Molly crouched behind the meticulously trimmed hedge, her eyes scanning the bustling chaos of the children's party. Balloons bobbed in the breeze, and the laughter of kids playing games filled the air. Bill joined her, brushing a stray leaf from his black jacket. "You sure about this, Bill? Seems a bit... petty, don't you think?" Molly's voice was a mix of excitement and doubt. Bill shot her a sly grin, "Petty? My dear Molly, this isn't about the presents. It's about the thrill, the challenge. We're not just thieves; we're artists. And this? This is our canvas." Molly rolled her eyes, "Artists, huh? I prefer my canvases without sugar-rushed ankle biters." Bill chuckled, "Fear not, we'll be in and out before anyone can ask for a bigger slice of cake." Their banter was interrupted by the shrill cry of a child who had just lost a round of musical chairs. Molly's eyes narrowed as she watched the tears and the ensuing consolation from the party host. "Okay, Picasso, how do we do this without ending up on some 'Most Wanted' list between 'missing pet' flyers?" Bill pulled out a small notebook, flipping through pages of detailed plans. "We wait for the piñata. It's the grand finale. While the kids are swinging blindly, we'll slip in, grab the goods, and vanish like a fart in the wind." Molly snickered, "You're quite the poet, Bill. But what about security?" "Ah," Bill said, pointing to a disinterested teenager on his phone, "that's where our young sentinel comes into play. I'll distract him with the age-old tale of 'I lost my dog,' while you swipe the gifts." Molly raised an eyebrow, "And if he doesn't bite?" "Then I'll pull out the big guns—a picture of my adorable, totally-not-made-up puppy. Works every time." Molly shook her head, "You're unbelievable, you know that?" "So I've been told," Bill replied with a wink. They watched as the children, high on sugar and anticipation, gathered around the colorful piñata. The countdown began, and Molly felt her heart race in time with the shouts of the kids. "On your signal, Bill." Bill nodded, "Just remember, we're not stealing presents. We're liberating them from the tyranny of childhood greed." "That's one way to put it," Molly said, her fingers twitching in anticipation. The piñata burst, and the children squealed with delight as candy rained down. Bill stood up, his distraction plan in motion, while Molly moved like a shadow toward the mound of brightly wrapped gifts. She reached the stack and began to gather them in her arms. "I feel like a sugarplum fairy... if the fairy was a klepto," she muttered to herself. Bill's voice came out in a loud, exaggerated whisper, "Keep it down, Molly, or you'll have a horde of candy-crazed minions on your tail." With the presents securely in their grasp, Molly and Bill retreated to their rendezvous point, a nondescript van parked down the street. They loaded the gifts with practiced ease, and Bill started the engine, blending into the afternoon traffic. As they drove away, Molly couldn't help but laugh. "We really are a pair, aren't we, Bill?" Bill flashed her a triumphant smile, "The best pair in the business, Molly. The best pair in the business."