Molly and Bill, two seasoned thieves, hunkered down in a dimly lit alleyway, devising their latest scheme over sips of smoky whiskey. Two somber men passed by, rapping a rhythmic tattoo along the cool pavement with forceful feet. "Molly, you know what I don't understand about these kids' parties?" Bill slurred. "And what's that, Bill?" Molly asked, a smirk threatening to stretch across her face. "Well, why they always wrap their unopened presents so ornately, every damn one looking like a fistful of sequined dreams." Bill chortled, eyes glinting with mischief. Molly rested her chin on her knuckles, elbows on her knees. "Maybe so no kid can tell if there's candy inside or a boring book." "Hmm, you may be onto something there." Bill's gaze sharpened. He looked at Molly under hanging cobwebs, eyes piecing like a puzzle. "I may have the perfect angle." Molly squeezed his arm comfortingly. "Tell me what's spinning in that thick skull of yours." Bill leaned in close, whispering something into Molly's ear that made her chuckle; it stopped her from considering how tantalizingly close Bill's breath was, like a summer breeze caught in sun-trapped moss. "Let's sink our teeth into that loot. Who's ready for a sugar rush and maybe a surprise downgrade or two?" Molly's grin tilted upwards. "Am I ever ready for breaking into a candy lovers' paradise and causing a chaos that will leave parents salty." Bill raised his glass in jest, eyes twinkling. "Alrighty then, let's get a cap on this antic. With our skills, the party's not going to see the mysterious Santa for a while." Together they formulated a plan, laughter intermixed with whispers, scheming to create memory loops that'd keep the city's little ones up at night with tales of stolen goods and the mischievous spirits they believed to have taken their toys.