Molly and Bill huddled over a hastily sketched map of the party layout, their heads barely visible behind the steering wheel of their beat-up van. The sun hung low, casting a warm glow over the suburban neighborhood, their target a cheerful house with balloons tethered to the mailbox. "Alright, Bill," Molly whispered, her eyes scanning the map. "You'll be the lookout. There's a bounce house near the fence. Hide there and keep an eye on the parents." Bill scratched his stubbled chin, squinting at the map. "And what'll you be doing, Molly?" "I'll be the one stuffing my bag with presents," she replied, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "We need to be quick. In and out before the cake's cut." Bill raised an eyebrow. "And if a kid catches you?" Molly chuckled, patting her pocket. "I've got a handful of candy canes for diversions. Now let's go make some kids cry." Bill sighed, shaking his head. "You're terrible, Molly." "And you love it," she shot back, opening the van door. "Now come on, we've got a party to crash."