Molly pressed her back against the fence, peering through a knothole at the chaos of bouncing children beyond. Bill crouched beside her, adjusting his fake mustache. "I still think this is our dumbest job yet," Bill whispered. "You said that about the golf cart heist." "That was also extremely dumb." Molly pulled out a crumpled party invitation from her jacket. "According to this, present time is in fifteen minutes. That's our window." "Our window to steal from children. Actual children." Bill tugged at his mustache nervously. "What happened to us? We used to have standards." "Standards don't pay rent." Molly scanned the backyard. A clown was making balloon animals near the pool. "Besides, these aren't just any presents. Rich lawyer's kid. Probably got a new iPad, designer sneakers, maybe even jewelry." "From who? His rich lawyer infant friends?" "Focus, Bill." Bill sighed. "Fine. What's the plan?" "I go in as a caterer. You're the backup clown." "I'm the what now?" "Backup clown." Molly gestured at his outfit. "Hence the costume I specifically told you to wear." Bill looked down at his striped shirt and oversized pants. "I thought we were robbing a mime convention later." "There's no such thing as a mime convention." "There should be. Very quiet. Organized." Molly ignored him. "The presents are in the dining room. I grab the good stuff, pass it to you through the kitchen window, you load the van." "What if someone notices you're not actually serving food?" "I'll carry a tray. People are idiots." "Reassuring." Bill scratched his fake nose. It was three sizes too large. "What about the clown? Won't he notice another clown?" "Professional courtesy. Clowns don't question other clowns." "That's not a real thing." "How do you know?" "Because nothing you just said makes sense!" Bill hissed. A balloon popped in the distance and he jumped. "This is insane. We're going to get caught and go to prison for stealing from a seven-year-old's birthday party." "He's nine." "Oh, well, that makes it totally fine then." Molly checked her watch. "Look, you want to pay back your bookie or not?" "I want to pay him back with money we stole from adults. Normal heist money." "There's no such thing as normal heist money." "Bank money! Casino money!" Bill's mustache was sliding off. "Not Lego money!" "Stop being dramatic." Molly straightened her apron. "In and out. Quick and clean. Nobody gets hurt." "Except emotionally scarred children." "They're rich. They'll get therapy." Bill slumped against the fence. "I hate that I'm actually considering this." "That's the spirit." Molly grinned and squeezed his shoulder. "Ready?" "No." "Perfect. Let's go." They stood simultaneously. Bill readjusted his mustache one final time and pulled out a bag of balloon animals from his pocket. "Where did you even get those?" Molly asked. "Dollar store. If I'm doing this, I'm committing to the bit." "Now who's being dramatic?" They headed toward the gate.