Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

impressed.”
“Frankly, I don’t give two shits what you—”
“Ah,” the boy said. “No need for that. I am your boss, after all. I’d hate to
think you’d need a mark on your permanent record.” He sniffed. “Nelson.
Still here, I see. How … expected.”
“Damn right I am,” Nelson growled. He pointed his cane at the Manager.
“And don’t think you’re going to be making anyone do anything they don’t
want to do. I won’t have it.”
The boy stared at him for a long moment. “Interesting. I actually believed
that threat, as inconsequential as it was. Please remember there is little you
could do to me that would stop what must happen. I am the universe. You’re a
speck of dust. I like you, Nelson. Please don’t make me regret that.”
Nelson eyed him warily, but didn’t reply.
The Manager approached the table. Wallace sat stock-still as Hugo closed
the door. The lock clicked.
The boy stopped at the table across from Wallace, inspecting the teapot
and cups. He traced a finger along the spout of the pot. He caught a drop of
liquid from the tip before pressing it against his tongue. “Peppermint,” he
said, sounding amused. “Candy canes. Isn’t that right, Wallace? Your mother
made them in the kitchen in winter. How strange it is that a memory so
comforting comes from someone you grew to despise.”
“I don’t despise her,” Wallace said stiffly.
The boy arched an eyebrow. “Is that so? Why not? She was, at best,
distant. Both of your parents were. Tell me, Wallace, what will you do when
you see them again? What will you say?”
He hadn’t thought about it. He didn’t know what that made him.
The boy nodded. “I see. Well, I suppose that’s better left to you than me.
Have a seat, Hugo, so that we may begin.”
Hugo walked back to the table, pulling the chair out before sitting back
down, expression blank and cold. Wallace hated to see it on him.
The boy clapped his hands. “That’s better. Hold on just a second.” He
went to the table near them, pulling the chair out and dragging it along the
floor back to their table. He pushed it between Mei and Nelson before he
climbed onto it, sitting on his knees. He rested his elbows on the table, his
chin in his hands. “There. Now we’re all the same. I’d like a cup of tea. I
always did like your tea, Hugo. Would you pour it for me?”