The conference room was dimly lit, the only sound the soft hum of a air vent and the rustle of papers on the table. Molly, a petite woman with a mop of curly brown hair, leaned back in her chair, eyes fixed on Bill, a lanky man with a scruffy beard. He sat across from her, arms crossed over his chest. "Alright, so we've got the invite list, the party schedule, and the layout of the venue," Bill said, waving a hand over the pile of papers. "What's the plan, genius?" Molly's eyes sparkled. "We hit the party at 2 PM, when all the parents are distracted by pizza and bad karaoke. We slip in through the bathroom window, grab the presents, and out the same way." "Sounds too easy," Bill said, raising an eyebrow. Molly shrugged. "Hey, I did my research. This kids' party business is a well-oiled machine. They're too busy making balloon animals and refilling the punch bowl to notice us." Bill snorted. "You think the birthday boy's mom isn't going to investigate a broken window?" Molly grinned. "That's the beauty of it – we'll leave a decoy. A fake mustache, a fedora...we'll make the whole thing look like a kidnapping gone wrong. By the time anyone realizes the presents are missing, we'll be long gone with the loot." Bill chuckled, a low rumble. "You're a Regular Peter Pan, aren't you, Molly?" Molly's expression turned serious. "Listen, Bill, this is a big score. We're looking at tens of thousands of dollars' worth of toys and gadgets." Bill's grin faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I just want to make sure we don't end up on the wrong side of a SWAT team." Molly rolled her eyes. "Oh, you're such a party pooper. Fine. We add some extra contingency planning to the meeting notes. But, honestly, how many SWAT teams can there be that are experts in kids' party crashing?" Bill shook his head, laughing. "You're something else, Molly." As they continued to discuss the details, their conversation became a verbal dance, with Molly spinning phrases and Bill expertly juggling objections. They argued in circles, but their banter was laced with a deep affection and trust that only came from years of working together. Finally, as they pored over the last of the papers, Molly leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Alright, one last prep. Who's going to get the best costume?" Bill's face lit up. "I'm getting dressed up as the Easter Bunny. With a tutu." Molly groaned, laughing. "You're such a poseur, Bill."