Run: 2026-05-01-01KQHQD6TWPXNT0N6FZZ27HK30

Molly slipped into the dimly lit booth at the back of the greasy spoon, eyes darting like a caffeinated squirrel. Bill was already there, nursing a coffee that smelled like it had been brewed in a gym sock. They hunched over a napkin scribbled with crayon diagrams that looked suspiciously like a unicorn. “We hit the party at peak present frenzy,” Molly whispered, tapping the napkin. “Right when they start singing Happy Birthday. Nobody notices two extra adults in clown suits.” Bill snorted. “Clown suits? Last time you wore one you got stuck in the bounce house for forty minutes. I’m thinking janitor uniforms. Blend in, swipe the gifts during the piñata riot.” Molly grinned wickedly. “Fine, but I’m bringing the smoke bombs shaped like party poppers. Chaos is our friend, Bill. Those kids won’t know if they’re getting cake or a light dusting of petty larceny.” He leaned in, voice dropping. “Just don’t get distracted by the goodie bags again. Last job you spent twenty minutes debating bubble wand quality while the mark called the cops.” Molly waved a dismissive hand. “That was amateur hour. This time we’re ghosts. In, out, presents in the van before the candles melt. Trust me, it’s foolproof.” Bill sighed, already regretting everything. “Famous last words.”