Molly leaned back in the rickety kitchen chair, twirling a lockpick between her fingers. Bill was hunched over a crude map of the suburban birthday party venue, his forehead creased with concentration. "You really think this is worth our time?" Molly asked, arching an eyebrow. Bill looked up. "Trust me, rich suburban kids get the good stuff. PlayStation 5s, limited edition LEGO sets, designer electronics." "We're stealing from children?" Molly snorted. "Technically, we're stealing from their parents," Bill corrected. "Besides, these are the kind of parents who buy their kids everything and appreciate nothing." Molly drummed her fingers on the table. "And the security?" "One weekend babysitter, grandparents in the corner eating cake, zero actual supervision." Bill grinned. "It's like they're begging us to rob them." "That's cold, even for us," Molly chuckled. "Cold? This is strategic wealth redistribution," Bill said, dramatically air-quoting. "Plus, these kids won't even remember half the gifts by next week." Molly rolled her eyes. "Fine. But I'm picking the getaway vehicle, and if it's not smooth, this whole plan is your fault." Bill raised his coffee mug. "To children's birthday heists."