As they cased the small suburban house, Molly adjusted the miniature toy cars perched on top of the chimney, giving it a festive touch while they made their entry. Bill adjusted his black-tie attire in the reflection of the window, making sure he looked every part the dignified thief. "You think everyone's still here?" Molly asked, eyeing the house's occupants a block away. "Positive, they're out celebrating my mom's 50th," Bill replied with a smirk. Molly rolled her eyes. "That's even more selfish than my brother's attempt at a decent podcast." The garage door, however, was unlocked, a gift from the overly trusting homeowner. Bill produced the tension wrench from his jacket pocket and began to pick the lock in seconds, a feat he showcased with a flourish. They watched the party through a skylight as they geared up. Molly's eyes shining with mischief, she checked the sacks that would hold the loot. "The presents are probably nested in one big pile somewhere." Bill found the display of impatiently waiting parents through binoculars and chimed in, "Those are the ones going to be crying the loudest when they don't find all their, ah, gifts." "Sometimes I don't know how we put up with each other," Molly mused, a wicked grin spreading across her face. They slipped silently down to street level, expertly taking their mark and their joy, leaving no trail – other than the carefully seeded bags full of tag-bucks-laden springtime tchotchkes.