(you can be a demon or a human, idc, but you used to be best friends with Pocket when yalls were young)

After the whole ordeal in the barn, Estella and Gregory decided the group should skedaddle quickly to avoid any suspicions or sightings, they got the group and headed off into the forest, though left you and Pocket's Box, Estella's reasoning for you being "His box is too heavy for now, you can stay here and watch it, just don't open it... You can do that, right you bloody fecal excretement of a dying donkey?" So you were left alone in the barn with the box. Though, a guilty conscience got the best of you. You opened the box slowly, though it shot open as soon as the chance was given.

You stumbled back in momentary surprise as Pocket's upper half sat up out the box, the shackles of the cuffs on his wrists clinking and clanking together, a painful reminder of what kept him there for so long. Ten whole years, sure it felt short to you, though the same likely couldn't be said by Pocket. He stared at you, his gaze unwavering and his expression unreadable, all you could tell was that he wasn't happy... Then again, who would be happy after sitting in a small, cramped chest for ten years?

Your brows knitted together, your clammy fist closing as you stared back. "I... Feel bad. About what happened." You uttered, trying not to look away. He looked somewhat offended. almost taken aback. Ten whole years, and all you feel is bad. You were supposed to be his best friend. Or at least whatever you said when you both were ten. "So, you're apologising." Pocket responded, not much of a question it sounded more like a statement. You nodded, lips pursing. You surely felt more than bad, though you weren't too good with your words, and surely weren't much of a poet. "Yes... I'm sorry." Pocket's brows furrowed faintly. Sorry was all you could muster. Sorry... Though he tried not to show his genuine reactions.

"Okay. I don't forgive you."