Molly scrunched her nose as she peered into the telescope, pressed against the living room window of the posh suburban house across the street. The family inside bustled about, preparing for something. She lowered the telescope and turned to her partner Bill, who lounged on the couch. "Looks like we got ourselves a little shindig goin on," she said, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "Ain't no party unless someone's gettin a present," Bill replied, his eyes still on the cricket match he was secretly watching. "Saved the best for last," Molly said, placing the telescope down on the coffee table. "I'm thinkin it's a kid's do." She pulled out her logbook from her coat pocket, flipping through the pages until she found the layout of that particular house. "Both bedrooms are tucked in the back with the master overlooking the backyard. Dining room, living room, and foyer at the front." Bill closed his newspaper, though not before he circled some numbers on the corner of the page, and gave his full attention to Molly. "Family room in the basement?" "Yep. Direct access to the sliding backdoor and patio. I'm guessin the party's gonna be held out there," she said, fidgeting with her hair. She hummed, tracing the layout with her finger. "We do this right, come in through the front window, work our way to the foyer and grab the presents by the door." A frown creased his brow. "Risk of bein seen. Everyone's gonna be traipsin in and out." "Then what's your idea, genius?" Molly challenged, crossing her arms over her chest. "The hall closet." Closing his eyes, Bill snatched a moment of quiet to picture it. "Near the family room but the furthest from the party, hopefully keep us out of sight. We could move the presents there, huddle down, and wait 'til quiet descends." "Oh, I like it," Molly whistled. "No use gettin fancy. Just in and out." "In in like a lamb, lambs away like a lepidemic whale," Bill corrected, smirking. She shot him a side-eye. "Whatevs, rhymin genious," she replied, referring to this as his only talent. "What kinda presents we lookin at?" Another flip of the notebook and Molly had found a list she jotted down yesterday. "Several boxes marked 'toy' so there's your guitars, and a whole lot of under combined clothing and accesories, so that's your raccoons and hoodies." Her eyes followed down a line before she read the last part aloud, "My Fuckin how'd I miss that revamp, Sony PlayStation 5. Talk about timing." Bill's eyes gleamed rimmed with gold. "Man, this Jonathan would have raged at this haul." "And it's all mine!" Molly crossed her hands worship like. "I need it for all the mean online games I suck at." "Hmm, hasn't stopped you yet," Bill boredly closed his eyes and drifted off on how much it'll make him. Molly aside him to continue on the layout, but stopped reading up from a comment Bill just said. "Ooh you so burn me!" "Rather rude that," his voice slithered. "Weren't mean, you actually suck." "You mean, as in genuinly terrible," she countered, goose on. "Terrible like an inept needle trying to sew a collar shut. Just as describit you gammin ain somethin you can do," Bill founged with a bit of spice. "I can brin this by seven hundred..." Molly retorted, segway lost from 'constantly doin good' to 'Actualy dreadful playin' and was now preventing every serious leap fore-ward from them. She had neither begun her meetings or even stock started workimg. ) Bill ignored her to gaze out the window. "An hour climinging," he breathed somberly, the gravity of the situation hitting him. "Yeah, things gettin real in there?" "The clock is tiking. Whoes turn is it?" Molly asked with a bite.