Molly slid into the booth across from Bill, who was hunched over a crayon drawing of what appeared to be a house with stick figures scattered around the yard. "Tell me you're not using crayons for the blueprints again." "They were on sale," Bill said, not looking up. "Besides, it feels thematically appropriate." "We're robbing a kid's birthday party, not entering kindergarten." "Technically, we're liberating presents from their capitalist prison." Bill added another stick figure near what looked like a bouncy castle. "This is Little Timmy Henderson's eighth birthday extravaganza. Twenty-seven confirmed guests, plus parents." Molly grabbed a red crayon and drew an X over the bouncy castle. "What are you doing?" "That's our entry point." "Through the bouncy castle?" "Think about it. Everyone expects thieves to come through windows or doors. Nobody suspects the bouncy castle." Bill considered this, tapping the green crayon against his chin, leaving a small mark. "How do we get out with the presents?" "Same way. We deflate it, stuff everything inside, and roll it away like a giant burrito." "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Bill paused. "I love it." Molly pulled out her phone and showed him a photo. "Reconnaissance?" "Pinterest. Mrs. Henderson posted her party planning board. Look at this present list. Xbox, Nintendo Switch, enough Legos to build an actual house." "These eight-year-olds live better than us." "Not after Saturday they won't." Molly zoomed in on another image. "Security?" "One teenager manning the gift table. Probably Tyler Henderson, the older brother. Intel suggests he'll be on his phone the whole time." "Perfect. What about the parents?" "Wine bar in the corner. Mrs. Henderson's book club is co-hosting. They'll be three Chardonnays deep by the time we strike." Bill added several wine glasses to his crayon masterpiece. "Costumes?" "Already sorted. You're Bingo the Clown, I'm Sparkles the Fairy Princess." "Why do I have to be the clown?" "Because I already bought the wings, and they're non-refundable." "Fine. But I'm not doing balloon animals." "You literally just have to exist and be creepy. Natural talent." Bill threw a crayon at her. She caught it without looking. "Transportation?" "Ice cream truck. Already painted 'Definitely Not Stolen Ice Cream' on the side." "Subtle." "Thank you." Molly stood and pocketed the yellow crayon. "Saturday, three o'clock. Henderson house." "Sparkles?" "Yeah?" "What kind of parents schedule a party during naptime?" "The kind who deserve to have their gift table liberated." They shook hands across the table, Bill's green-stained fingers meeting Molly's. Outside, an actual ice cream truck drove by, playing a warped version of "Pop Goes the Weasel." They watched it pass in silence. "Think we should feel bad about this?" "Bill, last year these kids got a petting zoo with alpacas. Alpacas." "Good point. Let's steal everything."