Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ047EC1XYQ55WVJ7PNQWGC5

Molly adjusted her turtleneck and tapped the crayon map on the sticky table. A stain obscured the driveway, but the playroom was marked in purple. "This is the layout. Target moves to backyard at fourteen hundred for cake. That gives us a six minute window for the playroom." Bill squinted at the sketch, pushing his glasses up. He chewed on a stale fry, eyes darting from the paper. "Six minutes? These are six year olds. They move in packs. Did you factor in sugar rush?" Molly snatched the fry and tossed it onto the dirty plate. "I factored it in. We spike the punch. The clown distracts the perimeter." Bill sat up, face draining of color. He pointed a trembling finger at the map. "The clown? You hired him?" She sighed, rubbing her temples as if explaining physics to a toddler. "I didn't hire him. He's on the guest list. I slipped him fifty bucks to make balloon animals for a long time." Bill shook his head, crossing his arms. The booth squeaked. "Clowns are wildcards. What if he makes a sword?" Molly grabbed a crayon and drew a jagged line through the backyard. "Then we improvise! The haul is massive. A Barbie Dreamhouse, two scooters, and that Lego set. We're talking three grand." Bill chewed his thumbnail, staring at the barricade. He looked uncomfortable. "The bouncy castle?" She stared at him in disbelief, her jaw slack. "What about it?" He leaned over the table, lowering his voice to a whisper. "It's a moat of inflatables. We can't walk past. The vibration alerts the lookout." Molly slammed her palm on the table, rattling the sugar dispenser. "There is no lookout! It's a birthday party for a little girl!" Bill jabbed his finger onto the square labeled living room. His forehead glistened. "A little girl with a guest list, Molly! Aunt Carol will be by the gift table. She doesn't blink." Molly smirked, leaning back and crossing her arms. "Aunt Carol is three sheets to the wind on zinfandel by two." He sighed, staring at the map with terror and resignation. "The pinata?" She tapped the tree in the corner of the sketch. "The pinata is a diversion. When they pull the string, we go in the side gate." Bill's eyes narrowed, his fingers drumming on the table. "If the clown makes a sword?" Molly rolled her eyes, slipping the crayon into her pocket. "Disarm him, Bill! It's paper mache!" Bill slumped against the booth, conceding the point, though his expression remained sour. "Fine. But I'm wearing kneepads. Last suburban job, I hit a sprinkler head." She nodded curtly and began folding the map. "Fine. Kneepads. No tactical vests. The neighbors already think we look suspicious." He grabbed his jacket from the seat next to him. "I look suspicious because I am suspicious. We're stealing from a child." Molly tossed a ten dollar bill onto the check and slid out. "We're redistributing wealth. Check your earpiece. We move on my signal."