"Listen to the rhythm," Bill whispered, tapping his foot on the dashboard of the van. "It’s all in the timing." "I’m listening, Bill. I’m hearing a loud siren and my own panic." "No panic. Only planning. We need to be in and out of the balloon animal factory... I mean, the Miller residence before the guests do. It’s the window of opportunity. Three minutes tops." "Bill, look at the backyard. There are twenty kids. Twenty screaming velociraptors. And they all have cake." "Exactly. Cake makes them lethargic. That’s why I brought the sprinklers." "Sprinklers? In November?" "Pressure washers. It’s a distraction. Once the backyard is covered in slush, the toddlers will abandon ship. We slip in while they are distracted by the slip and slide of shame." "This is brilliant. I love the chaos theory." "It’s not chaos, it’s mathematics. Now, get the stealth suit out of the bag. You have to change behind the SUV." "Again? I just put this on. I’m not Batman, Bill. I can’t flip my cape and change into black tactical gear instantly." "You’re not the Dark Knight, you’re a distraction. Just yank the hoodie over your head and run. If anyone asks, you’re the birthday clown's forgotten apprentice." "And what am I supposed to do while you make off with the presents?" "You stand watch. You are the Silent Sentinel. You do not speak, you do not move, you just block the driveway. Simple." "I’m going to prison, aren't I?" "You’re going to be a hero. Just hold the line. Okay, advance." "This is ridiculous. We are thieves, not... Santa’s helpers." "Heroes need suits. Now go. The coast is clear. The sprinklers are firing. Let's grab the loot and vanish into the night." "If we get caught, I’m blaming the sprinkler."