Molly adjusted her glittery party hat and leaned against the bakery’s display case, eyeing the inflatable castle across the street. "Alright, Bill, we’ve got a problem. The kid’s birthday party is *inside* the castle. How do we hit a target that’s literally a bouncy fortress?" Bill wiped frosting off his sleeve—he’d been sampling the cupcakes "for research." "Easy. We go in as clowns. No one questions clowns at a kids’ party. We’re basically invisible." "Clowns? Bill, the last time you wore face paint, you scared a toddler into next week. The kid’s still in therapy." "Details. Besides, we’ll be *fun* clowns. I’ll juggle. You’ll do… whatever it is you do." "I *do* not do anything. That’s the problem. I’m not a performer, I’m a thief. My skills are picking locks and not getting caught, not honking my nose for applause." Bill grabbed a balloon animal from the counter and twisted it into a sad-looking dog. "Then be the *quiet* clown. The mysterious one. Kids love that. You’ll be the deep, brooding clown who hands out presents instead of stealing them." Molly snatched the balloon dog and deflated it with a sharp *pop*. "No. We’re going in as *parents*. Rich, distracted parents who ‘forgot’ their kid’s gift and need to ‘borrow’ a few from the pile." Bill groaned. "Molly, we don’t *look* like parents. You’ve got a tattoo of a dagger on your neck, and I still have last week’s prison orange in my go-bag." "Exactly. We’ll be *cool* parents. The kind who let their kids eat cake for dinner and don’t ask where the presents went. Trust me, no one questions the chaotic ones." She adjusted her hat again. "Now, how do we get past the piñata?"