Molly squinted at the spread before them, the vast table groaning under the weight of brightly wrapped presents. A children's birthday party was the least likely place to find a high-value haul, but Bill had guaranteed it'd be the perfect opportunity for a laugh and a small fortune. "What's the plan?" Bill asked, holding up a box of novelty glasses with broken straps. Molly inspected her nails. "The theory goes, rich parents can't resist showing off. Their kids may be getting pots and pans, but dear old mom and dad are showering them with iPads, Xboxes, and the latest tattoos. All we need to do is mingle, eavesdrop, and collect any telephone numbers, IDs or wallets left lying around. No alarms, no guards – just a couple of amateur thieves taking advantage of a weekend full of blissful neglect." Bill scratched his half-shaved head. "Sounds a tad too amateur." Molly produced a gleaming pick, waving it in front of him. "Entrance through the kitchen window. Slip in, slip out." His eyes widened. "You're insane." "And you volunteered," she retorted, grinning. Bill sighed, following Molly's gaze to the bounty before them. The colored streamers and balloons seemed to mock their budding thievery. "Who's going to miss a few toys?" "Who knows what jewels are hidden beneath the wrapping paper?" she quipped. "I present to you – 'Present-gate'." Bill's chuckle morphed into a cough. The pixelated TV in the corner let out a cacophony of cartoon noises. Children's laughter echoed through the walls as they played outside. "As I was saying," Molly began, "we need to prioritize: electronics, cash, and anything that might mean something in a pawn shop. We'll have our hands full." Bill nodded, eyeing his partner's resourceful expression. "Right, we blend, mingle, and steal." "Better than 'wrong address' and the slammer," Molly said, tossing him two party hats. "Catch up, Bill. We've got a party to crash." Steeling themselves, they slipped through the back door, disappearing into a whirlwind of confetti and noise as the party unfolded around them. Molly and Bill navigated upturned faces, clowns, and games, expertly tucking presents into their jackets as Bill made small talk. A balloon-bedecked mother offered them a tray of cupcakes. "Would you like one, dear?" Bill's eyes lit up. "Thank you, ma'am!" Molly warned him off, but he'd already bitten into a cloud of colorful frosting before mid-sentence. The woman patted his shoulder, oblivious to the charges about to be levied against his person. "Our diaper-clad accomplice is being remarkably helpful," Molly muttered, pocketing a smartphone from a half-opened gift left under a table. Bill swallowed, custard-wielding. "Thanks to your diabolical indoctrination technique." A child handed Molly a crayon drawing of a unicorn, complete with a glittery mane. "For you, lady!" "Oh, thank you so much!" Molly cooed, accepting the gift and slipping it into her purse. The trusted figures of authority – the bouncy castle attendant and the face painter – avoided their glances. As long as the presents kept flowing out of the room, why would they suspect two smiling guests? Little did the partygoers know, they were stuck with two con artists, siphoning off the spoils before the day was out. As the sun fizzled behind the window curtains, Molly and Bill began to make their exit. "Time to vanish," Molly whispered, peeking through the doorway. Bill handed over the last of the contrasting treasures. A cell phone caller ID revealed a familiar number. Bill frowned. "Can't have Steve calling my cell right now." The mysterious caller's reliable vendor instincts ringing off the hook could ruin their fun – and profits. He dialed Steve, leaving a cryptic message for his associate to call back in an hour. Outside, unseen beneath a shared blanket, they regrouped, bags bulging with loot: a Game Boy, a gold watch, even a laptop. From the group shot of happy children, a meant-for-the-garbage Hermes scarf protruded. They exchanged triumphant glances, already thinking about where their newfound treasures would best end up. As Molly pulled on her gloves, Bill handed her a wrapped present. "Merry Christmas, Molly." She looked up doubtfully. "Two days early...?" Bill grinned, manipulating the tension between them. "Consider it a bonus." With that, they vanished into the sunset, armored in their ill-gotten gains, their laughter a cruel counterpoint to the birthday song still echoing inside. The children had been right; it had been a magical day for all concerned parties. Just not in the way they'd expected.