The back of the bakery van smelled like stale cupcakes and bad decisions, which, frankly, was just another Tuesday for Molly and Bill. Molly adjusted her glittery party hat—stolen from a dollar store—and squinted at the blueprints spread across Bill’s lap. "You *sure* this is the right place? Because last time you ‘scouted’ a job, we ended up in a knitting circle." Bill didn’t look up from the diagram, his mustache twitching like a nervous caterpillar. "Positive. The kid’s tenth birthday party. Parents are loaded, presents are top-tier, and security’s just a guy named Greg who thinks ‘patrol’ means eating cheese puffs in the garage." Molly snatched a mini sausage roll from the box between them and pointed it at him. "Greg sounds like my kind of guy. But how do we even *get* in? Last I checked, ‘crashing a kids’ party’ isn’t exactly a stealth move." Bill grinned, revealing a crumb of sausage roll stuck in his teeth. "Easy. We’re the *entertainment*." He pulled out two matching neon vests from under the seat, both emblazoned with *"Balloony McFunface & His Sparkle Sidekick!"* in glitter glue. Molly stared. "You *cannot* be serious." "Dead serious. Kids love balloons. Parents love cheap labor. And we love *not getting caught*." He tossed her a vest. "Suit up, Sparkles. We’ve got a piñata to rob."