Run: 2026-04-27-01KQ733MFRCHK60XBZPW3BNNDH

Molly adjusted her mask, which was currently stuck to her nose by the humidity of the nursery. "Bill, this isn't going to work," she hissed, though the whisper was lost in the cacophony of screaming toddlers. She grabbed Bill’s collar, dragging him away from the cookie table where a three-year-old named Timmy was eyeing them suspiciously. "We are here for presents, not carbohydrates. Focus." "I'm hungry, Molly," Bill complained, trying to pry a juice box off the high chair. "And why are we breaking into a party? Don't we usually hit banks? Or museums? Places with vaults?" "Because banks have lasers," Molly snapped, pointing a gloved finger at a plastic unicorn rug. "Children's parties have no lasers, just sticky fingers and excessive birthday cake. Now, grab the gift bags labeled 'For Alex.' They contain the cash." Bill squinted at a bag containing a stuffed dinosaur and a pair of mittens. "This is a toy, Molly. The kid just got a toy. I came for money. I have student loans. I need liquidity, not plushies." "You stole the wrong bag," Molly growled, snatching the dinosaur from his hands. "Look, the big box under the tree is the target. It says 'From Grandma.' That means jewelry. That means diamonds. That means freedom." "Grandma buys diamonds?" Bill asked, sounding genuinely hurt by the lack of respect for his tradecraft. "I felt like this was a scam. A cruel, colorful scam." "It is a scam," Molly agreed, kicking a toy truck out of the way. "But it's a scam with better snacks. Now grab the box before Timmy's dad comes back from answering his phone. He's checking his watch. We have thirty seconds." "Thirty seconds to get a box from a toddler?" Bill sighed, adjusting his turtleneck. "I regret joining your crew. I should have stayed with the bank robbers. They have retirement plans." "Shut up and steal the dinosaur," Molly ordered.