Molly leaned against the wall, eyeing the balloons through the window. "You sure this is a good idea, Bill? Seems a bit..." "Crummy? Despicable? Heartless?" Bill interjected, fiddling with his lock picks. Molly rolled her eyes. "I was going to say 'obvious,' but sure, let's go with 'heartless.'" Bill smirked. "Relax, Molly. It's a victimless crime. The kids are too hopped up on sugar to care, and the parents are too busy Instagramming every second." "But the birthday kid?" Molly pressed. "Will be set for life with a therapy fund after this," Bill chuckled. "Besides, we're not stealing memories, just gifts. And let's be real, half of those are socks from Aunt Edna." Molly sighed. "Fine, but we're not keeping anything for ourselves. It's all going to the orphanage." "Scout's honor," Bill saluted, grinning. "Now, the plan's simple. I'll pick the lock on the back door. You cause a distraction." "What kind of distraction?" Molly asked. "You're the master of disguise," Bill winked. "Dress up like a clown and start juggling. Parents love that stuff." Molly scoffed. "A clown? I was thinking more along the lines of a magician. You know, abracadabra, and poof, the presents disappear." "Works for me," Bill said, cracking the door open. "Just make sure you don't actually make the kids vanish. We're not monsters." "No promises," Molly muttered, pulling out a top hat and cape. "But if I get a card trick to go south, you're the one explaining to the children why magic hates them." Bill laughed, disappearing into the house. "Deal. Now, let's go make some magic of our own."