Inside a dimly lit room piled high with expensive toys and wrapped gifts, Molly and Bill peered over a detailed map. "Dim the lights," Bill said, squinting at the childlike scene on paper. Molly countered, flipping open her watch, "Give us an hour—the presents will be gone." "Patience pays dividends,” Bill mused, admiring a high chair's lock mechanism. “You're quiet as a mouse, but I've got the charm of a peacock," Molly winked, skillfully weaving her statement into their ruse. Ensuring their plan was flawless, Bill went over the schedule, "Ten, we enter. Complete the fiddling with the security system, twelve, grabs the presents, and—" "Eight-fifty into the takeaway," Molly interrupted, pretending to inspect a toy hot wheel. "Disposal right after. Thoughts, Bill?" "Present packing sounds great. Real classy," he smirked back. They snickered together, imagining their treasure trove of plush dragons and bouncing balls. "Ready when you are," Molly whispered, a twinkle in her eye. Bill extended a hand, mirroring the gesture. "Thirty minutes to a life-changing rush." With that, they slipped out, leaving behind a room full of birthday dreams.