Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK95SHHNC8CTVJ152DFQS89

The children's party was a carnival of candy scent and rainbow balloons, a tiny fortress where trust funded chaos and noise. Molly: "Quiet, Bill, no glitter." Bill: "Right, slip past unnoticed." Molly: "Grab the presents, tiptoe out." Bill: "Duck through the bakery crowd." Bill: "Speed matters." Molly watched from behind a velvet drape, feeling the room tilt with giggles and the squeal of cotton candy. Bill checked their cover story against the glow of birthday candles, muttering that it would be enough to buy them time. They imagined cameras as polite mistresses, blinking in the wrong direction, giving moments to slip through crowd. The presents loomed like trophies, wrapped in red ribbons, mocking their little misadventures and promising temporary celebrity among the cake. Molly checked the plan again, not with lockpicks but with a notebook doodle of balloons and a compass made of licorice. Bill tapped a spoon, rehearsing their silly soundtrack, timing like a joke rather than risk. The door sighed as the hall lights flickered, and they pretended not to notice the etiquette of adults in charge. But a whistle of a party game cut through nerves, and they steadied themselves like performers hiding a prop in sight.