"I can't believe we're actually planning this," Molly whispered, adjusting her binoculars as she peered through the café window at the party supply store across the street. "What? Having second thoughts about stealing from tiny humans?" Bill took a long sip of his coffee, leaving a foam mustache on his upper lip. "No, I'm having second thoughts about working with someone who can't even drink coffee properly." She tossed him a napkin. "And they're not exactly tiny humans. It's a sweet sixteen party." "Sweet sixteen? Even better. Rich parents, expensive presents." Bill wiped his mouth and leaned forward. "Did you see the guest list?" "Forty-two teenagers with more disposable income than common sense. The haul could be massive." "You know what teenagers give as presents these days? Gift cards, Molly. Gift cards." Bill rubbed his hands together. "Untraceable, easily convertible to cash." "Plus whatever electronics the parents are giving her," Molly added, finally lowering the binoculars. "The mom ordered a custom bounce house. Who gets a bounce house for a sixteen-year-old?" "Rich people with more money than... than..." "Common sense?" "You already used that one." "Focus, Bill. The party's tomorrow at three. The presents will be piled in the study while everyone's in the backyard with the questionably age-appropriate bounce house." Bill pulled out a small notebook. "Okay, so we go in through the side door during the cake cutting?" "No, during the TikTok dance competition." Molly rolled her eyes. "It's on the schedule the party planner left on her desk." "There's a TikTok dance competition?" "Welcome to 2023, Bill. Try to keep up." "Fine. So we have what, ten minutes while they're all busy doing... whatever that is?" "Fifteen. The winner gets a special prize or something." Molly finished her tea. "The study has a window facing the garden shed. We can load everything straight into the van." "What if someone comes in to use the bathroom?" "That's why we're dressing as waitstaff. We'll just say we're moving the presents to the gift table outside." Bill scratched his head. "Where did you get waitstaff uniforms?" "From the actual catering company. They had a very convenient delivery van with very inconvenient security." "You stole from the caterers? That wasn't part of the plan!" "Neither was you showing up to our stakeout in Crocs, but here we are." "They're comfortable!" "They're orange, Bill. Orange." "At least I'm not the one who stole from another business. That's like... criminal inception." Molly stared at him. "We're literally planning to rob a teenager's birthday party." "Yeah, but that's... different. Somehow." Bill slumped in his chair. "Do I really have to change my shoes?" "If you show up tomorrow in those Crocs, I'm leaving you to explain to forty-two angry teenagers why all their presents are missing." "Fine. But I'm keeping them in the van as backup." "Whatever helps you sleep at night." Molly stood up, gathering her things. "Just be on time tomorrow. And Bill?" "Yeah?" "You still have foam on your face."