“That’s a pretty imaginative curse.” Will crooks an eyebrow as he pulls the lapels of his jacket in, staring up at the big ‘CLOSED FOR BUSINESS’ sign that decorated the door of the ice cream parlour they had walked three blocks in the cold to get to. “I was worried this would happen.” He pouts as he looks through the store window, trying to catch an employee in the midst of packing up, wanting an explanation as to why the place, one of his favourites, had reached the end of it’s lifespan. “There never was that many customers whenever I dropped by.” He pouts.