Molly's eyes gleamed like polished onyx as she slid onto the couch beside Bill, her eyes locked on the package on the table between them. The festive wrapping paper was a mess, with scribbled scribbles and colorful patterns that seemed to shift and writhe in the dim light. Bill's fingers drummed a lazy rhythm on the armchair as he watched Molly's hands, his own fingers hovering over the paper. The sound was almost musical. "So we're going to get ourselves some presents without anyone noticing," Bill drawled, his cheeks flushing a healthy shade of red. Molly snorted, a mocking smile twisting her lips. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who has a 10-year-old hostage." Bill's eyes snapped back to her, sparkling with amusement. "Hey, Babydoll, where's the laughter in that? It's just a kid with a mullet." Molly's smile firmed, and she began to unwrap the paper, her fingers dancing across the flimsy fabric like a tiny bandit. As the wrapping came crashing down, she looked up, a giggle bubbling up from her chest. "It's a miracle! Who else is going to be able to wrestle in those tights?" Bill chuckled, shedding his own tie as he slipped out of his jacket, ruffling his messy hair. Together, they melted into matching smiles as they crumpled the paper into a neat triangle and smoothed out a crumpled hand-clip, grinning at each other like a pair of mischief-making troublemakers.