Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ04B4YGB5NR47GR70CM2HRJ

"Molly, we're wearing elf costumes," Bill whispered. "Costumes are disguises. The invitation said 'Santa's Helpers Welcome.'" "We're forty damn years old, Molly." Bill checked his cuffs. "And the gift table's right by the bouncy castle. In, out, maybe twelve minutes." "What if they recognize us?" "From your parole hearing?" "From being adults at a four-year-old's birthday party." Bill shuddered. "Bill, focus now. The LEGO sets alone are worth eight hundred bucks." "...I see a face painter." "Ignore her completely." "What if she paints my actual face?" "Your mask—" "—is an elf mask. I literally look like an elf wearing an elf. It's deeply suspicious." "Molly, you promised this was low stakes." Bill groaned. "Stealing from children is the definition of low stakes." "Morally, sure. But jungle gym security is surprisingly tight." "There's a clown, Bill. Not an armed guard, just a clown." "He's a lookout?" Bill pouted. "He's entertainment. Stop hyperventilating into your pointy shoes." "They're velvet, Molly." "And they'll carry us straight to that shiny PS5. Now smile. We're jolly." Molly glared. "I'm not feeling jolly." "Pretend hard, or I'll tell the balloon animal guy you're the real Grinch." Molly grinned. "...Fine. But I'm definitely taking the biggest cake." Bill shuffled.