Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKAGPV0Q63KJMVH4Y5KJ84F

Molly: Quiet now, Bill, the party starts at six. Bill: We'll enter through the cake door, as planned. Molly: Don't forget glitter for distraction, maybe tonight. Bill: Glitter bombs? Fun, but risky, huh. Molly: Precision, Bill, we need silent entry and quick exits. Bill: Cameras are fools' friends; ignore them once we smile. Molly: Presents are piled high like marshmallows, irresistible tonight. Bill: We grab the top layer and sprint toward the exit. Molly: The kitchen door is a breadcrumb path to safety. Bill: Don’t trip, and whoever greets us, compliment them. Molly: On three, we glide; one, two, three. From the window, the town square glowed with lamplight for a children's party. Molly wore a smile like a secret, while Bill checked a cracked map and a dented flashlight. They practiced the chorus of soft steps, the way their shoes whispered on carpet, the pause before the inevitable giggles of little partygoers. The plan sparkled with childish chaos: a cake door, glitter armies, and a parade of misdirection. The house across the street hummed with quiet, music. Inside, their hearts hammered in time with distant trumpets, but their faces stayed calm, professional, and perfectly ridiculous, as a thief insists.