Molly and Bill, both dressed in black, huddled in the shadows, their faces glinting white in the moonlight. They stood before a sprawling, well-lit home, the sound of laughter and music spilling from open windows. "Alright, Bill, you're the brains," Molly whispered, scanning the yard. "What's our ETA?" Bill adjusted his spectacles, "Five minutes tops. They're throwing out the presents like they're playing musical chairs. We just need to grab the good ones before the parents get their hands on 'em." Molly nodded, "And remember, no tears. No touching. Just grab and go." Bill grinned, "You're the one who's been watching 'Home Alone', remember?" Molly rolled her eyes, "Just get the presents, Bill. No need to make a spectacle." Bill chuckled, "Wouldn't dream of it. Now, quick, let's make our move!" Molly and Bill slipped through the shadows, their footsteps light and silent. The laughter and music grew louder as they reached the party. Molly's heart pounded in her chest, anticipation coursing through her veins. They were about to pull off the crime of the century. Or so it seemed.