Molly twirled a toothpick between her fingers as she slouched in the booth of the nearly empty diner. Her eyes darted nervously to the entrance every few seconds while Bill studied a napkin sketch with intense concentration. The overhead fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting a sickly glow over their conspiratorial huddle. "So you're absolutely certain about this job?" Molly asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, stealing from kids seems like a new low, even for us." Bill looked up from the crude drawing of a suburban house layout and rolled his eyes. "It's not just any kids' party, Molly. It's the Henderson twins' birthday bash. Those little monsters are turning eight, and their daddy is the hedge fund manager who ruined my cousin Vince." Molly absently stirred her coffee, which had gone cold twenty minutes ago. "Still doesn't make it right." "You know what's not right? Twenty-five little trust fund babies getting more presents in one afternoon than most kids see in a lifetime," Bill countered, tapping the napkin with his index finger. "Besides, we're not taking their teddy bears. These are high-end gifts we're talking about. Designer clothes. Latest gadgets. Probably even jewelry." She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's the plan then?" "Simple. We pose as last-minute entertainment. I called the party planner pretending to be from the clown agency. Told them their regular guy had food poisoning, but not to worry because the 'backup team' would be there." "Clowns? You want us to dress as clowns?" Molly groaned, slumping further into her seat. "I hate clowns. Everyone hates clowns. They're literally the creepiest form of entertainment ever invented." "Exactly," Bill replied with a smirk. "Nobody questions a clown wandering around a party. Plus, those big pockets can hide all sorts of things, including small expensive gifts." Molly drummed her fingers on the table. "And how exactly do we make off with the loot without two dozen sugar-hyped children and their phone-wielding parents noticing?" "That's where the genius comes in," Bill said, flipping the napkin over to reveal another sketch. "The gifts will be in the sunroom here. We perform for fifteen minutes in the backyard, then you create a distraction while I slip away and load up. The party's dinosaur-themed, so I've got a T-Rex head that'll go over my clown costume." "A T-Rex head," Molly repeated flatly. "Over a clown costume." "Kids love dinosaurs!" "And the distraction I'm supposed to create?" Bill grinned. "Balloon animals. Really complicated ones that fall apart. Trust me, nothing causes chaos like disappointed children with deflating balloon giraffes." Molly stared at him for several seconds before finally cracking a reluctant smile. "This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you've ever had." She paused. "So when do we start practicing our clown routine?" "That's the spirit!" Bill exclaimed, reaching across to high-five her. "And don't worry about the routine. How hard can it be to act like idiots for fifteen minutes?" Molly raised an eyebrow. "Have you met you?"