"Remember, low profile," Molly whispered, adjusting her earpiece. "I’m low profile," Bill grunted, shifting the binoculars. "I can’t see the loot. I just see a bouncy castle. Is the loot inside the castle?" "The loot is *under* the castle, you amateur. The presents are piled by the punch bowl. We wait for the piñata." "The piñata? That’s a chaos event. Blindfolded children swinging bats? That’s a hazard zone, Molly." "That’s our cover. When the paper mache donkey ruptures, we move. Grab the red bags, avoid the sugar-hyped six-year-olds." "What if they swarm? Have you ever seen a disappointed toddler? They have no regard for the Geneva Convention." "Stop being a baby. We go in, we grab the Nintendo, we get out before the magician saws someone in half." "I don't like this. The perimeter is guarded by a golden retriever." "The dog is a civilian. Toss him a hot dog." "What if the clown identifies us?" "If a clown spots us, we abort. Nobody does time because of Bozo." "Fine. On my signal. Did you bring the loot bags?" "They're gift bags, Bill. We’re not animals. We’re sensitive thieves." "Right. Sensitive. Let’s rob some children."