(Molly's soft, rhythmic voice echoed in the room as she reflected on Bill's absurd plan.) "To think we'd be stealing from a room full of excited children... it's almost unconscionable," she teased. Nothing could be more uncharacteristic. (In a hushed whisper, Bill reached into his jacket pocket, where a crumpled piece of paper was nestled between his wallet and a spatula. It bore hand-drawn illustrations of a youthful party scene.) "I understand your concerns, Molly, but we're not cold-hearted bandits, merely helping people transition into gifted children's lives." Still, she couldn't shake off the butterflies in her stomach; a young child's birthday party. They'd never attempted such a peculiar theater of operations. Molly sighed in retrospect. It used to be easy: private study rooms, mysterious basements, and wealthy collectors. They should've stuck with her previous robberies, no harm done, after all, but now they intruded on such innocence. She craved a normal life, away from the constant fear of police raids. (Bill walking up to a table loaded with contraband loot neatly arranged in the form of its constituent categories.) "We'll be in and out in less than a minute," Bill reassured her in a hushed tone. "In and out like a pair of virtuous ninjas." "No, no one can actually be virtuous and timing is no guarantee. We must be more cautious than that," Molly retorted, ensuring they were more cautious than ever before. (Molly's gaze locked on the largest block of candy in all its iridescent glory, a mother lode of gumdrops and sugary treasures within the layers of beautifully-wrapped hard candy.) "See the silver lining of vulnerability in the poor planning. We're practically invited," she noted, their objective in plain sight. "Certainly, there's much to be grateful for surrounding us - just focus on the task at hand, alright? They'll be fully absorbed in their games. They'll never see us come or go," Bill's voice laced with confidence. He shrugged. "This being the final Newtonian store of enchantments, we're merely liberating knickknacks from a grumpy adult who's too stingy to return them to their rightful owners." "I'm not so sure, dear Bill, these parents have longed to give these gifts to the children. You can't discredit their sacrifices," Molly found a modicum of heart in her work. "Yes, that's true, but in the end, these presents end up in a landfill more often than not," Bill's eyes watched over the sea of gifts as if they could see the future waste. "What better use could they have than an underworld amusement park for young adventurers?" As the moment approached, they took a deep breath and focused, the chorus of "Happy Birthday" growing in the distance. The goal was now clearer: A day when they could pass this heinous act onto the magically inclined hands that needed the gifts the most, leaving the earth's resources untouched. Fingers crossed, they were on a mission for the greater good. They exchanged a nod, their journey had begun.