The kids were distracted by the DJ, their sugared-up bounce houses and birthday cake a colorful blur as Molly and Bill slipped in unnoticed, their eyes adjusting to the dim light. They moved with the caution of a couple on a first date, their fingers intertwined in a silent game of "don't touch" as they scanned the room for the mother lode: the Christmas presents. Molly, a petite woman with a chignon and a dusting of glitter on her cheek, mouthed "the usual" to Bill, her partner in crime, as they made their way through the throng of laughing, sugar-high children. Bill, who looked like he'd just stepped out of a thrift store, nodded innocently behind his thick-framed glasses and made a symbol over his heart with a meaty finger. Their eyes locked onto the rows of neatly wrapped gifts, each one adorned with a child's scrawled name and a picture of a cartoon character. The presents were stacked haphazardly against the walls and under a tattered tablecloth, awaiting their execution. Bill produced a pair of gloves, which he began to awkwardly untie, muttering something about "cold winter hands." Molly watched him with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, her eyes moving over the awkward dance the glove strings made as he tried to free his fingers. "You're doing it all wrong, Bill," she said, with a nudge. Molly produced a handheld fan out of thin air and flipped it open, blowing on her hands to speed up the thawing process. She slid the first gift from the pile, unwrapping the brightly colored paper and examining the doll inside with a critical eye. "Nice hair on the doll, but I think the birthday girl's taste is, uh... questionable." Bill chuckled and took a seat on a nearby couch, using it as a makeshift chair, the cushions molding to his ample physique. "Hey, we don't steal toys, Molly, we steal the magic. We're like cultural vandals." Molly's eyes narrowed. "You're such a poet, Bill." A toddler stumbled into view, his blonde hair matted with grass and his eyes watering from the loud music, as Molly began to unwire a similarly gaudy teddy bear. "Okay, kid, we're like your creepy relatives, someone who arrives only to take the good stuff, before you start crying all over the carpet." Bill chuckled and whispered "You're the best, Molly." A balloon popped, shattering the moment of levity, and Molly shot him a look. "Not helping." She handed him the teddy bear, which he nestled into the crook of his elbow, making a childlike "oooh" sound.