Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK9KDJXJKQAVANDCSSNYF61

Molly spread the map across the sticky diner table. Crayon arrows looped between doodled balloons, cake, and gift mountain. Bill, still wearing his burglar mask like a beanie, squinted. "So, entry point: we crash the party disguised as magicians." Outside, rain slapped the window, drumming a dramatic, unnecessary soundtrack. "Magicians steal attention, not property; I prefer invisible cupcake inspectors." "Cupcake inspectors wear hairnets, Bill; do I look responsible today?" The target was not a bank vault or museum tonight. "Fine, we’re balloon artists, specializing in complex emotionally unstable giraffes." It was a suburban birthday extravaganza for eight hyperactive second-graders. "While children argue over giraffes, you liberate the presents, gracefully." Glitter cannons, a rented pony, and an ominous professional clown. "Define liberate; time it meant running, screaming, covered in glitter." "Glitter is tactical; parents track sparkling footprints, not missing parcels." Also, according to Molly’s notes, an unreasonable number of presents. "What about the clown, Molly; he smells fear and debt." Bill traced a path through scribbled sprinkles with a fork. "I juggle his shoes; distracted, barefoot, he’s emotionally disarmed, obviously." The waitress walked past, glanced, and decided not to ask. "If musical chairs starts, we bail, presents first, dignity later." Planning.