Molly crouched behind the Christmas tree, her breath fogging up the cold air. "Alright, Bill, remember this is what we're aiming for." Bill adjusted his gloves, glancing around furtively. "The presents. Tons of 'Santa's Got Talent' toys. We're talking millions, Molly." Molly nodded, her pinkie raised. "But there’s a catch. There's a vintage first edition of 'Tinker Bell Tales' on display. Hard to miss. Maybe we need to diversify our loot." Bill scratched his head. "Tinker Bell? We can’t cart that around. No way it’s worth the second-hand book store price of a Chipmunk drum set." "Hey, if we're doing this, why not go all in?" Molly’s eyes twinkled in the glinting lights. "Imagine telling your sister, 'Hey, I got her the one rare edition she’ll never, ever read.'" Bill laughed, his thoughts racing. "Fine, you've got a deal. But we’ll split this into phases. First, sweep the whole room, ensuring no one spots something odd." Molly twirled around, a silent smile on her lips. "Next, we snag the dolls and remote-controlled cars. Easy come, easy go." "Not so fast," Bill chided. "Curses! I almost forgot—the Cassidy incident. He knows we rigged that leak. No peep-toys, otherwise." "Chill, Duke. Our techy heist will finally give us that ticker-tape parade. The subtlety of a shadow so fine, it could curl over a peacock's tail." They both burst into laughter, the seamless blend of excitement and panic in their chuckles. "Last but not least," Molly whispered, "the Tinker Bell. Let’s make like a teardrop and follow its path. We’ll feast on the silence like pilgrims in a temple." Bill followed her finger’s imagined trail. "Infiltrate, frolic around the book stand, outwit and outplay the guardians of innocence, and claim literary treasure.” Molly gave an affirming nod as they raised their tools—a tiny sample of chunky Neue Welle pint glasses for good measure. The heist unfolded like a ballet they'd choreographed. “Got it, Molly,” came a faint voice, almost lost outdoors. They split, Bill diving behind a toy shelf while Molly worked carefully on the rare tome. “Stealth isn't just a word, it's a way of life," she muttered under her breath. Their hearts beat in synchrony, and as they finished, wrapped in shadows veils, they shared a triumphant smirk—heart rates climbing side by side with the escalation of laughter, as they planned their daring escape, readying themselves to be the fabled thieves of not just merriment, but also of marvel. Back in the calm, Molly eyed the contented parents but captured glimpses would do. "One for the kids," she proclaimed. "They'll have Santa's biggest stocking—a bag of popcorn instead of toys. No explanations; they keep believing in the magic." Bill nodded, a smirk playing on his lips. "And of course, Molly, Tinker Bell’s tale sitting pretty in our little 'treasure trove'." And with that, they vanished into the night, leaving a trail of joy behind, alive and well, just as they had intended. Their heist perfected, their spirits untouched, proud pioneers in a world of childish wonder.