Molly adjusted her glasses, peering at the blueprints spread across the table. "Bill, if we're gonna nail this heist, timing's key. The party's on Saturday night. I've mapped the house. Get in, grab the presents, and get out like ninjas." Bill smirked, tossing his wristband. "Ninjas aren't on my resume, Molly. But I caught your drift. I'll carry the turf tape. We won't trip over the surprise parades this time." "Listen to me," Molly whispered, "Remember the cookie jar. Safety is our priority, but not if it means crumbs on our tails." "Sounds like a plan, Captain Crumbs. We'll be more slick than a spoon in a cookie jar." Bill pretended to roll his eyes, grinning. Molly shook her head, laughing. "Always the comedian. Just make sure the backup plan is chocolate-free. I've read those parents' evacuation routes." Their eyes met, a silent acknowledgment of the absurdity of their scheme, yet the mad folly of their partnership. Both knew the risk—the thrill, the laughter, and the chocolate-fest that could land them in more trouble than they'd ever baked. "Thieves only eat dark chocolate, right Molly?" Bill teased, his joke falling flat in the gravity of their combined fate. "Hardly a joke. But just for peace of mind," Molly shot back, her expression darker than the truffle center of a dark chocolate. They committed to each other's company, a thief-thing duo bound by mischief and the irony of their bond—two misfits plotting to swipe gifts destined for the innocent hands of children. (Word count: 198)