Mephistopheles

"Is it treasure?" the innkeeper at the wharf asks the peculiar dragon who enters her establishment and makes himself comfortable at the corner of the bar. From here he'll be able to see all the comings and goings of the customers and the innkeeper wonders if she should be expecting trouble from this one.

"Is what treasure?" one of the aberration's heads asks. The other head says nothing, its faceted red eyes twinkling in the torchlight.

The innkeeper draws a steadying breath and answers, "Whatever brings you here."

"Ah." The traveler hums thoughtfully. "A kind of treasure, I suppose. Isn't that brings every to and from the sea?"

"You've got me there," the innkeeper concedes. "But it's not coin you're interested in, is it?"

"No, no. Not coin."

"Adventure?"

The one head chortles. The other continues its silent vigil, perusing the common room. "Adventure is not something I have to look for."

Despite the dragon's unsettling appearance and odd duality, she tries a third time: "Love?"

He wrinkles his snout in distaste. "So fleeting and fickle."

"Have you found it to be so? That's a shame."

"For both of us," he says with a long look.

The innkeeper pauses. She'd once been accused of wearing her heart on her sleeve. After it'd been broken a time too many, she'd taken to hiding it. Or so she'd thought. She opens her mouth to ask what he thinks he knows of broken hearts but before she can muster a word, he gently interrupts.

"Love didn't make you happy, did it? But I could. I could give you anything you desire. You ask what brings me here? Well, you. You brought me here." He grins, showing off rows of needle-thin, sharp teeth.

"In exchange for what?" she asks. Despite her immediate misgivings, she's morbidly intrigued.

"It's different for everyone, but it always the same: my payment is that which you do not yet possess."

The other head swings around and, with a flat look, states, "How can you refuse? You're getting along just fine as you are now, aren't you. Whatever it is we demand as payment, you can clearly live without."

He has a point. And she is tired of this monotonous drudgery. What if she took a chance? What if she did say yes? After all, what could be the harm?