The dimly lit garage smelled of motor oil and desperation. Molly spread a crude map across an old workbench, her fingers tracing the layout of the suburban home with practiced precision. Bill leaned against a rusted toolbox, twirling a set of lock picks between his fingers. "You really think a kids' birthday party is worth the risk?" Bill asked, one eyebrow raised. Molly snorted. "Have you seen the gift table in these upper-middle-class neighborhoods? We're talking designer toys, electronics, collector's items. Some of these kids get gifts worth more than our last three jobs combined." Bill scratched his chin. "The security's gonna be tight. Parents everywhere, grandparents, probably some bored teenagers looking to be heroes." "That's why we're going in during the cake cutting," Molly explained, pointing to a specific spot on her hand-drawn map. "Maximum chaos, maximum distraction. While everyone's watching little Timmy or whatever blow out candles, we slip in through the side entrance." "How long we got?" Bill adjusted his black beanie, pulling it lower over his ears. Molly checked her watch. "Forty-five minutes. Party starts at two. We'll be in and out before anyone realizes the presents are gone." Bill chuckled. "Stealing from children. We've hit new lows." "Technically, we're stealing from their parents," Molly corrected. "And those parents probably wrote off half these gifts on their taxes anyway." The map showed careful notations - security camera blind spots, potential escape routes, the precise location of the gift table near the sliding glass doors. Years of planning heists had made Molly meticulous, and this suburban smash-and-grab was just another job. "We'll need the large duffel bag," Bill said. "And those noise-canceling bags for the individual packages." Molly nodded, already mentally cataloging their equipment. Slip-on shoes for quiet movement. Dark clothing that blended with the shadows. Electronic jammers to interrupt any potential alarm systems. "One thing," Bill said, a hint of concern in his voice. "If we get caught, this looks bad. Like, really bad." "We're not getting caught," Molly said flatly. "We've done harder jobs in more complicated spaces. This is child's play." She grinned at her own pun. Bill rolled his eyes. The plan was simple. Wait for peak distraction. Move quickly. Grab everything valuable. Exit through the side door. Load up the van. Drive away like nothing happened. Just another day at the office for two professional thieves who had long ago abandoned any pretense of moral high ground. The birthday party was just another opportunity, and Molly and Bill were nothing if not opportunistic.