The dimly lit basement smelled of old pizza and mildew. Molly, perched on a wobbly stool, tossed a rubber ball against the wall, catching it with a flourish each time. Across from her, Bill was hunched over a makeshift table littered with blueprints and crumpled notes, a pair of oversized glasses sliding down his nose. "Alright, Bill, spill the beans. What's the plan for this shindig?" Molly asked, her voice tinged with playful skepticism. Bill adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. "So, the party's at the Wilson residence. Nice place, gated community, the whole shebang. Starts at noon, so we've got a good window before the cake's cut." Molly arched an eyebrow. "And you think we can just waltz in, grab all the presents, and waltz out? What are we, party crashers or ninjas?" "Funny, Molly. Very funny. Here's the deal: the gifts are piled up in the living room, right next to the patio doors. We slip in, bag 'em up, and slip out before anyone notices." "And the kids? They're just gonna sit there and watch us rob them blind?" Bill shook his head. "That's where the distraction comes in. You remember Sticky Nicky, right? He owes me a favor. He'll set up a magic show out back, keep the little rascals busy while we do our thing." Molly tossed the ball again, mulling it over. "Nicky's a klutz. What if he messes up?" "He won't. Besides, we've got a backup plan. If things go south, we've got an hour tops before the heat shows up, thanks to the quiet neighborhood. We'll be in and out in twenty." Molly stood and paced, tossing the ball from hand to hand. "Alright, let's say we get in. How do we get out without being seen? Those gated places have nosy neighbors." "There's a service entrance for caterers at the side. I scoped it out last week. Security's light, and they won't be expecting anyone on a Sunday." Molly stopped pacing, a grin spreading across her face. "Okay, I'm in. But I'm driving. Last time you drove, we ended up in a ditch." "Fair enough. You can drive," Bill conceded, returning the smile. "So, we're agreed. Tomorrow, noon sharp, we hit the Wilson party and make off with the loot. Anything else we need to consider?" "Just one thing," Bill said, pulling out a small device from his pocket. "This is a signal jammer. Kids these days can't go five minutes without their phones. We jam the signal, no one calls for help. Plus, it'll mess with any pesky alarms." Molly nodded approvingly. "Nice touch. That should keep things quiet." Bill's expression turned serious. "Molly, this has to be clean. Last thing we need is a bunch of panicked kids and angry parents." "Don't worry, I've got a soft spot for kids. Won't lay a finger on them. Presents, on the other hand..." Molly winked. Bill laughed. "That's the spirit. Meet here at eleven. We'll go over the final details." Molly grabbed her jacket and headed for the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. "Just one more thing. What are we gonna do with all those presents?" "Oh, I've got a guy. Calls himself 'The Toymaster.' He’ll take the whole lot, no questions asked. Pays well too." Molly nodded and stepped out into the evening, the first twinges of excitement for their next heist already bubbling up. As she disappeared into the night, Bill looked down at the blueprints and whispered to himself, "Here's to another successful heist."