Molly tapped a perfectly manicured finger on the crayon drawing spread across the kitchen table. “Okay, look here. This is the ingress point.” Bill squinted. “The what?” “The way in, Bill. The doggy door.” “Right. The flappy thing. Got it.” “At fourteen-hundred hours, the entertainment arrives,” she continued, ignoring him. “A clown named Patches. That’s our window of opportunity.” “We go in dressed as clowns?” Bill’s eyes lit up. “I’ve still got that wig from the bank job.” “No, we do not go in dressed as clowns. And you used that wig to clean the gutters. While everyone is distracted by the… balloon animals, you create a diversion at the circuit breaker.” “A diversion?” he asked. “Like what? Juggling?” “No, Bill. You flip the switch. Plunge the bouncy castle into a state of flaccid darkness.” “Flaccid darkness,” Bill repeated, a reverent whisper. “I like that. Sounds poetic.” “Focus. While you’re heroically deflating their primary source of joy, I’ll be in the ‘gift zone’.” She tapped a crudely drawn circle labelled with a skull and crossbones. “I’ll be acquiring the assets.” “The presents.” “The assets. We use the correct terminology.” “Right. The assets. What am I doing after the flaccid darkness part?” “You’re the lookout. And the getaway driver,” Molly stated flatly. “Can’t I acquire a few assets? I’m a great asset-acquirer. Remember the Great Vending Machine Job of ‘22?” Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. “You got your arm stuck trying to get a bag of corn chips. No.” “It was a family-sized bag. A high-value target.” “This is a six-year-old’s birthday party, Bill. The highest value target is a LEGO space station. We need precision, not brute force and a tragic love of processed snacks.” “Okay, fine. So, I flip the switch, you grab the LEGOs, then we what?” “Then we exfiltrate through the rear patio door. Meet at the rendezvous point.” “The ice cream truck two streets over?” “Exactly.” Bill leaned back, stroking his chin. “I just have one question.” “Please don’t,” she muttered. “What if there’s cake left? I’m just saying, thematically, it feels important for us to acquire a celebratory confection.” “We are not stealing cake, Bill.” “But it’s probably got sprinkles.” “No. Cake.” He paused. “What about the little bags of stuff they give you when you leave the party?” “The party favors?” “Yeah! The secondary assets!” She stared at him, a muscle in her jaw twitching. “We are professional thieves.” “Exactly! And professionals don’t leave secondary assets on the table. That’s just sloppy work.” Molly let out a sigh that seemed to deflate her whole body. “Fine. If there’s a clear opening, you can acquire the party favors. But the primary objective is the gift pile.” Bill slammed a hand on the table, grinning. “Operation Sugar Rush is a go.” “We are not calling it Operation Sugar Rush.”