In the heart of suburbia, under the cloak of twilight, a quaint house buzzed with children's laughter. Molly, a petite woman with fiery hair, scrutinized the scene from a distance. Beside her, Bill, a lanky man with an unkempt beard, fidgeted nervously. Molly's eyes sparkled, reflecting the multi-colored lights adorning the house. "Bill," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant chorus of children singing 'Happy Birthday'. "It's showtime." Bill gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing like a cork in a stormy sea. "Molly," he squeaked, sounding more like a scared child than a seasoned thief. "Are we really doing this?" Molly shot him a stern look, her eyes narrowing. "We need the loot, Bill. And those kids have too many presents anyway." Bill sighed, resigning to their audacious plan. "Alright, Molly. Let's make it quick." With a nod, Molly led the way, her small frame disappearing into the shadows. Bill followed, his heart pounding louder than the beat of the party music. The duo slipped into the backyard, their eyes set on the mountain of presents, waiting to be swiped.