Molly tapped the blueprint, her finger hovering over a crudely drawn bouncy castle. “The primary obstacle,” she whispered, though the empty warehouse didn’t require it. “Inflatable, yet surprisingly formidable. We’ll need a distraction.” Bill squinted, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I was thinking of a tactical deployment of glitter bombs. Plausible deniability is key. No one suspects the guy covered in sparkles.” He adjusted the lopsided party hat perched on his head, a vital part of his disguise. Molly rolled her eyes. “We’re not starting a rave, Bill. We’re acquiring presents. Focus.” She gestured to a cluster of stick figures labelled ‘Tiny Humans’. “The noise level is projected to be catastrophic. We use it as cover.” She pulled a pair of industrial-strength earplugs from her pocket. “Standard issue. You’ll thank me when a six-year-old shrieks directly into your soul.” Bill pouted. “But the hat has sound-dampening properties. I tested it.” “Put the earplugs in, Bill. And try to look less like you’re about to cry over a balloon animal.” He sighed, defeated. “Fine. But if I don’t get to at least poke the cake, this whole thing is a bust.”