The funhouse was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against Mathew's ears like a physical weight. He moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors, every warped reflection in the funhouse mirrors distorting his already frayed nerves. Somewhere in the gloom, the imp's voice echoed with a sing-song quality, tinged with malice.
"Well, well, well. Look who decided to play!" it cooed. "The oh-so-serious Judge Mathew, in a house of fun. Isn't this just rich?"
Mathew ignored the voice, his eyes scanning the shadows. He felt a flicker of irritation rise in his chest but quickly suppressed it. This creature wanted him to lose his cool, and he wasn't about to give it the satisfaction.
"Why so grumpy, Your Honor?" the imp continued, its voice bouncing from one corner to the next. "Not a fan of a little fun? Or is it that you're scared of a house of mirrors? Don't worry—I promise I'll find your good side. If you have one."
"Enough games," Mathew said sharply, his voice echoing in the confined space. "Show yourself."
"Oh, but the games are the best part!" The imp's voice grew closer, and with a puff of glittery smoke, it appeared dangling upside down from a beam above Mathew's head. Its wide grin revealed rows of tiny, razor-sharp teeth. "Nice suit, by the way. You really dressed up to impress me, didn't you? I'm flattered."
Mathew glared up at it. "You're wasting my time."
"Oh, Judgey, time is a mortal construct. Relax a little! Come on, give me a smile. Or at least a less constipated frown."
The imp flipped down and landed in front of Mathew, its tiny form somehow radiating an aura of chaos. It wore a mismatched outfit of colorful stripes and polka dots, its oversized hat perched at a jaunty angle.
Mathew crossed his arms. "Are you always this irritating, or is it a special performance for me?"
The imp gasped, clutching its chest dramatically. "Irritating? Me? I am the pinnacle of charm! The absolute apex of charisma! You, on the other hand, are a walking raincloud. Seriously, do you ever have fun?"
"Fun?" Mathew's tone was flat. "My idea of fun doesn't involve playing hide-and-seek with a deranged jester."
"'Deranged jester'? That's a bit harsh," the imp said, pretending to wipe away a tear. "You hurt my feelings, Judge Stick-Up-His-Ass."
Mathew took a deep breath, his patience thinning. He lunged at the imp, but it vanished in a puff of smoke, reappearing on a nearby ledge.
"Missed me!" it sang, dangling its legs over the edge. "You're quick, but not quick enough. Maybe try some cardio?"
Mathew straightened, brushing off his coat. "Do you ever shut up?"
"Only when I'm asleep, and even then, I snore fabulously," the imp replied, lounging like a cat. "Face it, Judgey. You can't catch me. But I *do* enjoy watching you try. It's like watching a very serious puppy chase its tail."
Mathew clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He was smarter than this. The imp was clearly trying to provoke him, feeding off his frustration. He needed a different approach.
"Alright," Mathew said, stepping back and adjusting his cuffs. "If you're so determined to be the center of attention, you'll have to manage without me."
The imp blinked, its grin faltering. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Mathew said, turning his back to the creature, "that I've decided you're not worth my energy."
The imp scuttled down from its perch, darting in front of him. "Not worth your energy? *Me*? Oh, that's rich! Come on, Judge Buzzkill, don't be like that."
Mathew shrugged nonchalantly, inspecting his nails. "Honestly, you're more boring than I expected. I've seen court jesters with better material."
The imp's eyes widened, its tiny fists clenching. "Boring?! You take that back!"
"Why should I?" Mathew asked, stifling a yawn. "All you do is throw insults and disappear. It's childish, really."
The imp sputtered, pacing back and forth. "Childish? *Childish*? I am a master of mischief! A connoisseur of chaos! You wouldn't know fun if it bit you on your very finely tailored ass!"
Mathew ignored it, suppressing another yawn for good measure.
"Stop that!" the imp shouted, stomping its tiny foot. "You're doing that on purpose!"
"Doing what?" Mathew asked innocently.
"That!" The imp pointed a clawed finger at him. "The ignoring thing! You're ruining the vibe!"
Mathew smirked slightly, crossing his arms. "What vibe? All I see is a desperate little creature begging for attention."
The imp let out a shriek of frustration, throwing its hat on the ground. "You're impossible! No wonder demons hate lawyers—you're all the same! Arrogant, smug, and completely un-fun!"
With one final huff, the imp vanished in a puff of glittery smoke, leaving behind only the faint smell of burnt sugar.
Mathew exhaled, a small, victorious smile tugging at his lips. "Finally."
He stepped out of the funhouse, blinking as the carnival grounds came alive around him. Lights twinkled brightly, children's laughter echoed through the air, and vendors called out to passersby.
"Well, look who finally decided to join the party," Isabel said, leaning casually against a lamppost with a smirk.
Mathew frowned. "The carnival… it wasn't like this before."
"Wasn't it?" Isabel replied, pushing off the lamppost and clapping him on the shoulder. "Congratulations, by the way. You passed."
"Passed what?"
"The test," Isabel said simply. "I wanted to see how you'd handle yourself in the domain of an imp. Turns out, you're not completely hopeless."
Mathew scowled. "A warning would've been nice."
"Where's the fun in that?" Isabel teased, leading him through the bustling carnival. "You handled it better than I expected, though. Gotta say, watching you annoy that little bastard was the highlight of my week."
They wove through the crowds, eventually arriving at a modest trailer tucked away in a quieter corner.
"This is your office?" Mathew asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Don't judge a book by its cover," Isabel said, opening the door and stepping inside.
Mathew followed her, only to freeze in his tracks. The imp was lounging on a couch, munching on a bowl of chips.
"You've got to be kidding me," Mathew muttered, his voice dripping with disbelief.
The imp grinned, waving a chip at him. "Miss me, Judgey?"
Mathew turned to Isabel, his expression a mixture of irritation and confusion.
"Relax," Isabel said, flopping into a chair. "The imp and I have an… arrangement. Today was just a little test to see what you're made of."
Mathew sat down heavily on the couch opposite the imp, rubbing his temples. "This just keeps getting better."
The imp chuckled, crunching loudly on its chips. "Don't feel too bad, Judge Grumpy. Most people don't last five minutes with me. You, though? You're almost tolerable."
Isabel laughed, leaning back in her chair. "Get used to it, Mathew. You're in for a wild ride."
As the imp snickered and Isabel grinned, Mathew leaned back, his mind racing with questions. For the first time, he realized just how deep this rabbit hole might go—and that he had barely scratched the surface.