Reflections of Mist

Silver box

"A shoe box? You sent me into a Demonic death trap to retrieve a foil wrapped shoe box? Are you kidding me?!" Nick yelled angrily at the kid, brandishing the box at him accusingly.

The kid shrugged, grinning wickedly. "I didn't lie. It is silver in colour, and it does have a pattern of shells on it. Not my fault if you pictured something grander."

Nick growled angrily at the kid, but couldn't fault his logic. Technically, technically, a tin foil wrapped shoe box with seashells super-glued to the lid did qualify  for the description 'a silver box with a shell pattern on top'.

But still...

"That's not the point!"

After his misshapen in the attic, Nick had been so relieved to find a second set of stairs leading to the bottom floor.
More than that, it was a set of stairs that wasn't guarded by a monster, which had had Nick mentally singing hallelujah as he had no desire to go through all that again.
Not for the crappy piece of homemade shit the kid had tricked him into getting.

His mood had been even further dampened when he found the kid leaning on the end of the stairs, waiting expectantly.

"I thought you'd come down this way. That is, if you hadn't been got by something."

That's when Nick had yelled at him.

The kid looked at him cooley, assuming a raised eyebrow facial expression one would expect to see on the parent of a tantrum-throwing child, which if Not j hadn't been so angry he would have found it hilarious being imitated by a four year old.
A very big, very mature four year old, but still a four year old.

Finally, the boy spoke, taking the box.
"The point is, not the box itself, but what's inside, okay? Duh." He rolled his eyes, condescending Nick like he was being so stupid as to think otherwise.