In his consternation William forgets himself, forgets the laws of space, reaching as if to clutch at Carver through the mirror. His knuckles graze the glass and stick. There's a moment of pure bemusement—all the fear startled out of him—as finger by finger he starts to work himself free. Tries to catch Carver's eye, as though to say, you're seeing this too, right?

“No,” he says to the suggestion of breaking the mirrors. It's immediate, yanked out of him. Then he's left to grope for a reason, gripping the mirror's battered frame with his hand, glancing at the room around him. No holes. The walls unalterable. He thinks about his finger, there and gone.

“They're not trying to scare us.” William nods a few times to himself. His expression trembles into realization—he looks down and just as quickly to Carver's eyes. “They show what's really there.”