Molly, sprawled on the worn-out couch, looked up from her map of the party layout. "Alright, Bill, we've got a two-hour window before the little rugrats start arriving. We'll need to be in and out like a couple of stealthy elves." Bill, munching on a cold pizza slice, nodded. "Elves with a getaway van. I still can't believe we're hitting a kids' party. It's like stealing candy from babies." "Technically, we're stealing presents from spoiled brats," Molly corrected, rolling her eyes. "And it's not like they won't have more stuff than they know what to do with by next Christmas." Bill chuckled, "True. So, what's the plan? Distract the clown, avoid the magician, and hope the face painter doesn't ask us to sit for a butterfly?" Molly grinned, "Something like that. Just remember, Bill, no getting sidetracked by the piñata. We're there for the presents, not the sugar rush." "Scout's honor," Bill saluted, crossing his fingers behind his back. "Let's make this the sweetest heist ever."