Seven Clouds sat diligently at the table, taking notes, while the witch lazily sprawled out across from him. She took another deep breath, smoke billowing outwards through her nose.

"Glad to see you have come to your senses, Child of Clouds." The witch tapped her pipe, and ashes spilled out from the tip. "To think you were still a Sleepwalker at this time? And that you've handled the realization remarkably well. Most men your age would break, you know?"

The words gave Seven Clouds pause. "Sleepwalker?" The words sounded familiar, although not for the reasons that the witch expected. It was a phrase he'd heard at Zen Electronics, during his interview and afterwards.

"Sleepwalkers straddle the world of the Dreaming and your new world-- the world of the Awake." The witch leaned in from her cloud of fog, blowing another plume from between her lips. "They have trouble comprehending the supernatural, even when it is blowing smoke in their face." The witch smiled, showing off rows of sharp teeth.

"They spend their lives asleep, ignorant of the truth." Seven Clouds muttered. "It's an apt turn of phrase." He reached for a pen, dipping it in a pink inkwell sitting on the counter. 

"The Neverlands has her hits and misses, I suppose." The witch in the smoke seemed much more relaxed, now that he was finally signing his life away.

"This contract says you can make my wishes come true. Is that real, Drunk Witch?" Seven Clouds looked up, to meet her in the eye.

"Drunk Witch? Is that really how my name looks in your language...?" Drunk Witch let out a smoke-filled sigh. "I would have assumed it would be read as Malt Liquor."

"Your name can be read a few ways." Seven Clouds frowned. "If I tilt the parchment in the right way, it can be read in English as well. Malty?"

"The name is close enough. Just speak to me in your own tongue." Drunk Witch's eyes close. "To answer your question, I can grant your wishes. I could do so effortlessly."

"But?" Seven Clouds felt that Drunk Witch was not telling the full story.

"To do so would be to rob you of the spiritual journey. You would grow physically, become powerful, but you would reach a roadblock. At that point, you would be helpless. You could not, and would never, be able to surpass your own limitations." Drunk Witch opened her eyes, keeping them half-lidded.

"I do not grant wishes. I give my servants the potential to secure their wishes with their own power. To grasp it, hold on and never let go." Drunk Witch grasped the smoke, and Seven Clouds could see it wrested into a physical object as she began to toy with the smoke. "I do not raise mere magical warriors, Seven Clouds. I raise gods who shape the Earth in their wake."

It was a tempting offer, Seven Clouds had to admit. Even if he was making this deal against his better judgment and at the barrel of a gun, it was better than anything that Zen Electronics could offer him. If this offer was real, then his family wouldn't have to worry any longer about making the rent each month, or paying for his father's medical bills.

"I'm signing up. I have little to lose." Seven Clouds made the decision to finalize his apprenticeship to the witch. Her eyes widened with interest as his pen left the parchment.

"Little to lose? You have so much further to fall, little Clouds." Drunk Witch snorts, coughing out a cloud of her own. "Well, then. With this deal, our contract is final."

Her hand extended, snatching the parchment. "I recommend you go home now. You will cover my shop in filth and grease if you stay." Her hand lazily waves Seven Clouds off. "When you're done rolling in pain tomorrow, we'll begin your training.

Seven Clouds wanted to ask what she meant by rolling in pain, but all that escaped his lungs was a plume of black smoke. His eyes started to shake.

"Tch. Getting smoke all over the parlor room. Who do you think you are?" With a lazy flick of her hand, the hypocritical Drunk Witch flung Seven Clouds into the store front, and he slid against the carpet. His body only stopped when a warm and fuzzy mitt caught him, inches before bumping into the wood.

"Boss, that isn't very nice. He's probably hurting." Seven Clouds could feel two strong and soft arms scooping him up, before coming face to face with a therianthrope. He looked familiar, two black and fuzzy ears sitting on top of his head, and deep set eyes with thick and heavy bags.

His skin was covered in a layer of peach fuzz, colored black and white like a certain popular bear living in the forests. "Don't worry, Sir. I can help you get home." The creature lumbered out the door, holding onto Seven Clouds in a princess carry.

"What? Get back here, Treasure! You can't just leave the till unguarded! What if we get a customer?!" Drunk Witch sputtered, evidently spurred by Treasure's declaration he would be guiding Seven Clouds home.

"Respectfully, Boss, I haven't gotten a day off since you summoned me. You can handle the customers. I'm taking Sir home." The beast yawned and lumbered through the entrance, shifting Seven Clouds until he could hold the squirming fellow in a single arm.

With his other arm, Treasure scooped up the bike that Seven Clouds had brought before looking down at the poor man. Seven Clouds, for his part, was beginning to sweat. Beads of black liquid were forming on his skin, and he grimaced in pain.

"Sir, you can trust in me to get you home." Treasure nodded. "We'll take my flat-bed. You can rest in the back." Treasure reached in his suit pocket for his keys, smiling at the human cradled in his arms.

The absurdity of a tubby panda driving a truck made Seven Clouds hesitate and nod, his lips parting to make out a smoke-filled thanks to his savior. He was going to have a lot to explain when he reached home...