Molly adjusted her night vision goggles, smudged with frosting. She squinted through the kitchen window at the bouncy castle trembling beyond. Bill crouched beside her, consulting a crumpled loot bag blueprint. Molly attached a suction cup to the glass door, movements precise despite "Baby Shark" thumping through the walls. She shot Bill a look of professional doubt. He unspooled party streamers like rappelling rope, expression serious behind his rubber clown nose disguise. They synchronized watches. The piñata hung above the cake table like a pendulum. Bill gave the ready signal. Molly gripped her empty sack, her adrenaline suddenly spiking nervously. "You're absolutely sure the target is really the Peppa Pig bounce house tonight, right?" Bill whispered. "Intel confirms the presents are stacked by the cake table," "We go in during musical chairs. The chaos provides perfect cover." "And what about the guards?" "One clown. Drunk on apple juice. But watch for the parents—they're caffeinated and paranoid." "I can't believe we're boosting a PlayStation from a seven-year-old." "It's not theft, it's redistribution. Besides, last week they got a pony. A pony, Molly." "Fine. But if I get glitter in my lockpicks again—" "You'll bill me. I know." "Three, two, one..." "Abort! Retreat! Go!"