Molly leaned back in the creaky kitchen chair, her fingers drumming against a half-empty coffee mug. Bill was sprawled across the opposite side of the table, a detailed blueprint of a suburban birthday party venue spread between them. "So you're telling me we're going to crash a seven-year-old's birthday party?" Bill asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not crash. Strategically infiltrate," Molly corrected, tapping a red marker against the blueprint. Bill snorted. "Semantics. We're still stealing birthday presents from children." "Not just any children. These are upper-middle-class suburban kids whose parents probably bought them duplicates of everything anyway," Molly said with a dismissive wave. "That's your ethical justification? 'They probably have extras'?" Bill leaned forward, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. Molly shrugged. "Look, these birthday presents are worth at least fifteen grand. New gaming systems, limited edition collectibles, designer electronics. Kids don't appreciate that kind of haul." "Right, because we're such moral paragons," Bill drawled. "Exactly," Molly grinned. "Now, the party's at 2 PM. Bouncy castle, magician, the whole ridiculous suburban spectacle. We'll blend in as party entertainers." Bill studied the blueprint. "Which entrance provides the best escape route?" "Back door near the kitchen. Less foot traffic, closer to the service alley where our van will be waiting," Molly traced the route with her marker. "Costumes?" Bill asked. "I've got two complete party entertainer outfits. One clown, one magician's assistant. Peak suburban party camouflage." Bill chuckled. "A clown. You're going to be a clown." "Don't sound so surprised. I look great in oversized shoes and a red nose," Molly said, her tone deadpan. "I bet," Bill muttered. "What's the extraction plan for the gifts?" Molly pulled out a detailed inventory list. "Compact rolling suitcases, disguised as equipment cases. We'll load them during the magic show. Maximum chaos, minimal suspicion." "And if something goes wrong?" Bill asked. "Improvise. Create a distraction. Maybe I'll make some balloon animals go rogue," Molly said with a wink. Bill shook his head. "You're insane." "Says the guy who's going along with this," Molly retorted. They shared a quick, conspiratorial smile. The blueprint between them represented more than just a party layout—it was a canvas of potential mischief, a roadmap to their next big score. "Ready to steal some birthday joy?" Molly asked. Bill grabbed his coffee. "Let's go crash a kid's party."