Molly adjusted her disguise in the rearview mirror, smoothing out her bright pink wig and oversized novelty sunglasses. Bill let out a snicker from the driver's side, shaking his head at the absurdity of the getup. Across the street, a banner reading "Happy 8th Birthday, Timmy!" flapped in the wind, beckoning them toward the target: a kids' party overflowing with unattended gifts. The duo had spent weeks casing the neighborhood, timing the events down to the minute. "Alright, what's the plan?" Bill asked, eyes fixed on the cluster of excited children and frazzled parents. "Standard smash-and-grab," Molly replied, flipping through the party schedule on her phone. "We sneak in during the pinata massacre, swap the presents with our fake boxes, and make our escape during the chaos." Bill raised an eyebrow. "And what about the cake?" Molly smirked mischievously. "Leave the cake. We don't get paid enough to risk that kind of sugar rush." A stream of sugar-fueled kids poured out of the house, and the sound of "Pin the Tail on the Donkey" drifted through the air. Molly tugged at her wig, and the unlikely duo shared a look - it was almost time to strike.