Molly adjusted the grappling hook in her gloved hands while studying the blueprints spread across their rickety table. The target: a suburban backyard birthday party for seven-year-old Emma Thompson. Bill paced the length of their cramped apartment, his clown costume already half-zipped. "Too risky," he muttered, sweat beading on his forehead. "Parents everywhere." Molly rolled her eyes, tapping the diagram of the bounce house. "We go in during the magic show. Distraction's built in." Bill fidgeted with his oversized bowtie. "And the presents?" "Under the cake table. Obvious hiding spot for amateurs." She checked her watch: 3:47 PM. The party started at four. "Remember the signal?" Bill nodded, pulling a rubber chicken from his pocket. "Got it." Molly sighed, wondering if she should have partnered with someone less theatrical. But Bill's balloon animal skills were unmatched, and his ability to distract children with juggling had proven invaluable on their last three jobs. She folded the blueprints, tucking them into her sparkly backpack. "Let's go steal some Barbels."