Molly flattened the blueprint of the suburban home against the dashboard of their beat-up sedan. Bill’s eyes darted from the drawing to the street, where a bouncy castle was being inflated. “Okay, listen up,” she whispered, tapping a red circle. “The prize room is here. The living room, transformed. The presents are the target. We go in during the magic show. Maximum chaos, minimum attention.” Bill snorted. “We’re going to steal from a five-year-old’s birthday party, Mol. Our career has hit a new low.” “A low with a high ceiling,” she retorted. “Those aren’t just presents, Bill. They’re unopened video game consoles and collectible action figures. We’re talking a small fortune.” “And we’re talking about a security system composed entirely of sticky fingers and sugar-rush-induced screaming.” “Exactly. The noise is our cover. You distract the clown, I’ll grab the loot. We’ll be out before they even cut the cake.” He sighed, looking at the giant, smiling cartoon character on the castle. “Fine. But if I get glitter on my black turtleneck, I’m blaming you.”