Molly leaned across the sticky table at “Cupcake Caper,” a café whose name was clearly ironic given the quality of their coffee. “So, explain it to me again, Bill. We’re robbing… a bouncy castle?” Bill, a man whose permanent state was a half-eaten Danish and a hopeful twinkle in his eye, gestured with a crumb-laden spatula. “Not the bouncy castle, per se. That’s just a strategic diversion. We’re targeting the… treasure chest.” “The treasure chest,” Molly repeated, deadpan. “You mean the gift table at Timmy Henderson’s 7th birthday party.” “Minor semantics,” Bill waved a dismissive hand. “The principle is the same. High value items, low security, maximum… joy for the new recipients.” Molly raised an eyebrow, a skill honed over years of Bill’s increasingly ludicrous plans. “You’re going to resell Captain Comet action figures on the dark web, aren’t you?” “Diversification, Molly, diversification! Think of the ancillary items! Helium balloons for… various atmospheric measurements. Streamers for… festive camouflage. The possibilities are endless!” “The possibilities for getting tackled by an overzealous parent hopped up on lukewarm lemonade and mini quiches, maybe. Bill, this is a children’s party. There will be clowns.” Bill’s eyes lit up. “Excellent! Clowns are naturally distracting! We can blend in! I’ve always thought I’d look rather fetching with a bright red nose.” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, Bill. You are not putting on a clown nose. You are also not juggling. And you are definitely not attempting to make balloon animals.” “But the kids would love it! It builds rapport! Think of the intel we could gather on their tactical deployment of sugar rushes!” “Our tactical deployment, Bill, is getting in, grabbing the goods, and getting out before little Jessica starts screaming about her new pony Barbie.” “Pony Barbie, you say? High resale value. Good intel, Molly. See, this is why we’re a team.” “Okay, plan A: you, disguised as a slightly less inept party entertainer, create a diversion with a very unfortunate magic trick where the birthday cake goes missing.” “Disappears entirely? Bold, Molly! I like it! A classic misdirection! What about rabbits? Can I make a rabbit appear?” “No rabbits. Just the cake. Make it vanish. Then, while everyone is either horrified or impressed by the sudden lack of frosting, I swoop in, grab the presents the moment they’re laid out on the table, and we exit via the garden gate.” “The garden gate. Ah, the element of surprise! But what if a child sees us?” “Then you distract them with your extensive knowledge of dinosaur facts, which you seem to possess for some reason.” “Triceratops had three horns, Molly. Important scientific data! And their frills were for… well, there’s some debate.” “Just make sure they don’t see us. And whatever you do, Bill, do not, under any circumstances, get involved in the sack race.” Bill looked crestfallen. “Not even a little bit? I’ve been practicing my hop.” “No hopping. We’re thieves, Bill, not Olympians. This is not a competitive sport.” “It could be! We could make it a competition! The team who steals the most presents wins!” Molly sighed, taking a fortifying gulp of truly dreadful coffee. “Just stick to the cake, Bill. And try not to interact with anyone under the age of ten.” “No promises, Molly. The allure of a well-executed ‘pull my finger’ joke is strong.”