Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKB4FH2Q0ASZW1NP9R3XMBY

Molly: Are you sure about this? It's a children's party. Bill: Positive. Presents are glorious and we are professionals. Molly: We promised Grandma we'd stop taking things. Bill: Promises are like balloons; they drift away. Molly: Fine. What's the plan? Bill: I wear the costume and create a diversion. You sneak in, gather the gifts, we leave unnoticed. Molly: Your costume better be convincing. Bill: It's terrifyingly convincing. Banana logic never fails. Molly: If you dance, children will cry. Bill: That's the point. Crying scatters cake. We act like concerned caterers and gather presents for safe keeping. Molly: I'm in. Night shimmered through the window as party songs muffled into the hallway. Molly tightened a suspiciously small bow tie and felt ridiculous and electric. Bill rehearsed a moonwalk that looked more like a confused penguin, grinning as he imagined mountains of ribbon and glitter. Their plan was a whisper, more hope than map; it relied on bad timing, better acting, and enormous audacity. They practiced sympathetic frowns and practiced not crying when confronted by tiny scowls. Somewhere inside the house, a piñata waited like a secret. They were thieves with hearts too soft for guilt but perfectly flexible for mischief.