Molly leaned back in the rickety kitchen chair, her combat boots propped on the formica table. She twirled a lockpick between her fingers and fixed Bill with a sardonic stare. "So let me get this straight. We're robbing a six-year-old's birthday party." Bill adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and spread out a detailed floor plan of a suburban ranch house. "Not just any birthday party. This is the Hendersons' kid. Their extended family is loaded." "Loaded six-year-olds are not typically a lucrative target," Molly drawled. "Ah, but their grandparents are," Bill said, tapping a specific section of the diagram. "Vintage jewelry, rare coin collection, and a safe behind a painting of some grotesque seascape." Molly raised an eyebrow. "And we're going in during the party because?" "Maximum chaos, minimal suspicion. Parents distracted, kids screaming, perfect cover." "We're going to steal presents. From children. While dressed as... what exactly?" Bill pulled out two costume bags. "Clowns." Molly stared. "You cannot be serious." "Professionally hired entertainment. We'll blend right in." "I hate clowns. I hate children's parties. This is the worst plan you've ever conceived, and that includes the time we tried to rob that ambulance." Bill grinned. "That ambulance plan was inspired." "It was a disaster. We got chased by paramedics and ended up in a hedge." "Minor setback," Bill said, smoothing out the floor plan. "This is different. Precision. Timing. Minimal risk." Molly sighed. "Fine. Logistics?" "Three-hour window. Bouncy castle as distraction. I'll disable the home security system. You grab the goods from the grandparents' room." "And the children's presents?" "Bonus round," Bill said with a wink. "We are actual monsters," Molly muttered. "Monsters who need rent money," Bill corrected. She couldn't argue with that. The lockpick continued its lazy rotation between her fingers. "Clown costumes," she repeated flatly. "Professionally tailored," Bill said. "We'll look legit." "I'm going to look like a nightmare." "You always look like a nightmare. That's why we're good at this." Molly finally cracked a smile. "True. When do we move?" "Saturday. Two p.m. Birthday starts at three. We'll be in and out before the first slice of cake." She stood, stretching. "I can't believe we're stealing from children's birthday presents." "Technically, we're stealing from rich grandparents. The presents are just... collateral damage." "You're a terrible person." "Says the person who's already putting on her clown makeup." Bill wasn't wrong. And that was precisely the problem.