Momento2

Terrence held his head in his hands. He quietly and quickly hyperventilated before looking back up at the impossible figure that had only seconds before fizzled into existence collapsed cordially on the seat across from him.

"You again." He monotoned.
"Well, of course." the Devil smiled, "You really thought you had seen the last of me?"
"I had sort of hoped, yeah." Terrence monotoned again.
The Devil smoothed his comb-over and adjusted his suspenders. "That wasn't the deal, my little friend. The deal was seven chocolates. And how many do you have left? Hmmm...."
"None." Terrence said.
"Two." Ginny interrupted. Terrence glowered at her, pointlessly. "Well, we do." She replied, "Besides, its not like he doesn't know anyway. Or can't find out..." She trailed off despondently, for a moment looked exactly half of her twenty-four years.

The subway car shuddered to a halt. The last passenger hurried home. Now they were alone, Ginny, Terrance, and the Devil. They waited. The doors creaked closed and the subway shuddered back up to speed. The Devil sighed.

"Listen you two. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You have been a thorn in my side since that first phone call and I would rather be rid of you. I don't care if you win, lose, or end up chained to an under-demon for all eternity. Just as long as you get out of my hair." He grimaced. "Figuratively speaking of course. Now, if you would just eat those chocolates, we can be done."
"And if we don't?" Ginny mouthed petulantly, effectively halving her age again.
"Then I win."
"And if we do?" Terrence interjected.
"Then I might still win." The Devil grinned, devilishly.
"Well, how do I win?" The two asked simultaneously in the chord of D-flat.
"It all depends. See, I made a bet, which I won't tell you about, so don't even ask. But if you don't eat them, I definitely win." He smugly pulled a pipe out of his pocket and started smoking it. It smelled like brimstone and petunias.
"What's in them?" Terrence asked suspiciously.
"One is Certain Doom. The other is Probable Destruction. You can take your pick. If you want." The Devil punctuated this last point with a smoke ring.
"What does that mean? Certain doom, probable destruction? Of what? Us? How bad? Are we talking doomed forever?" Terrence paced, swinging from handhold to handhold like a parody of a monkey. "Doomed how? Destroyed how? Like if you destroyed my house, that wouldn't be so bad, I guess..." Terrence turned, too late, "Ginny, NO!!"

Ginny swallowed the last of the chocolate, smudged a hand across her face and grinned toothily, like a three-year old.