Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY97FH6TF3BRFPTVDVFMJKG

The rain hammered against the corrugated iron roof of the abandoned warehouse, a relentless, rhythmic drumming that did little to soothe Molly’s frayed nerves. Across the table, Bill meticulously sharpened a ridiculously ornate letter opener. It looked less like a tool and more like a tiny, silver dagger. "Are you *seriously* using that?" Molly asked, gesturing with a dismissive wave of her hand. Bill didn’t look up. “Precision, Molly. We need precision. A child's lock is surprisingly delicate. Besides," he added, finally meeting her gaze, a glint in his eye, “it’s rather fabulous.” She shuddered. "Fabulous doesn’t get us past thirty screaming toddlers and a bouncy castle. We’re after the presents, Bill, not an accessory." He examined the letter opener again, testing its point with a fingertip. "Sentimentality is a thief’s weakness. Think of the joy, Molly! We're redistributing wealth, frankly. Imagine the surprise on the parents’ faces when they discover the missing teddy bears.” Molly sighed, picking at a loose thread on her jacket. "Just...try not to stab anyone."