The two thieves, Molly and Bill, sat in their cramped, dimly lit hideaway, hunched over a crude blueprint of the target location. The faded diagram depicted a residential house on Sageberry Avenue, with careless doodles indicating the entry points and possible alarms. "This house is perfect," Molly grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she traced the lines of the blueprint with a nicotine-stained finger. "Every year, they throw the most extravagant birthday party for their little Timmy. The kind of party where parents show off their wealth by drowning the place in presents." Bill, a tall, lanky man with a habit of nervously twisting his mustache, nodded along. "But aren't you worried about all these kids around? It's gonna be a zoo." "Kids are noisy and unpredictable. That's why the homeowners feel secure," Molly explained, taking a drag on her cigarette. "They think no thief could pull off a heist during their precious celebration. Less guards, more distractions." Bill furrowed his brow. "And what about Timmy? Hundred or so screaming kids? That's a lot of potential witnesses." "Oh, come on, Bill. We're not going for the kids. We're going for the presents. What do they know?" Molly snorted, her ponytail swaying with the motion. "Besides, they'll all be occupied with their own sugar-fueled chaos. By the time they realize something's up, we'll be long gone." She flicked her cigarette ash into an empty pizza box, the only receptacle available in their cluttered lair. "We get in through the kitchen. The maid always keeps that window open to ventilate the cigarette smoke. Once inside, we find the gift room..." Molly pointed it out on the diagram. "We grab what we can. No more than ten minutes, we're in and out." "Yeah, but what about all those talking sets and toy boxes? They can't all fit in the bag." Bill countered, his mind whirring with logistical concerns. "Well, we get the most valuable stuff. The electronics, jewelry, and cash, if there is any. The rest, we leave. It's all about the benjamins, baby," Molly said, a smile playing on her lips. Just then, a knock at the door interrupted their planning session. They exchanged quick, predatorial glances before Molly said in her best innocent voice, "Who's there?" "Room service!" a tired voice called out. Molly and Bill eye-twitched at each other. They hadn't ordered any food, but given their profession, paranoia was an occupational hazard. Molly pulled out her pistol from beneath the tattered couch cushions while Bill barricaded the door with a heavy metal chair. Bill whispered. "What's the play?" "Wait and see," Molly mouthed back. The knocker continued, "I have a pizza for Molly and Bill?" The woman's eyes widened a bit. She resembled someone they used to work with before she decided to go straight...and she meant very straight, to the DA's office. Oops. Time for a quick exit. Molly waved the gun at the wall. "Meet us at the opposite side. We gotta bolt." They rushed to the opposite wall than the door, climbed the rickety shelf into the vent, and looked at each other with grins. Heists and hu-man sleuths were their life. Who needed a vacation?