"Evan, you better have a damn good explanation for this," he said before reluctantly backing away to allow his boss access to the control panel.
Evan's fingers scrutinised the wood as they had done before. "Really," he said, "I thought I could use my money however I liked." His hands had found the control panel, and Christian saw him punch in a code that he'd obviously memorised. The front of the crate clicked, and Christian stared as Evan pulled it wide open. "I suppose I can send it back if it doesn't meet with your approval," his boss said in a put-upon tone.
Christian couldn't see into the crate, but he could see Carla. Her hands had once again shot up to cover her mouth, and she was staring, wide-eyed and speechless at whoever was inside. Christian didn't know what to do, say or even feel. He had no idea what Evan would want him to do with whoever was in the crate, and he was doing his best to avoid thinking about some of the more extreme possibilities. He watched Carla turn to stare at him and knew he was screwed. The shock on her face confirmed his worst fears.
Resigning himself to his fate, he took a deep breath and turned to face his replacement. He'd planned on giving Evan another lecture about 'buying people', but when the same deep brown eyes he'd lost himself in at the park, stared back at him from the inside of the box, the words died before they'd even left his lips.
There were so many things Christian wanted to say; so many questions and accusations he wanted to fling at Evan, but all that came out was a broken, "How?" It was all he could manage. Her brown eyes were beginning to blink back tears, and there was a lump forming in his throat in response.
"Do you want the technical or the metaphorical answer?" Evan said smugly.
Christian screwed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw tight. This wasn't about him, it wasn't even about Evan, this was about her.
"Evan," Carla said quietly. "Evan, she's crying. We need to get her out of there."
"Oh," he said, and despite the sharp tone to his voice Christian felt the sudden concern run through him. "Well, I suppose the gloating can wait."
Christian watched as Evan reached onto the table top and felt for a blank looking booklet that lay next to a pile of Carla's discarded magazines. He quickly realised, as Evan flipped through the pages and read the Braille indentations printed on them, that this was another instruction leaflet.
"Carla," Evan said in a far softer tone than before. "I'm going to need your assistance if you don't mind."