Molly and Bill huddled in the shadow of a tree, the moon casting a silver glow over the sprawling manicured lawn of the wealthy Mr. Thompson's estate. The chatter of young voices and laughter from inside the grand house filled the night air. Molly's eyes narrowed as she scanned the property, her fingers tightening around the lock-picking tool in her pocket. Bill chuckled softly, "You know, Molly, this ain't our usual gig. Usually, we're stealing from banks or high-security vaults. Presents, huh? Kids' presents? It's practically a pity job." Molly scoffed, adjusting her low-cut black dress to conceal her leg holster. "It's not profitable, no. But it's fun, isn't it? And it's the perfect distraction. Everyone's inside, expecting a merry time. We just slip in, grab the loot, and slip out." Bill grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "And we'll be the best gift givers in town." Molly smirked, her gaze drifting back toward the house. "Let's do this. But remember, Bill, no touching the decorations. We just want the presents." Bill saluted, his voice a soft whisper. "Yes, ma'am. Just the presents." The pair crept towards the house, their shadows dancing on the walls as they moved silently, each step a dance of stealth and daring. The night was theirs, and the presents would soon be theirs as well.