John winced at the pats to his bruise face. "I hate you," he sniveled.
Scarlet smirked, but a lot of the fun had drained out of him, and he just looked dark now. He found a box in John's pantry and he emptied the oatmeal out of it onto the floor and brought it back to tuck the egg inside. For a thing worth millions of dollars, stuffing it in a grocery box seemed oddly appropriate. And judging by the agonised look on John's face, he disagreed.
If there was one thing John very much enjoyed, it was owning rich, valuable things, and that egg was one of his most prized possessions. Taking it away was like taking one of his children (probably. He'd had quite a few and didn't remember all their names.)
"Look after her," he whined. "Don't put me in that hole. I'm not suited for that kind of life!"