Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY88ZHZN5SVY2FXZZ6JYGK0

The chipped Formica of the diner booth felt cold under Molly’s elbows. Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the grim determination settling in her gut. Across from her, Bill meticulously disassembled a sugar packet, arranging the tiny granules into a miniature, geometrically precise pyramid. He'd been doing that for five minutes. It was unsettling, even for Bill. “So, let’s go over the logistics one more time,” Molly said, stirring her lukewarm coffee. It tasted vaguely of regret and dish soap. Bill didn't look up. “Logistics are sound. Impenetrable, even. Except for the inherent chaos of a seven-year-old’s birthday party.” “Chaos we’re exploiting, remember? Operation: Present Liberation. It has a ring to it, don't you think?” He finally glanced up, one eyebrow arched so high it threatened to disappear into his hairline. “Liberation? We’re stealing gifts, Molly. Let’s not dress it up. It's acquisition. High-stakes acquisition.” “Potato, potahto. It’s still a mountain of unopened Lego and Barbies. Worth a small fortune, I might add.” Molly leaned forward. “The bouncy castle is our entry point. Distraction. You handle the inflatable while I circumnavigate to the gift table.” “Circumnavigate? Really?” Bill’s pyramid collapsed. He didn’t seem bothered. He just began rebuilding. “Just say ‘walk around’, Molly. You sound like a pirate planning a naval blockade.” “Fine, *walk* around. And you need to remember, the bouncy castle isn't just about distraction. You need to look convincingly… enthusiastic. Like a man who truly appreciates the aerodynamic capabilities of PVC.” Bill snorted. “I can do enthusiastic. I once faked a genuine love of competitive bird watching for three weeks to get close to a millionaire ornithologist.” “Right. Bird watching. Of course.” Molly massaged her temples. “Okay, timing. The magician arrives at 2:30. That’s our window. The parents will all be glued to a man pulling rabbits out of hats, which means minimal gift table surveillance.” “And little Timmy’s mother is notoriously susceptible to sparkly things,” Bill added, finally abandoning the sugar packet reconstruction. “I’ve observed her. A strategically placed glitter bomb could buy us a solid five minutes.” “No glitter bombs, Bill! Absolutely not. Clean up is a nightmare. We’re professionals.” “Professionals who steal birthday presents,” he pointed out dryly. “Details, details. The backpack is crucial. Lightweight, expandable, neutral color. No logos. Think ninja, not tourist.” “I considered a Santa sack,” Bill mused. "Seemed thematically appropriate.” Molly stared at him. “Bill.” “Alright, alright. Ninja backpack it is. But I'm calling dibs on the remote control car. I always wanted one of those.” “After we fence it, maybe,” Molly conceded, a small smile playing on her lips. “Now, remember the escape route? Through the kitchen, out the back door, and into the conveniently placed delivery van?” “It's not ‘conveniently placed’, Molly. I paid the delivery driver fifty bucks to park it there.” “Whatever. Just remember, no one gets hurt. It's just presents. And a little bit of joyous… acquisition.” Bill grinned. “Joyous acquisition. I like that. Operation: Joyous Acquisition it is.”