“So, just to be clear, Molly, we’re breaking into a bouncy castle.” “It’s a strategic entry point, Bill. High accessibility, low adult presence, minimal chance of a guard dog. Unless it’s a very enthusiastic poodle attending a birthday party.” “And the target? Still a children's party, right? Not, like, the crown jewels disguised as a particularly gaudy piñata?” “The presents, Bill. The presents. Think of it as a pre-emptive redistribution of wealth, before the tiny tyrants even have a chance to unwrap a single plastic gadget.” “Plastic gadgets. That’s what we’re risking our criminal careers for? No priceless antique porcelain dolls? No Faberge eggs made of Play-Doh?” “It’s about the principle, Bill. And a very lucrative side hustle in the after-market for slightly-used superhero action figures. Besides, the security will be… unique.” “Unique. You mean a parent who’s had three mimosas too many wrestling a six-year-old over a drum set?” “Precisely! They’ll be too distracted. Our window of opportunity is during the ‘cake and chaos’ phase. Optimal sensory overload conditions for our operation.” “Cake and chaos. I’m writing that down for our next briefing note. So, the plan is, I create a diversion with my uncanny ability to imitate a T-Rex undergoing dental work, and you… what exactly are you doing, Molly?” “I’m the cleaner, Bill. I’ll be circulating amongst the parents, complimenting their choice of organic carrot sticks, subtly identifying the best present stashes.” “Present stashes. Under the table, presumably? Or are we talking a full-on gift vault disguised as a cupboard full of juice boxes?” “One can dream, Bill. But yes, likely under a table. Or in the garage. Some parents, bless their hearts, are very organized about their impending present avalanche.” “Present avalanche. Another one for the notes. So, I unleash the dinosaur, you charmingly pilfer the loot, and then we… what? Make a grand escape in a bubble machine?” “Too obvious, Bill. We blend. We become one with the excited children, perhaps even participate in a round of musical statues. It’s all about maintaining cover.” “Musical statues. Molly, this is a new low, even for us. I once had to pretend to be a professional mime to get out of a tight spot, but musical statues? I have no rhythm.” “That’s the beauty of it, Bill! You’ll look like any other parent trying their best. Total immersion. Now, about your dinosaur impression… can we maybe add a touch more… terror? Less constipation?” “Hey! My T-Rex is a work in progress. It’s got emotional depth. It’s contemplating its existence. But fine, more terror. So, the bouncy castle… are we going in full tactical gear, or…?” “No tactical gear, Bill. Think subtle. Think children’s entertainer gone rogue. Perhaps a slightly stained clown nose and a balloon animal that looks suspiciously like a getaway car.” “A balloon animal getaway car. You’re brilliant, Molly. Absolutely bonkers, but brilliant. This is either going to be our easiest score yet, or we’re going to end up finger-painting in a holding cell.” “Either way, Bill, it’ll be memorable. And probably involve a lot of glitter.”