Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7KBXD0QGWA29BJXVFRABS

The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Molly’s elbows. Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the tempest brewing inside her. Opposite her, Bill, a man whose dedication to beige was frankly unsettling, meticulously separated the sugar granules in his packet. “Okay, so let’s run it again,” Molly said, stabbing a fork into a congealing pile of hash browns. “Little Timmy’s seventh birthday. ‘Pirate Adventure’ theme. Parents are… let’s call them ‘enthusiastically oblivious’. That’s from surveillance, by the way. Not my judgment. Though, accurate.” Bill finished his sugar segregation and began arranging the tiny white grains into a small pyramid. “Enthusiastically oblivious. Right. Good shorthand. Means they won't notice a slight…shifting of assets.” “Slight? Bill, we’re emptying a room of presents. It’s not a slight shifting. It’s a full-scale present evacuation.” “Semantics, Molly, semantics. Presentation is key. We want to give the impression everything is perfectly normal, just…lighter.” Bill finally looked up, his expression deadpan. “Think airlift, not smash and grab.” “Airlift? You’re suggesting we get a helicopter?” Molly choked on her orange juice. “No! Metaphorical airlift! We glide in, collect the goods, glide out. Clean. Efficient. Like a well-oiled, present-acquiring machine.” Molly rubbed her temples. “Right. The plan. You distract Captain Enthusiasm - that’s the dad, apparently has a full costume - I grab the presents. We’re aiming for maximum present density. Reports indicate a substantial Lego collection, a remote-controlled submarine, a surprisingly expensive drum kit…and a miniature pony.” Bill’s pyramid collapsed. He didn’t seem bothered. "A pony? They’re bringing a *pony* to a house party?" “Apparently. It's a petting zoo situation. Adds a layer of…complication." Molly sighed. "The parents are doing a ‘treasure hunt’ to direct the kids. That’s our window. Peak distraction.” "I’m thinking I'll challenge Captain Enthusiasm to a ‘walk the plank’ contest. Using a pool noodle, naturally. I’ve been practicing my pirate swagger." Bill puffed out his chest and attempted a menacing growl that sounded remarkably like a kitten. Molly stared. "Please, no swaggering. Just keep him occupied. Ask him about peg legs. Talk about buried treasure. Anything but swaggering. And focus on small talk, Bill. Don’t ask him if he’s ever considered a life of piracy." “But it’s relevant!” “No, it’s terrifying. You will freak out a seven-year-old’s father. And a potential witness.” Molly took a deep breath. "I grab the presents, we meet at the designated extraction point – Mrs Higgins’ prize-winning rose bushes – and then rendezvous at the van. Got it?” “Rose bushes? Really? That seems…vulnerable.” “It’s covered by a blind spot in the street camera. Trust me. Just… Bill, no sudden movements. No talking to the pony. And please, for the love of all that is holy, no piracy.”