“They’re Death Goggles. Been in my family forever, but I really need cash badly. Make me a decent offer for them?”
Since I run the only occult pawn shop in existence, all kinds of weird stuff makes its way to me. Made from the twin barrels of a shotgun used to commit a truly heinous murder, I knew I wanted them. I could see misty tendrils of ectoplasmic energy with only a cursory glance through them. Yeah, I wanted them.
He left ten minutes later with a thousand cash and a lot of grumbling. But hey, business IS business, y’know.