[Molly and Bill are sitting in a dimly lit corner booth in a dingy diner, hunched over to hide their faces from prying eyes. Molly, a slender woman in her late 20s, has a folder full of documents in front of her. Bill, a burly man with a bushy mustache, taps a pencil nervously on the table.] Molly: "Look, Bill, it's right here in black and--Jiminy Christmas!" [She pauses mid-sentence as the waitress walks by and refills their coffee mugs.] "As I was saying, it's all here in the dossier. Mrs. Higginsworth's annual 'It's Raining Candy Canes' Christmas party." Bill: [Raising his eyebrows] "You're kidding me, right? We're gonna boost presents from a buncha ankle-biters?" Molly: [Rolling her eyes] "Relax, Scrooge. These are designer gifts we're talking about. 'Fer-shoozy' ones, as the kids say. Plus, the old battle-ax has an ongoing feud with her one-percent sister. This is our chance to settle a score and have a very plunderdrous holiday." Bill: [Chuckles] "You and your puns. Alright, Mistress Grinch, I'm in. But how do we get past the reindeer games and elf-napping security?" Molly: [Smirking] "Leave that to me. I've got an inside man on the Naughty List. We're gonna go in Santa--I mean,