Molly perused the map, her fingers tracing the path to the gala. "We'll need to slip in without drawing attention at the party entrance," she whispered. "Easy," Bill replied, grinning. "I'll dance like nobody's watching. Got rhythm like a cat with nine lives." "Speaking of nine lives, we've got to ensure each present is tagged for maximum swipes. I'll mark them with glitter." "Be careful, the glitter could lead 'bounty hunters' astray," Bill joked, eyes sparkling. Molly chuckled. "Then let's grab markers from the supply closet—they'll think we're preparing party favors." "Capisce!" Bill bellowed as he bolted out the door. Molly rolled her eyes, laughter tumbling from her. "You're more show-off than thief." "That's the plan, babe. When the time comes, we'll be ghost-like, as wisp of smoke." "But not before a grand exit—we don't want cops gathering crumbs, do we?" Bill glanced at her, his grin unyielding. "Cops, dogs, historians—they'll all be lamenting the loss of innocence, not our faces." As the party buzzed, they mingled, exchanging cryptic whispers. "First, target the yachts," Molly directed, eyeing the shiny decoys. Bill's nod was sly, "Yacht's the spot. Mother Goose won't hold much 'gold' this year." They fumbled with a present, giggling as it narrowly clipped the cardboard on the disco ball. Laughs echoed under the euphoria of their grand scheme. "Notice how pink it is?" Bill teased, gesturing. "Is that some kind of code?" Molly asked, brow furrowed. Bill slapped his knee. "Tag is set! Let's not wipe those big eyes for now." Their duo dance continued, through the labyrinth of joy and sugar, plotting their stunt. "For once," Molly mused, "let's just claim a party, not some fortune." "Perchance," Bill agreed, as they vanished through the doorway, their laughter a parting gift on the night of mischief. (Word Count: 200)