(5:45:25 AM) showmejazzhands: Time was limited but there was at least one ghost inside of that haunted mansion that would buy Chess a little time and help in whatever way she could if she didn't let her fear of the woman get to her and Kaydence prayed to God himself that it would be enough time for him to turn and face the direction in which Jean had fallen. He was a gruesome sight, black hair slightly longer at the front than at the back hanging forward to frame his face, some stray strands in front of his eyes, his mouth a closed and bloody mess, crimson trickling from every needle wound though there was no thread in sight, his eyes torn, apologetic and his glock still grasped securely in his right hand. If only they'd listened to him, if only Jean-Auguste had answered his question instead of disappearing...if only Chess had stayed with Maria, all of this could have been avoided, he'd seen it play out but his sight was limited and the future had many possible paths to take though most ended with similar results in certain circumstances. 'Jean...I'm sorry.' He spoke his prayer to the angel, every word sincere and flooded with meaning and an emotion the young man never could seem to express with his voice. '...I always told you I was a lost cause. That you'd fail...A soul is a small price to pay to keep him safe, to keep him away from her...Promise me you'll never tell him.' He didn't waste a single second; he didn't wait for Jean to respond before he turned away from him and sent his message to Caim. 'You get the white witch out with Chess and it's all yours. Take it. Pick me up on the way through though; I have a bullet with her name on it.' (5:55:43 AM) PittSoDeep: Caim had a simple answer. "No." He held no stake in this. If Kay didn't sign Contessa could have Chess for all he cared. Caim wasn't in the mood for bargains. "I have a claim to Chess if I have your soul. I have no ground to stand on if ever I have to back myself up on my why's for a white witch. Good luck to you Kay." Caim's Thanksgiving had already been interrupted enough. He was dealing with a blessed child, his own child going on a year old he'd never even gotten to see before, he couldn't even touch much less hug to him for the first time this day. He had enough emotions to contend with. He didn't really care about Kay's. Jean heard Kay but his body was still recovering from the blow or he would have responded far more intensely. "Wait. Just wait." He started to plead but his mind was slow as he was still lost in that dazy space of being knocked out and coming to again. (6:00:44 AM) showmejazzhands: Kaydence would have screamed out in rage, he tried to, really he did but all it did was cause him pain, the feel of invisible stitches pulling the wounds teh needle had made in his lips even wider, making the blood gush. "Fine. I'll sign it right here just bring me the fucking contract. You get Chess out and drop me at the house; I'll get the white witch myself." That was his final offer but he was already making plans if Caim didn't respond to him. "I need you to take me there Jean, please, Chess will die if you don't, you've been in there before, I'm not asking you to stay on unholy ground just drop me off, I'll get them both out for you. I swear on my life." (6:10:13 AM) PittSoDeep: Jean was rousing more and was nodding his head yes because he had every intention of going there himself. But, before Jean ever got to his feet Caim appeared in flash of flame with contract and big fluffy feathery quill in hand. "The dotted line please and don't forget to read it first." It was very standard. I___________, on the November 22, 2012 do hereby knowingly and willingly sell my only soul to one demon, President Caim, the Earl of Hell to an eternity in Hell and vow my body, time, allegience, power, and full cooperation to his name in exchange for getting one Chester Clementine Scott-Wilde off the property of [inserts address here] . It wasn't long and didn't have fancy wording. It didn't have a lot quid pro quo. It was harder to crack that way. His contracts always were. The less words involved, the less chance for finding loopholes.