The aroma of vanilla and overcooked hotdogs hung in the air, a potent reminder of the target. Molly, perched on a flimsy garden swing, meticulously cleaned invisible grime from her fingernails. Bill, meanwhile, was meticulously cleaning actual grime from his kneepads. “So, the bouncy castle,” Molly began, her voice a low murmur. “Pressure sensors,” Bill replied, without looking up. “And a toddler in a bumblebee costume who looks suspiciously agile.” “Right. What about the gift table? Covered in a pink gingham cloth, I believe.” “Infrared tripwires disguised as glitter, according to the blueprints.” He pulled a crumpled napkin from his pocket, unfurling it to reveal a crayon drawing of a smiling sun. “And a security guard disguised as a clown. Name’s Jiggles.” Molly sighed, long and dramatically. “Jiggles. Of course. This is going to be harder than the taxidermy museum.” Bill finally looked at her, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll get ‘em. Every last plastic unicorn and glow-in-the-dark slime kit.” Molly cracked a smile. “Just as long as we don’t have to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ too many times.”