Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95VCF2Z4SY28C9XFV3S3C8

The air in their cramped workshop hung heavy with the scent of old coffee, machine oil, and Molly’s perpetually forgotten toast. Scattered across the scarred workbench were schematics for bank vaults they’d cracked, blueprints of high-security museums they’d considered, and now, strangely, a crayon-marked floor plan of what appeared to be a suburban house. Bill sat polishing a lockpick, his brow furrowed in concentration, the rhythmic *clink-scrape* the only sound in the room until Molly burst in. She was vibrant and disheveled, clutching a handful of glossy party invitations. Her wild red hair seemed to crackle with an unseen energy as she slapped the invitations down, scattering Bill’s painstakingly organized tools. "I've found our next big score!" Bill slowly raised his gaze, the lockpick glinting dangerously. "Does it involve a bounce house?" Molly swept her arm dramatically, revealing the crayon blueprint. "Better! The Montgomery estate. Barnaby III's sixth birthday. Goldmine! Unprotected! Untapped!" Bill let out a long, suffering sigh, pushing a stray blueprint away. "Molly, professional thieves steal from *adults*. Not Paw Patrol." Molly scoffed, snatching a miniature party hat and cramming it onto her head. She gestured wildly at the map. "Bounty: Consoles, scooters! All gathered in a conservatory next to a petting zoo. An actual petting zoo, I checked!" Bill stared at the peculiar combination, bewildered. "And the plan? Clown and goat?" Molly’s grin widened. Her plan, she explained, involved them crashing the party as hired entertainment. "You'll be 'The Great Balzac,' befuddled magician. I, 'Sparkles,' will be in the conservatory. Quick swap. Sleight of hand." Bill ran a hand over his face. He guessed the swap. "For socks?" "Precisely! Decoy presents. Socks, mostly. Documentaries on paint drying. They'll never know! Genius, Bill! Minimal risk! Maximum reward! Besides, we're teaching them about Delayed Gratification. Or the surprising utility of socks." She gestured grandly to a large duffel bag overflowing with suspiciously brick-shaped packages, underlining her point about the potential loot and their clever deception. Bill groaned, rubbing his temples. He expressed his opinion on the moral low-ground of such an operation, likening the swap of a top-tier drone for a DVD about lichen growth to an elaborate scheme to offload Molly's terrible B-sides from her documentary circuit. The thought of it made his head ache. Molly winked, adjusting her party hat. "A little of both, perhaps. Now, rabbit in a hat... practiced your misdirection?"