"So, Bill, we hit the birthday party at exactly 2:15," Molly said, twirling her lock pick between her fingers. "That's when they'll be singing Happy Birthday." "I don't know, Mol. Kids' presents? Even for us, that's low." Bill shifted uncomfortably on the park bench. "Low? These aren't regular kids. They're Westfield kids. You know what I got for my sixth birthday? Socks." "Still..." "Little Timmy Matthews is getting a PlayStation 5, two iPhones, and a dirt bike." Bill whistled. "Rich blood." "Filthy rich. And the parents? Insurance fraudsters. Remember that 'accidental' yacht fire last summer?" "The one where they conveniently removed their Picasso first?" "Exactly. We're basically Robin Hood here." "Robin Hood stole from the rich and gave to the poor." "And we're poor, Bill! Connect the dots!" "What's our exit strategy?" "Ice cream truck. I got Miguel to park out back. We load the presents in with the popsicles." "That's... actually brilliant." "I know. You in?" Bill sighed. "Fine. But if one kid cries, I'm out." "Trust me, these kids won't even notice with their bounce castle and petting zoo."