Run: 2026-05-27-01KSMEZ5B00FP0ENXFACGWH0WJ

"Forgive me if this is a temporary setback, Molly," Bill said, adjusting his pants as he sat on the fire escape. "But stealing from toddlers strikes me as an all-time low, even for us." Molly rolled her eyes and continued buffing her lockpicking tools. "Quality is in the eye of the beholder, Bill. And tonight, that beholder happens to be me. Ronald McDonald's birthday bonanza has top-tier unsupervised loot." "Top-tier stolen diapers, you mean," Bill muttered. "Watch it." Molly pointed a lockpick at him. "These parents are doing us a service, leaving luxury items unattended while they're chaperoning face-painting. It's not my fault their security is a room full of two-year-olds." "Look, I get it. The diamond earrings from your last job disappeared, and we're desperate." Bill rubbed his temples. "But Mayor Harwood's charity gala next Tuesday—" "The gala that's crawling with cops?" Molly scoffed. "The party we're rehearsing for has security that can't even hold a juice box without spilling it." "One time," a tiny voice piped up from the apartment below. "One time when I was three I held it good!" Molly and Bill froze. The tiny voice continued, "I spilled it only when Sarah pushed me." "I never!" another child's voice responded. "We're doomed," Bill whispered. "This is it. Arrested before we even begin." "Relax. Kids are like background noise. They notice nothing." Molly stuffed her tools into a pocket and slid open the window. "The perimeter sweep yesterday confirmed it. That party planner has the kids corralled in the main room, presents set up in the study like sitting ducks." "Pure chaos," Bill muttered. "Reminds me of the corporate retreat in Bermuda..." "Focus, Bill! You're on present-wrapping duty. I'll be in the hall tapping the wall every five minutes to give you the all-clear. Once the parents notice, we'll have exactly seven seconds before they realize their gifts have sprouted legs." "Or taken a bus," Bill added. "This is a terrible idea, Molly. A truly, deeply terrible idea." "Shut up and set the distractions." Molly straightened her jacket. "We've been stealing together since that art dealer incident. I trust you to handle a festive toy aquarium and some irrational fear of clowns." "What?" Bill stared at her. "You never mentioned clowns." Molly shrugged. "I improvise. It's what we do, partner. Now stop complaining and pretend you belong at a kid's party." She paused. "Have you ever driven a piñata before?" "Molly, this isn't—" "Just wave it around suspiciously if anyone asks questions!" "I should've taken that job selling vacuum cleaners," Bill muttered, following her through the window. "At least those people had pleasant-looking teeth."