Bill and Molly crouched in silence under the fluttering gazebo, keeping a watchful eye on the children's party unfolding behind the house. "I don't get it," Bill muttered. "Why the hell are we breaking into a party of little brats?" Molly adjusted her Bluetooth earpiece. "That's exactly why, my dear devil," she replied. "Who would be stupid enough to suspect the old lady with glitter on her face and laughs too loud at cheesy jokes?" "That's what I'm afraid of," Bill said, gazing at Molly coldly. "We're gonna end up stealing presents that stink like baby powder and silly string." "You make it sound like a hardship," Molly snorted. "It's just for a few nights. We'll raise a breeze and avoid the incessant questions about friction with the West, once the credits are cashed in. Plus, all yeah! Kick ass baby! yuk yuk!) Getting it out of our system is what you do," Bill broke in after a couple of moments. "Everyone who's anyone goes to the party once in a while, right?" "Right," said Molly, exhaling. "Because it's safe. No thieves are going to steal from a party full of kids." Just as soon as Molly had finished the sentence, a white and green car pulled into the driveway. The children cheered and ran towards the front door. "Here goes nothing," Molly said and rushed out of the gazebo. "Happy hunting, Cupid!" Bill, watching Molly approach the house, took out his phone and sent an SMS. "Good luck, Molly. I don't think I can handle it," he texted back, then lit himself a cigarette and leaned back against the gazebo, giving the children a high five as they passed.