The dimly lit storage room was a far cry from the lavish mansions and high-stakes casinos Molly and Bill usually broke into. But, for the right price and the promise of endless cake, they were willing to rough it for this job. Molly adjusted the fedora on her head, smoothing out the rumpled brim. "Alright, Bill, let's go over the plan one more time. We sneak in, snag as many presents as possible, and get out before the kids notice we're there." Bill, nursing a lukewarm energy drink, scratched his cheek with a meaty hand. "You got the timing down, right? Party's got to be at the most crappiest hour of the day or else we're screwing this up." Molly nodded, tapping her temple. "I've calculated the sugar highs, the nap schedule, and the likelihood of parental units taking outside calls. We're golden. The birthday boy's at table three, his mom's distracted by the latest soap opera episode on her phone, and the hired DJs are so far out of it, we could probably rig a pipe organ to blare 'Who Let the Dogs Out' without someone noticing." "Just don't get us on camera," Bill drawled, rolling up the sleeve on his checkered shirt, revealing a worn "I'm with Stupid" t-shirt. "I heard these parties have all sorts of high-tech snooping equipment nowadays. We need to keep a low profile, except for when we need to bust out the good stuff." Molly clucked her tongue and snatched the energy drink from Bill's grasp. "This is going to run us dry faster than a school of teenagers with an iPhone open on Pinterest. I brought some espresso shots instead – they're like liquid motivation with a hint of crippling caffeine addiction." Bill held out his hand, eyes widening like a child on Christmas morning. "Ooh, you got the good stuff?" Molly unscrewed the top, releasing a hissing sigh of relief. "I even splurged on sugar water flavorings. Original chocolate, vanilla, and lemon. You get to pick." Bill's eyes rolled back in his head. "Lemon, man. Always the adventurous one." Molly chuckled and handed him the bottle with a twist of lemon-flavored shot. Bill downed it in one swift motion, wincing at the acidity that hit his system. Molly rubbed the back of his neck, pushing his untamed locks out of his eyes. "Stick with the plot, Bill – we're thieves, not special forces commandos. Get in, grab the loot, and get out." Bill coughed, starting to reanimate from the caffeine kick. "Shut up, Molly, you're no fun. This is a job like any other – just with better snacks." Molly shook her head, setting aside the cup with leftover espresso shots. "Low key's the plan, remember? Keep this one classy, for the presents, at least." As they made their move, furtive glances exchanged between the two thieves hinted at a certain shared excitement, a wicked edge to their usual brand of chaos.