"Alright, Bill, you got the grappling hook?" Molly whispered, her eyes darting around the dimly lit alley. Crumpled gift wrap was strewn about. "Yep," Bill grunted, hefting a suspiciously sparkly object. "And I snagged this from a unicorn piñata. Might come in handy." "A piñata hook. Brilliant," Molly sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just focus on the objective. The 'Sparkle Surprise' birthday bash. We're in and out before the fairy floss melts." "Are you sure about this, Mol? It's a lot of tiny, hyper humans." Bill fiddled with the hook. "What if one of them identifies us? They have surprisingly good memories for cake frosting colors." "That's where your distraction comes in," Molly said, a devious grin spreading across her face. "Remember the rubber chicken? You unleash the chaos, I grab the goods." "The rubber chicken," Bill muttered. "This is definitely how careers end." "Nonsense," Molly clapped him on the shoulder. "This is how we retire with a lifetime supply of tiny socks and questionable board games."