"Molly" Tony, there’s gold in every child's Christmas tree, Bill begins, a clear glint in his eye, not just from the reflection of the bank's window. Bill chuckles, “Just imagine, all those boxes full of toys and secrets we can trade for freedom.” “Be cautious, Bill. A blink, hmm?” Molly, quieter than her usual self, sips her tea, considering each word with a precision more delicate than the stolen goods that lay ahead. Bill grins over, "Then we'll embark on a quest to Robin Hood reimagined. Play the fairy tale, my dear thief.” “Molly, your optimism is a gift—and we're walking toward a wild goose chase.” "Fairy tales always have a way of grounding us, don't they?” Bill’s hands dance in the air, almost as if conducting an invisible orchestra. “Here’s the plan,” Molly’s expression hardens, "We’ll use 'Santa's express’. Junior’s dog will bring 'mail' from the window; then we'll have access.” “Nailed it!” Bill's voice buzzes like a car's engine idle. "Just keep the innocent mistletoe of diplomacy firm in your grasp, and we’ll disappear in a jolly good rum." They flick through blueprints on Molly’s kitchen table, points and nods exchanged faster than a flurry of snow underneath girl's tiny feet. "I’ve double-checked exit routes," Molly states, her eyes never missing a beat. "Strap on your vest, Bill, it’s gonna be a festive ride.” “A festive ride indeed! Can’t wait to hear the jingle of hard-earned dollars rattling in our pockets,” Bill laughs, an echo of Robert De Niro’s character from ‘The Untouchables’. Molly narrows her eyes, “And remember, kid, stealing generosity is theft.” Bill tilts his head, admiration for Molly’s principle winning over his usual rambunctious spirit. "I heard that. It's what makes us the classier sort of criminals.” "Oh, don't put such high expectations on us, dearest mom. Practice makes perfect, you know." "I suppose we owe thanks to the unsuspecting parents, running from ordinary lives." Molly winks, “The greatest joy is not in the stereo of toys, but in the dance of the unexpected.” Bill nods, "Molly, let's not robbers but guardians of serendipity. We'll leave the joy alive in return for the laughter of our freedom.” They rise from the table simultaneously, the kitchen lights flickering on with their departure, like the confused morning sun peeking after a criminal midnight. "Remember, Molly," Bill whispers, a final gift of words as they merge into the night, "Nothing is ever truly gone. It just changes form." Their heist morphs into legend, recorded in tales of generosity and laughter, echoing in the halls of every family that hears the story of the thieves who gave back more.