The dimly lit basement reeked of stale coffee and desperation. An old, flickering bulb cast eerie shadows on the cluttered table, covered with blueprints, toy catalogs, and half-eaten donuts. Molly and Bill huddled over the plans, their faces illuminated by the intermittent light. "Okay, so tell me again why we’re doing this," Bill began, a skeptical frown etched across his face. "Because, my dear Bill," Molly replied, her voice dripping with theatrical flair, "those presents are going to waste on those snot-nosed brats. They don’t appreciate the finer things in life, like a limited-edition action figure or a diamond-studded Barbie." Bill raised an eyebrow. "You have got to be kidding me. Diamond-studded Barbie?" "Okay, maybe not diamond-studded, but you get the idea. We’re talking high-quality loot here, Bill. High. Quality." Molly’s eyes gleamed with mischief, and Bill couldn’t help but be swept up in her enthusiasm. "Fine, fine. But how are we going to do this without getting caught? It’s a children’s party, for crying out loud. There will be parents, clowns, maybe even a magician." Molly tapped the blueprint with her finger. "That’s the beauty of it. These people are so distracted by the chaos of a dozen kids hopped up on sugar that they won’t notice two extra party-goers." Bill grimaced. "You really think we can blend in?" Molly smirked. "With our disguises? Absolutely. I’ve got a princess dress that’s to die for, and you—you’ll be the most dashing pirate they’ve ever seen." Bill groaned. "A pirate? Seriously?" "It’s either that or a unicorn, your choice." He sighed. "Pirate it is, then." "Excellent choice. Now, phase one: we’ll mingle with the crowd, scope out the security. There’s bound to be a loot bag station, and that’s our first target." "And if someone recognizes us?" "We’ll just say we’re friends of little Timmy or Susie. Who’s going to argue with a princess and a pirate?" Molly paused, her eyes twinkling. "Phase two: while the kids are distracted by the puppet show, we make our move. We grab as many presents as we can and stash them in the getaway van." Bill wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "And the van? You’re sure it’ll be there?" "Relax, I’ve got it all arranged. With a big, sparkly bow on top. No one will suspect a thing." "Right, because nothing says 'stealth' like a van with a sparkly bow." Molly grinned. "It’s all about the misdirection, Bill. All about the misdirection." Bill shuffled nervously. "I still don’t like it. Breaking into a kid’s party? It feels... off." Molly’s grin widened. "Think of it as redistributing wealth, Bill. We’re modern-day Robin Hoods, but instead of stealing from the rich, we’re... well, we’re still technically stealing from the rich, I guess. But with more cake and balloons." Bill shook his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Only you could make grand larceny sound charming." "It’s a gift," Molly said, winking. "Now, let’s go over the escape plan one more time. The party ends at three, and by three-fifteen, we need to be out of there with our haul." "And if something goes wrong?" Molly shrugged. "Improvise. We’re thieves, Bill, not babysitters. We adapt and overcome." Bill took a deep breath, glancing at the blueprint one last time. "Alright. Let’s do this." Molly clapped him on the back. "That’s the spirit! To the land of cake and presents, my friend. To the land of cake and presents."