Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the sticky diner table, her eyes gleaming with the intensity of someone planning a diamond heist rather than what this actually was. Bill slurped his milkshake and studied the crude rendering of a backyard, complete with a bouncy castle marked with aggressive red circles. The target was simple enough. Timmy Henderson's eighth birthday party promised a mountain of gifts from wealthy suburban parents who overcompensated for their absence with expensive electronics and gift cards. The security consisted of one exhausted mother, a hired princess entertainer, and approximately fifteen sugar-fueled children. Bill tapped the drawing of what appeared to be either a dog or a very lumpy table. "What's this?" "Goldendoodle. Friendly but stupid." They had exactly forty-seven minutes between cake consumption and the opening of presents, when adult supervision would be at its lowest and the children would be experiencing their collective sugar crash. Molly had timed similar parties before, developing what she privately called her Birthday Extraction Protocol. Bill scratched his chin, already growing the fake beard he insisted made him look like a legitimate party clown. "We need balloon animals." "Obviously. I've been practicing poodles for three weeks."