“Right, the target,” Molly said, tapping a finger on a laminated floorplan of the bouncy castle emporium. "Operation: Pinata Plunder." Bill squinted. “A children’s birthday party? Molly, are we really this desperate?” "Desperate times, Bill, call for extremely lucrative present piles. Think about it. Everyone's distracted by face paint and sugar rushes. Prime picking." "The security, though. Miniature humans with a penchant for screaming and pointing. They're like highly caffeinated, tiny little alarms with sticky fingers." “Exactly,” Molly grinned. “They’ll be too busy being miniature humans to notice anything. Our main obstacle is the buttercream mountain of a cake and the general aura of uncontrollable joy." “And the parents,” Bill added. “Those gladiators of the party circuit. They’ll have an eagle eye on their little darlings and their little darlings’…loot.” “That’s where the ‘distraction protocol’ comes in,” Molly said, pulling out a small, highly reflective disco ball. “Behold: the ultimate in shiny object syndrome triggering. Plus, I think there’s a magician involved. He’ll be our unwitting confederate.” Bill rubbed his temples. “A magician. And a disco ball. You’re not suggesting…what I think you’re suggesting, are you?” Molly just winked. “It’ll be a piece of cake, Bill. A very large, very sugary piece of cake.”