"Alright, Bill, let's go over the plan one last time," Molly said, tapping her pen against the blueprints sprawled out on the table. "Right, we're hitting the Johnson's kid's birthday bash. Place will be crawling with sugar-high brats and distracted parents," Bill said, his voice gruff as he leaned over the plans. "Exactly. Best time to get in undetected." Molly grinned. "Where's our point of entry?" "Back door in the kitchen. It's unguarded." "Bingo," Molly said, "I've got lock-picks for the pantry if anyone follows. Now, what's our haul?" "All non-edible or falling-apart-in-three-months gifts. Nothing electronic though. Kids break 'em, parents just toss 'em." "Ate too many Energon cubes as a kid, huh?" Bill glared. "Those things were cancer and lead finely chopped and molded together." "Alright," Molly said, "you take the garage and the big presents. I'll purge the gift table and coat rack." "Alright," Bill agreed. "And just to reinforce," Molly added, **Same rules, reconfirmed?"** "Uncle's cheap, so gold and cash only. Suggestions are off-limits. Presents are unboxed. No vegetables. Charity donations untouched." "I know, I know," Bill retorted, "Those toys and clothes make me cringe." "That why we get paid." Bill groaned.