stared. "You're going as a clown." "Precisely. Who suspects the clown?" "Literally everyone with basic common sense," she retorted. "Kids these days watch true crime documentaries in the cradle." Bill wiped powdered sugar from his chin. "My costume has a fake red nose. Foolproof." "Right. Because nothing says 'trustworthy' like a suspicious clown at a children's party." He grinned. "We'll be swimming in wrapped Nintendo Switch boxes and limited edition LEGO sets before anyone realizes." Molly rolled her eyes. "Your definition of 'swimming' better match the actual haul." "Trust me," Bill winked, "this is going to be epic."