"So a child's birthday party?" Molly raised an eyebrow. "That's what we've come to?" "Listen, it's genius." Bill spread the crude crayon invitation on the table. "The Franklin kid is turning six. Rich parents, richer guests. Those presents aren't just teddy bears." "We're stealing from children now. Wonderful." "Not children. Adults who buy overpriced garbage for children who won't appreciate it." "How do we get in?" Molly asked, twirling her lock pick. "We're the clowns." "Clowns? I don't do clown." "Well, princess, times are tough. I've got the costumes in the car." "This is a new low, Bill. Even for us." "Think of it as redistribution of wealth. From their toy chests to our pockets." "And how exactly do we exit with armfuls of presents?" "That's the beauty part," Bill grinned. "We're performing the magic act. Things are supposed to disappear." Molly sighed. "If I end up on some suburban mom's Instagram making balloon animals, I swear to God..." "Relax. We'll be in and out in thirty minutes. Just follow my lead and smile. Kids love smiles." "I hate you." "Perfect. That's exactly the kind of enthusiasm I'm looking for."