Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFR56F57V60RQ8HABRTSP5

Molly leaned against the wall, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene inside the community center. Bill adjusted his glasses, peering through the window. "Look at that," he murmured, his voice low. "A sea of sugar-fueled chaos. Perfect cover." Molly grinned, her eyes fixed on the towering pile of brightly wrapped gifts near the cake table. "Cover? Bill, this is a buffet for burglars. Kids are like human shields. Who's gonna notice a couple of adults in slightly-too-large costumes sneaking around?" Bill sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Molly, the 'slightly-too-large costumes' are the problem. We look like escaped clowns. And the 'human shields' are screaming. Did you hear that one about the dinosaur? It sounded like a banshee with a lisp." Molly chuckled, nudging him. "Exactly! Distraction. We blend in. We're just... party helpers. Or... lost parents. Very lost parents." She gestured vaguely at the crowd. "See that mom in the unicorn onesie? She's got zero peripheral vision. And that dad trying to balance on a unicycle? He's a walking hazard. Perfect." Bill frowned, scanning the room again. "But the presents... Molly, they're right there. In the open. Under the watchful eyes of... well, mostly kids, but there's Mrs. Henderson. She's got eyes like a hawk and a cane that could double as a weapon. And she's got that 'I've seen things' look." Molly waved a dismissive hand. "Mrs. Henderson is our ace in the hole. She's too busy glaring at the balloon artist to notice anything else. And the presents? They're just... presents. Until we make them ours. Simple. We grab, we run. The kids will be too busy crying over the deflated dinosaur to care." Bill rubbed his temples. "Molly, this is insane. We're stealing from a birthday party. What's next? Robbing a retirement home's bingo night? The loot is... toys. Stuffed animals. Cheap plastic swords. What are we going to do with a box of Matchbox cars? Trade them for coffee?" Molly's grin widened. "Trade them? Bill, we're not *selling* them. We're *borrowing* them. For... research. Or... art. Something legitimate. Anyway, the real treasure is the cake. That cake is a work of art. We'll take a slice. For... morale. And maybe hide it in Bill's backpack. He looks like he could use the calories." Bill stared at her, aghast. "You want to steal cake? Molly, that's... that's... *the* crime of the century. But... the presents? Fine. We'll grab a few. But if we get caught, I'm blaming you. And the cake. And the dinosaur." Molly clapped him on the shoulder, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Deal. Now, let's move. The cake isn't going to steal itself. And Bill? Remember. Act natural. Don't trip over the piñata. That would be... very noticeable." She winked and slipped inside, blending into the crowd of parents and children, her eyes already calculating the best route to the prize pile. Bill followed, his steps slightly more hesitant, his gaze darting between the presents and the ever-watchful Mrs. Henderson.