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"What do you want?" Mephisto said, poking his head outside the door. "Everything OK? Is that b*****d Hao giving you problems?"

(meanwhile)

"Has it been a long time, you poor man?" Priscilla asked. tracing his ribs.

"I don't know what you're...!"

"Yes, you do," Priscilla said, eyes glinting as her hand fell on Faust's belt.

"Madam," Faust said icily, stepping away from her. "I am a widower grieving on the anniversary of my wife's death. Have some respect."

"Really?" Mephistophiles asked, furrowing his brows. "In what way?"

(meanwhile)

"I am a widow, also, but since I am dead, what does that really make me?" Priscilla asked.

"You're dead."

"As you are, in your heart... as you should be in this world... give in, Faust VIII. Stop pretending that you're all right and realize the truth."

"Nah, he wouldn't have a woman in his room. Not tonight!" Mephistophiles said. "He usually ends up thinking for a long time about shooting himself, and then he gets over it and writes an entry for a scientific journal."

(meanwhile)

"I think we need each other, Johann," Priscilla said, edging closer to him. "Don't you find me alluring?"

"Don't call me Johann!" Faust said fiercely. His friends called him Hans, everyone else called him Faust... but only Eliza had called him Johann.

"You're not real," Faust said. "You're not real..."

"What's more real than your own mind? And if your reasoning is correct, there's nothing to fear from me, right?" she placed her finger against his lip. "Would it help... if I changed the way I look?"

"No... it wouldn't...."

"What if it was perfect? You so love perfect things, don't you, Johann?"

"Don't call me...!" but he wasn't able to finish. Priscilla looked like Eliza. No, she was Eliza. She kissed him ravenously, which was unusual for the gentle woman he knew, but the fluttering sensation in his chest was exactly the same.

"I'll come and look," Mephistophiles sighed.

(meanwhile)

"Is this where you shot yourself?" Priscilla asked sympathetically, touching the old scar.

"Yes... I destroyed my mind forever, maybe..."

"Or opened a door. Let light into a dark room." She pulled him softly towards the bed.

"You're not Eliza. You look like her... good job, but you're not her."

"You still want me, though."

Mephistophiles knocked on the door. "Hey, Faust buddy? You OK in there?"

(meanwhile)
"You're a necromancer. You're not castrated," Priscilla said, rolling her eyes as Faust turned away again. "You can't have lost your desire completely."

"Damn it, stop. You're not Eliza, and this isn't right."

"Don't play coy... everyone flirts with death, Johann."

Mephistophiles flinched violently as a gunshot rang out. "s**t!!!" he wrenched open the door.

Faust was staring at a bullet hole in the wall right over the headboard. Shaking, he dropped the gun and backed away from them.