Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

A glass chalice that contained echoes of laughter revolved on a pedestal in a dark room of heptagonal-sides whose vertices flashed crimson; the walls themselves were rotating.
...

A suited man on a couch in a svelte room of dim red allure laughed as he flipped his dinner-jacket button into the air; the button landed chalice down; the man frowned as he picked up the button between a finger and thumb, the button's position as a coal among tongs. The man indeed seemed to sweat from the heat of the red around him; his mouth slackly opened, his neck stiffly bent back as he dropped the button into his mouth and, swallowing, drank of the reaping chalice.
...
You don't play games with the devil. Not even your own personal demon. There's one in particular; enthroned, he holds a scythe, though that it be ceremonial; with the other hand he offers you a chalice. Play his game, it's his laugh in the end.