“And what if, I take the term ‘treasures’ to a different level?” Faust inquired: his voice a level, deep hum, taut with both intrigue and tension. The echoes sounded through a void of black, bouncing off the same unseen surfaces this-…creature’s desk rested upon. There was nothing below their feet nor any air to breathe in this pocket of abyss buried deep in the doctor’s subconscious: a dream land absent of any dreams. Illusion was the reality. Confusion was the natural logic. Thinking straight would be odder, especially here, with him, demon or saint of twists ready at his disposal should he just give him the word. If the rumours from the madmen were true, and this wasn’t all just a phantom of some untouchable fantasy, then Faust should know well how this game was played. But… “I don’t care for your average twists.” The doctor explained. His sharp, intrusive eyes slid over the boy’s arrangement before he leaned onto the desk with both hands, looking for the face whose disturbing grin he could feel but yet could not see. But still he stared and stared and stared, always searching nonetheless. “I offer you something else instead.” The compass of his heart wavered before his next words could swell up. This…or that? The now or the then? In the face of a chance – no matter the risk – the temptation to bet high and big was beyond tantalising to Doctor Faust. Yet he still had his morals. And though the Goddesses and their pet Fate could be bitches he knew that there limits he should not cross. At least, not yet. So the other then. With a decisive, grim spark to Faust’s relentless stare he straightened back up to empty his pockets of all the wealth they carried. It wasn’t much – only twenty-three rupees in total – but still more than the ominous manifestation before him had originally asked for. Their chimes as they spilled across the oak surface were still ringing in his ears when he spoke up again with all the anticipating growl of a challenge. “I play my left eye.”
