“My name is Albert Carol.” Albert grinned as he spoke. With his palms pressed firmly onto the surface of the desk, there was a sort of excited tension in his body. Or at least, what he thought was his body. The nature of his existence still confused him. “My name is Ge…” Albert choked out a second attempt. An intentional lie.

“I deserve my soul more than Death does.” Albert raised an eyebrow as he completed the statement.

“What an individual deserves is somewhat arbitrary in a grander scheme of things.” Death sighed.

Albert took note of the other man’s hands, still on the table, and shrugged.

“There are people that would miss me if I suddenly disappeared or died. They shouldn’t be let down. Even in a grander scheme of things.”

“That would the first reasonable argument out of your mouth.” Death nodded. “And who would these people be? Would there be more people depending on you than me? If there were more depending on my work, then I would say that I am more deserving of your soul and property than you.”

“That’s what you would say.” Albert narrowed his eyes at Death. “What would the table say is the truth? Or better yet. What is the truth.”

“If one party in a conflict contains more dependents than the opposition, their cause is more deserving. As for the absolute truth, I should retire this table if every poor soul I sit in front of it abuses it to buy time before their inevitable loss.”

“What about the value of individual connections? I argue…” Albert paused and waited for what felt like an appropriate time before restarting his statement. “Some connections—friends, family, dependents, whatever you call them—have greater weight and value than others. A closer connection is more deserving of preservation than a more distant one.”

“I will concede that, though it would be impossible to measure such a weight. And in the measure of numbers, thousands rely on my work and continued prosperity. Would your few strong connections out-value my thousands? The desk forces truth by way of honesty, it is not a calculator of obscure variables.”

“Then how about I try both arguments? The connections I have are more valuable than those of Death’s.” Albert paused, nervous as he forced himself to say the opposing statement. “Death’s connections are more valuable than mine.”

“Do you see now? Just because you can make a statement does not make it absolute. Both could be true. That is to say, both exist outside the realm of absolute falsehood. This is what I tried to warn you of when you began making wider reaching statements. The desk alone cannot prove either of us the victor, but we can certainly rely on it to keep us from telling lies.”

“Then I shouldn’t be able to say that you have a right to my…” Albert choked, though he was prepared to. “So the desk can tell me that you have no right, and it will prevent me from saying you have any right. So. You are trying to cheat me.”

“In a sense, yes. I cheat everyone. That does not mean that…” Death paused and pressed his lips together tightly. “That does not change the circumstance of this ordeal. I collect the souls of the dead and dying to utilize what remains before they are left to waste. You are dead and fading.”

“But you can allow me to live.” Albert had begun his statement with absolutely no confidence. He was honestly surprised that it hadn’t been interrupted. But it further proved the statement that there was another way out. Death could let him go and restore his body. Or at the very least, there was some semblance of life that Death could return him to.

“And why should I? Who are these people that are so powerfully connected to you that I should turn this time into a deficit for?”

Albert paused and looked down at his hands. He was almost embarrassed, but this wasn’t some teenage punk trying to get him to say what he was about to say. This was Death.

“My mom.”

“Really.” Death seemed more curious than disparaging or confused. “I hesitate to think that most boys your age would admit to that. And just your mother?”

“She’s all I have, really. And I’m all she’s got. Not like… in a hover-parent sort of way. She’s not like that. She… She’d kick your teeth in if she were here.”

“A protective woman. Most mothers… most decent mothers are.”

“Yeah.”

“And just your mother? No other soul on this earth would care if I cut your life short for good?”

“I don’t know? Can you list every person you’ve ever met that would remember you?”

“I can.”

“Shut up. I wasn’t being serious.”

“Your outburst aside. I am sure that your father… would miss you?”

“If he knew about me, maybe? What are you getting at? Or are you just trying to make me feel like crap? 'Cus that’s not helping your case.”

“I am considering your claim.” Death frowned. Not upset, but contemplative.

“You mean you might actually admit you’re wrong?”

“No. Though I may concede to an alternative solution.”

“And why would I ever trust you to offer me a solution that wouldn’t screw me over? After all this? There’s no way you’re just changing tunes for no reason.”

“Hands on the table, Albert.” Death hummed, almost not paying attention. Albert certainly noticed that his hands had entered a tirade of gesturing that had lifted them well off the desk.

“This arbitration may well end in a stalemate. You seem to be about as stubborn as I am. And I seem to have lost the advantage of your fear in the midst of chaos. It seems, also, that what passes for the truth has emboldened you and there is little I can do without damaging what it is I desire. This all being said, I will offer you the following deal: bring me two souls. One to take your place, and one to compensate me for this waste of time. And then, when the time comes that you die of your own errors, perhaps you will reconsider my original offer.”