In the shadows of the suburban street, Molly and Bill huddled, their breaths visible in the chilly night air. The house before them was a beacon of chaos, children's laughter spilling out like an overflowing piñata. Molly, a petite woman with a penchant for vintage dresses and lock-picking, adjusted her cat-ear headband. Bill, tall and lanky, fidgeted with his bowtie, a nervous tic he'd developed since their last close call. "Ready, Bill?" Molly asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Bill swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing like a cork in a stormy sea. "As ready as I'll ever be, Moll." Molly grinned, her eyes reflecting the twinkling fairy lights strung up around the house. "That's the spirit. Let's make this our sweetest heist yet." With a deep breath, they stepped out of the shadows, their forms merging with the revelry. Molly's hand found the doorknob, her fingers dancing over the lock. A soft click echoed, and they were in, swallowed by the sea of sugar-high children and unsuspecting parents.