Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7Z00ZJRKKX06G3FCYV1FJ

The neon glow of the party lights seeped through the blinds like a drunk neon saint, casting jagged shadows across the living room floor where Molly adjusted the tension on her lockpick set with the precision of a surgeon threading a needle. Bill leaned against the wall, twirling a candy cane between his fingers like a conductor’s baton, his breath fogging the air in slow, dramatic arcs. “You’re sure this isn’t just a *really* elaborate prank?” Bill asked, his voice a low murmur that might’ve been mistaken for a purring cat if anyone had been listening. Molly shot him a look that could’ve curdled milk. “No, genius. It’s a *very* well-guarded treasure trove of toys, and I *hate* toys. Especially the ones that sing.” Bill sighed, plucking a gumdrop from his pocket and popping it into his mouth. “Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming the piñata. That thing’s got *eyes*.” Molly smirked, already sliding a slim pick into the keyhole with the grace of a dancer. “Oh, it’s *watching* us. And it’s *laughing*.” The lock clicked open with a sound like a sigh of relief from a very relieved lock. Bill grinned. “Well, partner, looks like we’re about to make Santa’s naughty list *very* personal.”