The backroom of *Sugarplum’s Sweet Shoppe* smelled like burnt caramel and regret, which, Molly decided, was just the right ambiance for planning a heist. She kicked her feet up on a wobbly card table, sending a stack of half-melted lollipops cascading onto the floor. Bill didn’t even flinch. He was too busy adjusting the straps of his fanny pack—*his* fanny pack, which he’d insisted on calling "tactical" despite it being bedazzled with tiny unicorns. "Alright, genius," Molly said, tossing a crumpled napkin at him. "Walk me through this masterpiece of yours. How, exactly, are we infiltrating a *children’s birthday party* without getting tackled by a room full of sugar-high six-year-olds?" Bill caught the napkin and smoothed it out like it was a sacred scroll. "First of all, we’re not *infiltrating*. We’re *blending*. Second, have you ever seen a kid under ten who isn’t distracted by the promise of free cake? We’ll be ghosts." Molly raised an eyebrow. "Ghosts who look like they just escaped from a community theater production of *Ocean’s Eleven*." Bill gasped, clutching his chest. "Excuse you, I’ll have you know this is a *disguise*." He gestured to his outfit: a neon green polo shirt two sizes too small, khaki shorts that rode up his ankles, and a name tag that read *"CHAD (PARTY ENTHUSIAST)"* in Comic Sans. "I am the picture of wholesome, non-threatening fun. You, on the other hand—" Molly looked down at her all-black ensemble—turtleneck, leggings, fingerless gloves—and sighed. "I look like a ninja who got lost on the way to a yoga retreat." "You look like you’re about to rob a bank," Bill corrected. "Which, by the way, is *exactly* what we’re *not* doing. We’re here for the *presents*, Molly. The *loot* of childhood dreams. The—" "The *toys* that some poor kid is gonna cry over when Santa doesn’t bring them next year?" Molly interrupted. "Yeah, I’m real broken up about it." Bill waved a hand. "Details. The point is, we waltz in, charm the parents, let the kids think we’re the *cool* adults who don’t make them eat vegetables, and then—*bam*—we’re out the door with a shopping cart full of LEGO sets and My Little Ponies." Molly leaned forward. "And how, pray tell, are we getting *out* without a horde of tiny humans screaming ‘THIEF!’ at the top of their lungs?" Bill grinned and pulled a small, suspiciously glittery device from his fanny pack. "Distraction protocol. Step one: I ‘accidentally’ knock over the piñata. While the kids are scrambling for candy, you slip into the present table area. Step two: I ‘find’ a ‘lost’ puppy outside and start a whole *thing* about returning it to its ‘owner.’ While the parents are oohing and aahing, you load up the getaway stroller." Molly blinked. "We have a *getaway stroller*?" Bill nodded solemnly. "It’s pink. With rainbows." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "We’re stealing from children in a *pink rainbow stroller*." "Symbolism, Molly. We’re not monsters." She groaned. "Fine. But if I get tackled by a four-year-old wielding a plastic lightsaber, I’m taking you down with me." Bill clapped his hands. "That’s the spirit! Now, let’s go over the exit strategy. Once we’re clear of the party, we meet at the—" The door to the backroom burst open, and a harried-looking woman in a *Sugarplum’s* apron stumbled in, clutching a tray of cupcakes. "Oh! I didn’t know anyone was back here! You two aren’t, like, *homeless*, are you?" Bill straightened up, flashing his most disarming smile. "Homeless? No, no, we’re just… *planning*." The woman squinted. "Planning what?" Molly grabbed a cupcake off the tray and took a bite. "A *surprise*." The woman didn’t look convinced, but she also didn’t look like she had the energy to argue. She set the tray down and backed out slowly. "Well. Have fun with your… *planning*." As soon as the door clicked shut, Bill turned to Molly, his eyes wide. "That was *too* close." Molly licked frosting off her fingers. "Relax. She thinks we’re weirdos, not criminals." Bill adjusted his name tag. "We *are* weirdos." Molly grinned. "Exactly. Now let’s go steal some toys before I change my mind."