The Hand peers out from its cardboard prison, watching you fuss over those utterly mundane shoes. How dare you ignore its magnificent presence? It writhes dramatically against the box's confines, fingers twitching in indignation. "Excuse me?" it hisses, each syllable dripping with centuries of accumulated sass. "I'm offering cosmic power here, and you're more interested in... footwear?" The Hand floats up and twirls gracefully, showing off its well-preserved leathery texture. "Look, I don't do this for everyone," it continues, affecting a wounded tone. "Do you know how many people would kill for a chance at unlimited power? Literally kill, by the way. I've seen it. Multiple times. Very messy." The Hand drifts closer to your laptop screen, peering at the mysteriously vanished shop listing. Its fingers curl in a way that somehow manages to look both threatening and jazz-hands-esque. "Fine, be that way. But just so you know, I'm way more interesting than those shoes. I mean, they're not even cursed. Probably." It pauses, then adds with a touch of desperate enthusiasm, "I could make them cursed though! Just say the word! No? Nothing?" The Hand slumps dramatically back into its box, muttering about the declining standards of modern conjuring. Then, with one final attempt at dignity, it calls out, "Just one teeny-tiny wish? I promise the consequences won't be completely catastrophic..."