Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYB574YXC33JH3A3PT6EPJR

The neon glow of the party’s disco ball pulsed like a dying star, casting jagged shadows across the walls of the abandoned warehouse. Molly adjusted her gloves—too tight, too loud—and Bill groaned, rolling his eyes. “You’re gonna trip over your own feet if you keep that *dramatic* sighing,” Bill muttered, already peeling off his jacket. “We’re not here to watch a soap opera.” Molly shot him a look. “I’m not *dramatic*, I’m *prepared*.” She pulled a tiny lockpick from her sleeve and tested it against the door’s rusted hinge. “Besides, what if the presents are *magical*? We need to be ready for *everything*.” Bill groaned again, this time louder. “You’re impossible.” “And you’re *boring*,” Molly shot back. “Fine, let’s do this. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you for not listening to the plan.” The door creaked open with a groan, revealing a hallway lined with flickering fluorescent lights. Bill stepped forward, his flashlight cutting through the gloom. “Okay, so we’re in. Now, what’s the *real* plan?” Molly’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t have a plan. We just *know* we’re gonna get away with it.” Bill rolled his eyes. “You’re *insane*.” “And you’re *terrible* at this,” she countered, already scanning the room. “Look—there’s a supply closet. Perfect. We’ll hide the presents there.” Bill groaned. “You’re *terrible* at this.” Molly ignored him, already sprinting toward the closet. “Fine, fine! But if we’re caught, I’m *not* the one apologizing!” Bill caught up, shoving her aside. “You’re *terrible* at this.” The door to the supply closet creaked open, revealing a mountain of boxes—some labeled *TOY*, others just *BOX*. Bill grabbed a stack and started pilfering. “Okay, so we’re *not* stealing *everything*,” he said, tossing a toy truck into his bag. “Just the *good* ones.” Molly snatched a doll from his hand. “That’s *not* good. That’s *cute*.” Bill groaned. “You’re *terrible* at this.” Molly sighed, already pulling out a pair of scissors. “Fine. We’ll just *cut* the presents.” Bill stared at her. “You’re *terrible* at this.” The warehouse fell silent except for the distant hum of the party’s music, now just a faint echo. Molly smirked. “We’re gonna be *legendary*.” Bill groaned. “You’re *terrible* at this.”