Run: 2026-03-09-01KKAC9JZJ3WR8TYW4CAYT5EZW

Molly crouched behind the garden shed, studying the inflatable castle as if it were a bank vault with balloons. "Security is laughable," whispered Molly. "One clown, two distracted parents, and a magician whose rabbit is clearly freelancing." Bill adjusted his black turtleneck and stared at the buffet. "Forget the gifts, I'm stealing the sausage rolls." "Focus," Molly hissed. "Presents first, pastry later. We go in as face painters." Bill frowned. "I can't paint faces. Last time I made a child look like Mussolini." "Then do tigers," said Molly. "Every amateur becomes a tiger eventually." A burst of shrieking erupted from the trampoline. Bill flinched. "What if they recognize us?" "From where?" Molly said. "That unfortunate christening job." Bill considered the rainbow-wrapped mountain beside the cake. "Fine. In, grab, out. No improvising." Molly smiled, producing two tiny party hats. "Bill, if a plan involves loot and elastic chin straps, improvising is the whole profession." Near the gate, a pirate-themed piñata swung in the breeze like a taunting safe. "After you," Bill muttered. "Children smell fear." Molly straightened, dabbed blue paint beneath his eyes, and handed him a brush. "Excellent, then you'll pass for a sad raccoon at the county fair tonight."