Molly paced back and forth in the cramped, dingy motel room, her bright pink hair a stark contrast to the drab surroundings. Bill, lounging on the bed, watched her with a mixture of amusement and concern. "Okay, Molls, slow down," Bill said, holding up a hand. "We need to go over the plan one more time." Molly stopped pacing and turned to face him, a exasperated look on her face. "We've gone over it a million times, Bill. We sneak in, swap out the fake presents with the real ones, and get out before anyone notices." Bill nodded. "Right, but what about the kid's Bouncy Castle? We can't just cut through the wall behind it without getting caught." Molly rolled her eyes. "That's why we have the inflatable hacksaw, genius. We blow it up, saw through the wall, and then – voilà! – we're in the gift room." Bill raised an eyebrow. "And what about the piñata guards? We don't want to get pummeled by a hail of candy-coated projectiles." Molly snorted. "Please, they're not even getting paid for this gig. We get the presents and get out – no one's going to risk getting fired over a bunch of gifts." Bill shook his head, a grin spreading across his face. "You know, sometimes I worry about your moral compass." Molly's grin matched his. "Hey, I'm not the one who's been stealing my grandma's cookies since I was five." Bill chuckled. "Hey, those wereincrements of treating research, okay?" Molly huffed, flopping down onto the bed beside Bill. "So, what do you say we get our party started? Literally." Bill stood up, brushing off his pants. "Time to put on our fancy disguises and blend in with the birthday crowd. Or, at the very least, not get recognized by the party patrols." As they wriggled into their ridiculous getups – Molly in a fuchsia wig and oversized sunglasses, Bill in a furry unicorn onesie – they both couldn't help but burst out laughing. Molly held her stomach, tears streaming down her face. "We're the worst thieves ever." Bill smirked, one eye scrunched shut. "Hey, we're not getting caught. We're masterminds." The door beneath their feet resounded with an ominous thud. Molly and Bill froze, their grins dying instantly as a shouting match erupted from the room next door. "Children's birthday party central, downstairs in five minutes! Who wants to wear the hamster onesie?!" As their hotel room number flickered on the itinerary printout tacked to the bulletin board outside, Bill met Molly's gaze with an unspoken signal. "Two minutes, fifteen seconds, and... we're on our way to really-sticky parties-onlyabout five!"