⚠️Currently under revision ⚠️ "Six Sides A' Die"-DevilDice 《Slow Updates》

13- Confrontation

Third person.

Dice could very well remember the day he was offered a deal by the devil himself. A lifetime of servitude in exchange for his life, a paying job, a home, the works. With some conditions, of course.

The deal itself wasn't bad. Dice either lost his soul, and reaped the benefits, or who-knows-what would have happened to him. The devil certainly had the power to leave a small, malnourished child's dismembered corpse in a ditch, minus a soul. And the morals which would have prevented any other normal person from doing such a thing, well, morals are a tricky thing with the devil. Very specific. So Dice wouldn't be able to say for sure that it wouldn't have been him, had he not accepted this offer.

The die couldn't imagine what he would be doing now if he hadn't ended up here, in this god forsaken place, and worked his ass off, all the way past the long time staff members, and having rightfully earned his place at the top. And he would keep doing so. He just wanted things to go back to normal, before everything came tumbling out. He couldn't look his boss in the eyes, he couldn't sleep right, eat right, and his family lurking around more frequently wasn't helping any of this.

Dice worked through his scheduled shifts with his normal, shiny, ever-happy customer service grin plastered nearly permanently onto his face. He was so enveloped in his work that he nearly forgot his troubles. But whenever the Dice's shift ended it all came crashing back, and he'd retreat back to his room before he could manage to run into any other staff members.

After only a week had passed the boredom and restlessness began to gnaw at him. He hated the thought of being in his room, the room where it happened. Dice began to take double shifts and even all three shifts, on a sleepless, aching grind. He couldn't do anything else, his contract did not permit him to leave the island without explicit permission, so he let his work consume him.

During that second week, on his second consecutive triple shift without so much as a wink of sleep, he was working at the bar. It was slow, and he took to polishing the glasses at the back once again, in an almost zombie like trance, missing the conversation that the few remaining patrons at the bar had attempted to initiate. Inside, out, swaying left, then right. And repeat.

And then a hand grasped at his shoulder. If Dice had been holding a glass in that moment, he would have dropped it for sure. His eyes flickered up wearily, his chin lifted slightly, but the face he had instantly expected was not staring him down intensely, so he glanced down instead, and Jewel was staring back at him. She looked concerned.

"Dice, I've never seen you like this before," she pulled him into a set of doors by the bar, and into the kitchen. "I haven't seen you relax in about half a month. I'd swear by now you're living off of caffeine, bourbon, and p.sugar. This isn't good." Her accent was thick now with her worry. Dice took a step back and looked around for something to occupy his hands. They sought out some dishes in a strainer waiting to be put away, and it was mindless work from there.

"I'm doing just fine, jewel. Really, I'm just working is all." Dice told her with as much sincerity as he could work into his voice, but it didn't come out entirely right. There was an odd break in the sentence where he couldn't quite place the excuse he was going for, so he just explained that he was working. As if she couldn't tell.

"No, dice, you're killin' yourself. Your smilin' an everything, but you don't look yourself. You aren't acting like yourself. I'm worried about you. You know if something is wrong you can tell me, right? Not just me, but any of us?" Jewel asked. She stayed propped on the other counter, giving Dice space, which he was thankful for, but he stayed silent. Dice became conscious of his hands moving, seemingly on their own, for yet another plate, and his mind flashed back very briefly to a phrase he had seemed to live by, not long ago at all.