The room was a cacophony of noise. Children, hyped on sugar and excitement, bounced off the walls, their shrieks competing with the blaring "Happy Birthday" tune that seemed programmed to loop endlessly. Molly, dressed in a gaudy clown costume, surveyed the scene with a practiced eye. "This place is a goddamn circus," she muttered, adjusting her oversized red nose. Bill, sporting a bright yellow tutu and a perpetually bemused expression, snuck a lollipop from a nearby table. "It’s a sugar rush fueled free-for-all, my dear," he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Perfect for a swift heist." They would focus on the present table, a mountain of colorful boxes stacked precariously. They'd use a distraction, a carefully orchestrated and slightly chaotic "magic show," to lure the children away. With a well-timed smoke bomb and some nimble fingers, the presents would be theirs. "Easy peasy lemon squeezy," Molly snorted, already envisioning their sweet payday.