Molly slipped her hands into the darkened cuffs of her oversized gloves as Bill adjusted his quirky bowler hat, flicking a crumb off its brim. The brightly lit children's party was an ocean of merriment below them, an ill-timed siren call they sought to silence with mirth and plunder. "Think it'll be easy?” Molly's eyes, reflecting the gaudiness of the holiday decor, scanned the family's animated front yard. "Nothing worth having comes easy," Bill chuckled. A dog barked nearby. "Kinda primed us for this, with all the presents." "Let's stick to the plan," said Molly, "Sneak in, find the presents, and make a swift exit before the parents notice—" "Escapades like these? You scream necessity," Bill interrupted, his hand gesturing towards a small dog trapped beneath a chair. A commotion ensured—their break-in plan momentarily forgotten. As parents scrambled, Molly placed a gentle hand on the dog, who whimpered softly. "Guess this changed our plans." Bill watched, with a glimmer of conscience. Molly thought about it, glanced at the presents displayed around the festive room, then at the three cheeks she was about to cleanse—curiously peeking at a porcelain dragon wandering among colorful wrapping. "An alternate mission—become heroes." Despite the night's odd twist of fate, humor still tinged the air. Bill grinned, his bowler momentarily forgotten. "Investing in true happiness—a rare find." They left without so much as a grasp, carrying away the memory of a stolen cheer. In their wake, laughter echoed, a silent testament to unexpected camaraderie.