The unmarked van parked three houses down from the party venue, engine off but radio still softly playing. Molly drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, her gaze fixed on the bouncy castle visible in the backyard. "This is low, even for us," Bill said, adjusting his fake mustache in the passenger-side mirror. "Stealing from kids?" Molly sighed. "We're not stealing from kids. We're stealing from parents who buy overpriced garbage to impress other parents." "Semantics." Bill pulled out a crude drawing of the house layout. "Still feels wrong." "Wrong pays the rent this month." Molly pointed at the diagram. "Target is the gift table. Should be in the rear sunroom, based on the Instagram stories the mom's been posting all week." Bill squinted at the house. "What kind of five-year-old has a birthday with a gift registry and valet parking?" "The kind whose parents we don't need to feel bad about," Molly replied, checking her watch. "Okay, party started thirty minutes ago. Parents have dropped their spawn and left. Only the brave few chaperones remain." "And the clown," Bill added grimly. "And the magician," Molly corrected. "Mr. Marvelous. I checked his Yelp reviews. He does a twenty-minute disappearing routine that's apparently 'mesmerizing.'" Bill snorted. "Kid standards are low." "That's our window. When Mr. Marvelous starts his show, we enter through the side gate. Grab, bag, and gone in three minutes." "What's our cover if someone spots us?" Molly reached behind the seat and tossed a clipboard at Bill. "We're the entertainment inspectors. Making sure the bouncy castle meets county regulations." "That's actually not bad." "Don't sound so surprised." Molly adjusted her baseball cap. "You ready?" Bill checked his watch. "Hold on. What about the cake? Do we steal the cake too?" "Why would we steal the cake?" "I didn't have lunch," Bill said defensively. Molly stared at him. "We're not stealing a child's birthday cake." "Just asking where the line is," Bill muttered. "The line is at stealing presents, not at ruining the emotional core of the birthday ritual." Bill nodded sagely. "Because we have principles." "Exactly," Molly said, starting the van. "We have very specific principles." "What if the presents are terrible? Like educational toys?" "Then we've done the kid a favor." Bill pulled out his phone. "Look at mom's Instagram. Kid's name is Braxton. With an 'X'." "Definitely educational toys, then." "Poor Braxton." "We're basically Robin Hood," Molly said, putting the van in drive. "Robin Hood stole from the rich and gave to the poor," Bill pointed out. "We're stealing from the rich and giving to ourselves, who are demonstrably poor." Molly gestured to their van's peeling interior. "Close enough." Bill nodded. "I can live with that moral calculus." "Great, because Mr. Marvelous starts in five minutes, and I want to be in position." Molly pulled the van forward. "Remember—" "I know, I know. No cake." "No cake," Molly confirmed. "But if you see any of those goodie bags..." "Now you're talking my language," Bill grinned, adjusting his fake glasses. "Tiny toys and stale candy, here we come."