The blueprints were spread across the hood of their nondescript van, a vehicle that smelled faintly of stale coffee and poor life choices. Bill, a man whose face seemed permanently fixed in a state of mild disappointment, traced a finger along a line representing the garden fence. “Okay, so the primary ingress is here, through the rhododendron bush. It’s prickly, but it provides excellent visual cover from the neighbours.” Molly, who was meticulously polishing a pair of oversized sunglasses, snorted. “Bill, it’s a seven-year-old’s birthday party, not Fort Knox. The security detail is a twelve-year-old named Kevin who gets paid in crisps. Our biggest threat is glitter.” “Glitter is the herpes of the craft world, Molly,” Bill said, shuddering. “It gets everywhere. You can never truly get rid of it. Forensically, it’s a nightmare. One sparkly fingerprint and we’re done for.” “Relax. I’ve got the anti-glitter protocol.” She patted a large, nondescript tote bag. “Lint rollers, sticky tape, and a change of clothes for a quick getaway. We’ll be cleaner than when we arrived. Now, the presents. The intel says they’re in the conservatory. Unsupervised.” Bill nodded, pulling a walkie-talkie from his belt. “Distraction device is prepped and ready. We go in three minutes. Remember the objective: surgical, precise, no collateral damage. We are not animals.” “Speak for yourself,” Molly replied, checking her reflection in the van’s side mirror. “I plan on liberating at least one of those sausage rolls. They looked positively gourmet.” “That’s against the brief!” “The brief didn’t account for the smell of baked goods. It’s a tactical oversight. I’m correcting it.” She slid the sunglasses on, adopting an air of cool nonchalance. “Okay, I’m heading to the observation point. Keep your comms open, Bill. And for heaven’s sake, try to look like you belong. You currently look like you’re here to repossess the bouncy castle.” Bill looked down at his black turtleneck and cargo pants. “It’s a classic infiltration outfit.” “It’s a cry for help. Just… smile. Think of a puppy. Or a large, unsecured pile of wrapping paper.” With a sigh, Bill attempted a smile, which resulted in a grimace that suggested he was suffering from a mild case of indigestion. He watched Molly saunter away towards the park, her tote bag swinging casually at her side. He took a deep breath, checking his watch. Two minutes. Somewhere, a child was about to have their birthday ruined by two adults with a serious moral compass deficiency and a deep-seated aversion to glitter. It was just another Tuesday.