The cramped van smelled faintly of old pizza and desperation. Molly sat cross-legged on the cracked leather seat, staring at the crumpled party invitation in her hands. Bill paced behind the driver's chair, jingling keys as if the sound alone would make the plan clearer. "So, let me get this straight," Molly said, eyebrow raised. "We're breaking into a kids' birthday party to steal gifts. Not a bank, not a jewelry store, but a gathering of tiny sugar-fueled humans." Bill shrugged, grinning. "Exactly. No guards, no alarms, just balloons and that one kid who's always crying because he lost his balloon." Molly snorted. "And what about the parents? The grown-ups? They might catch us. Ever consider that?" Bill waved a dismissive hand. "Pfft, parents will be busy picking up spilled juice and negotiating with the sugar rush. We sneak in during cake time, quick grab, and out. Easy." "Easy," Molly repeated, tapping the invitation. "Cue the part where I remind you that my last ‘easy’ job ended with me hiding in a dumpster wearing a lampshade." Bill paused, rubbed the back of his neck. "Okay, fair point. But this is different. This is children's party territory. We blend in." "Blend in? You in a "Winnie the Pooh" costume isn’t exactly covert." Bill pulled a crumpled bear suit from the van's backseat and threw it at her. "Exactly. No one questions a giant bear hobbling around party guests." Molly threw the suit back with a laugh. "Great. So my role is 'grumpy cat' or 'sassy unicorn'?" "Unicorn," Bill said, pulling a horn headband from his pocket and plopping it on his own head like a crown. "You can be the princess of pilfered presents." Molly gave a mock bow. "Your majesty, shall we discuss the plan? Or just wing it with your impeccable charm?" Bill’s grin widened. "Wing it is boring. Here’s the master plan: We roll up right at the party start, maybe pretend to be entertainers or balloon animal makers." Molly raised an eyebrow. "And when do we steal the loot?" "At cake time," Bill said, eyes sparkling. "Everyone’s distracted by sugar and sticky fingers. We snag the pile of gifts by the gift table and make a clean getaway." Molly fiddled with the invitation again. "Are we sure the gifts will actually be left unattended? Who just leaves dozens of presents unattended?" Bill shrugged. "Parents can’t corral a party with five clowns on stilts, two bouncy castles, and at least one sugar-induced meltdown. Chaos breeds opportunity." A small pause hung between them as the distant sound of children laughing floated on the breeze. "Alright," Molly said, standing and stretching. "I’m in. But if I end up frosting-covered and crying more than the kids, you’re carrying me out." Bill laughed. "Deal. Now, let’s go get those gifts. Operation ‘Sugar Heist’ is a go." Molly nodded, the ridiculousness of their plan sinking in, but the thrill was undeniable. It was criminally silly, but it was their kind of crazy—just the way they liked it.