[Be sure to scroll back and make sure you didn't miss the last chapter!]

Five seconds from panic.

Smirky bit his tongue, and lurched his stock-still mind back to its senses by the taste of blood. The cabinet was off the beaten track – he hadn't been spotted yet.

Four seconds from panic.

He forced the file shut with a soft snap. The sound sounded muffled, like his ears were stuffed with cotton. His heavy breathing was so much louder.

Three seconds from panic.

The illusionist did his best to shove the Manila folder back where he'd found it; the depths and darkest corners of the cabinet.

Two seconds from panic.

He snagged a different file as he reeled his arm back. Whose? No time to check... Smirky picked a random page and threw his attention into looking busy.

One second from panic.

He then hopped off the stool, engrossed as could be. Everything about his body language read as relaxed, unhurried, and certainly gave off no 'I saw what you put in my file' vibes.

Zalgo was standing right there, arms crossed. The demon cleared his throat and spoke in a casual drawl, though his eying of the file in Smirky's hands was more than a passing glance.

"It's wonderful to see you already up and breaking the rules. Now, are there any hard feelings about the whole formula trick thing?"

Smirky lifted his head from the page and made eye-contact. He gave an unfaltering, unapologetic smirk. "There are."

"Oh." Clearly, that wasn't the expected answer. "But I trust these... hard feelings, won't be too problematic?"

"They might be."

He was skating on thin ice. But, at the moment, thin ice was safest - provided he didn't go under and into the frigid black water. "I've felt different ever since, you see."

The illusionist innocently tilted his head to one side, smirk morphing into an impeccable smile - sure that laying the act on thick would convey the message faster:

Don't mention it again.

It did.

Zalgo dropped the subject like a steamy hot potato wearing hot pink high heels.

We're very sorry for giving you that mental image.

We have no idea where it came from.

(Word count, word count, boosty boost boost!)

He didn't ask about the strength of the illusions. He didn't bring up Laughing Jack's name, or Smiley's, or anything about a 'final test'. Instead, he drew attention to the file.

"Ah, rule-breaking. The cabinet is strictly off-limits to anyone but myself. You know that. Yet it looks as though you've been quite busy."

"That I have," he murmured.

Was it a trick of the light, or did Zalgo's burning eyes flicker for a second? The demon began regarding him with a new strange kind of intense stare.

"How are your illusions? Are you finding them, perhaps, stronger than you're used to?"

One could've heard a pin drop.

But one wouldn't have, because the pin was a lie. So was this:

"They haven't changed a bit." Smirky stated, raising an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"

What happened next was... unexpected.

Zalgo hissed sharply, smoke flaring from his nose. His whiplike tail struck out and made a sizeable dent in the innocent, unsuspecting wall. "Dammit! It still isn't right?"

Under any normal circumstances, Smirky would've been quite intimidated by the demon's outburst; maybe frightened into stepping back a few paces.

"Are you sure? Absolutely certain - willing to swear on your soul even, that your illusionary abilities have not gotten stronger? Not an ounce of extra might?" he questioned – almost begging - through gritted teeth.

"Cross my heart and hope to suffer," Smirky assured him dryly.

Zalgo flipped a metaphoric switch, shifting to a cold wash sort of calmness. He straightened up, smoothing over his anger. "No matter. I'll have plenty of new subjects soon enough."

Still feigning ignorance, the illusionist dove straight to the heart of the matter. It was a long shot, but his aim was true.

"There's a few questions, that I'd like answered. If you answer truthfully, then I promise those aforementioned 'hard feelings' will... disappear."

"A bargain? Interesting. Where would those hard feelings lead if I refused?"

Smirky deliberately mulled over it. "I'd be inclined to take drastic measures, starting with some gasoline and a lit match..."

He clasped his hands behind his back in a sweet, angelic notion. The halo was back again, but this time it was invisible to all but the reader.

Half of him thought that the demon was going to say something along the lines of,

You wouldn't dare.

And the other half hoped he would, if only for the opportunity to prove him dead wrong

Now it was Zalgo's turn to consider carefully.

"Hmm..."

Smirky tried reading his face, curious about the thoughts running through his master's head. Were they violent ones? Worried doubts? Annoyance? Begrudging consideration?

"... It wouldn't be good for business," the demon chuckled good-naturedly, though his tail whipping to-and-fro sung a different, more menacing tune. "What do you wish to know?"

"Why did you deem it necessary to force the improved formula on me, why did you point a monochrome lunatic towards my room, and what were you thinking when you asked Kagekao to kidnap that little girl?"

"That's quite a mouthful. But before I tell you anything, I'd like to ask you a question too."

"A... question?" For a mind-numbing, frozen second - Smirky worried that he'd been caught out.

Hadn't he been quick enough to replace the file?

Did Zalgo already know that the real purpose of his questions was to veer the conversation towards 'what happens after you have more test subjects?'

Had his lie about the illusions been detected, even though the demon hadn't been expecting any bluffs?

He braced himself for... whatever was coming.

"Yes, a question." Zalgo sounded amused. He made a nod at the file that Smirky was holding onto. "Of all the secrets hidden away in that cabinet, why on earth are you reading about Laughing Jack's romantic interests?

Sadly, Smirky wasn't prepared enough for that.

____________________
A/N: Ta-da! Told you I'd have it here by tomorrow... Which is now, in my timezone...
Boy, I'm sleepy.
Place all lovely comment donations in the comment box! We're raising for... um... charity. Phantom's Apple Juice drive charity. Which somehow accepts comments as a valid currency.

Question of Le Day: If your favorite creepypasta was attacked and hurt badly, what would you do as revenge to the person who hurt them?
Quote Of Le Day: "It's a fundamental solution. The chicken crossed the road to get to the other side."

Toodles! I'm looking forward to your day-brightening comments! <3
TheNightPhantom
Final Word Count: 1121.