“What have you got there?” Jasfoup was suspicious of anything Harold hid from him, remembering the time that his employer brought home a vial of holy water ‘for experimental purposes’ and made tea with it.*
“Nothing.” Harold smiled, his hands out of sight.
“You’re lying.” Jasfoup’s eyes narrowed. “Your hands are fiddling with something behind your back. Tell me what it is or I’ll…” He glanced around the room. “Or I’ll break your Harry Potter mug.”
“Very well.” Harold sighed and drew out a large cardboard box. “I got you a birthday present.”
“It’s not my birthday. I don’t even know when I was born. Not the day, anyway.”
“I know,” said Harold. “But it’s my birthday next week. I thought you could share it.”
Note to readers: Not Chronological - Harold's birthday is actually in December of course.