"This sounds messed up, Bill." Molly pondered, glancing at the picture-book party, cluttered with playful characters and sparkling decorations. "I know it's a means to an end," he insisted. "But can't we do it with less moral ambiguity?" They won't be hurt, he explained, merely the event's tissue plaster or a lost toy. His reasoning weighed down her heart, but she nodded in agreement. Under cover of night, they infiltrated the party under false pretenses. They acted as parents, bringing their kid and posing as the most earnest, overconfident partygoers they could muster. The two fretted about their story and timing as they watched tired kids, puking balloons, and tiptoeing in their oversized shoes. Finally, the moment to act was afoot. Molly played a clumsy-mom, dropped her toddler, revealing an ankle bracelet that hid a wire. "I'll tell you what, Bill," she whispered, grinning. "Steal Presents, they said. Save Parties, we'll do." Molly tightened her smile, every parent now moved their eyes to her sham performance. But they found nothing unusual. With Molly and Bill at it, almost before the magician could unveil his most talked-about set of rabbits, all the presents started rendering unto the bag they'd brought for the task - perfect, the job's swiftness arose doubts in the thieves' efficiency. But their conscience only weighed them down. They'd done their good. "Let's get out of here," Bill whispered to her. "We have a rescue on the schedule." Thus, they accomplished their heist with hope of future redemption.