Molly crouched behind the overstuffed couch, eyeing the brightly wrapped gifts stacked like a fortress under the gleaming Christmas tree. Bill peered around the corner, nervously adjusting his black beanie. "Okay, so remind me again why we're hitting a kids' party?" Bill whispered, eyes darting to the sugar-fueled chaos. "Because kids have the best loot," Molly snapped, her voice low but fierce. "Toys, gadgets, gift cards hidden in stockings. Plus, nobody expects burglars wearing elf hats." Bill glanced down at his ill-fitting green elf hat, sporting a crooked bell. "I feel ridiculous. And sticky. Did you see the frosting on my sleeve?" "Focus!" Molly hissed. "We get in, snag the presents, and get out before they notice the absence of their sugar rush." Bill laughed quietly. "What if the birthday boy catches us? Last thing I want is a three-year-old calling me a bad guy." "Then you make your best 'Santa lost his way' face," Molly said with a smirk. "Here’s the plan: I distract the parents by 'accidentally' knocking over the punch bowl. You sneak to the tree, grab everything, and we rendezvous by the clown." Bill sighed. "Got it. Distract with disaster, loot the loot, meet the clown. Why do I feel like this is one of your worst ideas?" "Because it’s brilliant," Molly grinned, already slipping on a sparkly mask. "Now move it, elf."