Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TB4HNZV0CPA19S4012BM31

"Remind me," Bill whispered, crouched behind the hedge, "why we're robbing a six-year-old?" "Because Timothy's birthday haul includes a limited-edition Robo-Rex worth four hundred quid," Molly said, adjusting her clown wig. "Stop being sentimental." "I'm not sentimental. I'm concerned about the bouncy castle. That's a lot of witnesses." "They're children, Bill. Their testimony won't hold up in court." "Neither will we if Margaret catches us. She makes eye contact like a hawk." "That's why you're the balloon animal guy. Nobody suspects the balloon animal guy." "I can't make balloon animals." "Then improvise. Hand them a balloon, call it a snake." "That's a scam." "Welcome to our profession. Now, the presents are on the patio table, next to the cake. I grab the gifts, you create a distraction." "What kind of distraction?" "Pop a balloon. Chaos. Screaming. They'll think it's a game." "And the piñata?" "Leave it. We're not animals." Bill sighed. "You know, when I got into heists, I pictured banks. Casinos." "And I pictured a partner who didn't whine. We all make sacrifices. Wig on. Showtime." "Wait—what if Timothy cries?" Molly paused. "Then we leave him one present. The cheap one. Obviously." "Obviously."