Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0AAFQDN99NNR06NZNTTPDS

The apartment smelled like expired pepperoni and bad decisions. Molly spread out a blueprint of the Winthrop mansion across the kitchen table, her brow furrowed like she was trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded. Bill, on the other hand, balanced a half-eaten slice of pizza on his knee, cheese dangling perilously close to his jeans. "This part here," Molly stabbed the blueprint with a pencil, "is the conservatory. Big windows, lots of presents. Easy in, easy out." Bill squinted, cheese finally surrendering to gravity. "So we're doing it during the party?" "Of course during the party. Kids screaming, adults drinking—nobody notices a thing." She tapped the pencil against the table. "We go in through the side gate, disarm the security system before it even blinks, grab the goods, and vanish before the cake comes out." Bill wiped his fingers on his shirt. "You make it sound like we're the caterers." Molly groaned. "Bill, focus. We can't just waltz in like we own the place." "Why not? I look adorable in a clown suit." Molly's eye twitched. "Clowns get arrested, Bill." "Fine, but that piñata trick was solid last Halloween." "That was one time and the homeowner still has nightmares." She threw her hands up. "This isn't a prank. This is a heist. We need a plan that doesn't involve you dressing like a human birthday cake." Bill grinned, unfazed. "You're no fun." Molly exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. "Okay, new approach. We pose as caterers." "Caterers? We don’t know how to cater." "We’ll fake it. You’re good at faking." Bill preened. "Talented, too." "We’ll wear black and white, carry trays with empty boxes labeled ‘desserts.’ While everyone’s distracted by the magician, we swap boxes with the actual presents." Bill nodded slowly. "So we're stealing the birthday presents by pretending to deliver dessert?" "Exactly. Understand now?" "Yeah. We’re terrible people." Molly smirked. "The best kind." Bill scratched his head. "What if someone notices the boxes are lighter than they should be?" "They won’t. We’ll fill them with… I don’t know, rocks or something." She waved a hand. "Details." Bill paused. "Rocks in cake boxes?" Molly’s smirk faltered. "Shut up." Bill chuckled, then sobered. "What about the kid? Little Timmy or whatever his name is?" Molly’s expression darkened. "Bill." "What? He’ll cry. We’re stealing his birthday." "And he’ll get a hundred other presents next week," Molly snapped. "Life isn’t fair, Bill. Now shut up and help me pack the lockpicks." Bill sighed, tossing the pizza crust onto the plate. "Fine. But if I get blamed for this, I’m telling them you made me do it." Molly grabbed her bag. "You’re the one who thought dressing as a clown was a good idea." Bill opened his mouth, then closed it. "Fair point." The clock ticked past midnight as Molly double-checked her watch. "Party starts at noon tomorrow. We scope it out at nine, blend in by ten." Bill saluted lazily with a spoon. "Yes, ma’am." She pointed at him. "And no last-minute idiotic plans." He mimed zipping his lips, then unzipping them. "What about the cake?" Molly froze. "The cake?" "Yeah. We’re already there. Might as well take it." Her face twisted. "Bill, that’s a step too far." He grinned. "Come on. Think of the look on the kid’s face when he realizes his cake is gone." Molly grabbed her coat. "I hate you." "Love you too, partner." They clinked fists, and Molly muttered, "One step at a time. First the presents. Then we’ll see about dessert."