The bandmates set their instruments down as the mechanized fox demon Ronnie switched their amplifiers off. This was only the first set for the night, and the club's DJ took over the music duties while the MurderPonies took an hour-long break.

The rag doll hellhound Annie Stitch set her drumsticks down and was immediately fixated on her smartphone. The green skeletal demon Quetzalcoatl patted Odile on the shoulder with a smile, his long feathered tail trailing behind him as he walked off the stage to get a beer from the cooler out in their van.

For now Odile was alone. She may have felt like she had all the power when she sang, but as soon as the music ended it was like she reverted back to her old self. Shy, and feeling smaller than she was.

Odile was once a Korean-American ballet dancer named May Lin. Since she arrived in Hell, courtesy of an icy bridge when she was driving home one unfortunate evening, she hadn't been able to find work as a dancer that didn't involve stripping. Thankfully she didn't have to resort to that before she met Quetzalcoatl, or just "Quetzal" to his friends.

Along with Ronnie the Fox, they had been friends and roommates for a while before Quetzal was ready to start the band. After Annie joined he offered to let Odile audition really just for the hell of it, but she wound up blowing the other candidates out of the water, hitting that perfect balance of beautiful and robust vocals.

It wasn't dancing, but it was still a lot of fun. The MurderPonies had become a new family to Odile.

She made her way across the dance floor, shrinking as she weaved between the other club patrons in hopes that she wouldn't bother them, or rather that they wouldn't bother her. She took a seat at the bar, which was secluded for now, and she adjusted the swan pendant pinned to the front of her magenta shoulder-hugging blouse.

Ellie finished putting clean glasses away and asked with a smile, "What'll you be having, superstar?"

"Just a water will be fine," Odile requested a small voice.

In spite of having met before, it always baffled Ellie just how meek Odile really was when she wasn't performing. Ellie got her her water in a tall glass, understanding that she wanted to keep hydrated for the next set.

Odile took a couple swigs, her throat relieved.

"You put on a fine show up there," a voice filtered through a radio speaker complimented.

Odile looked to her right. Leaning against the bar was a tall fellow clad only in red with a Cheshire Cat grin on his face. His attire was weirdly formal to be in a club like this, and he looked awfully classy compared to the usual rando trying to hit on her.

"Um…" Odile nervously cleared her throat. "Thank you…" She didn't normally get positive feedback from audience members like that. Normally they just went about their business once the band stopped playing, usually to go get liquored up and fool around in one of the bathroom stalls.

"May I buy you a drink…?" he offered.

Odile instinctively put her palm over her glass and pulled it closer like a dragon hoarding its gold. She didn't care if it made her look "rude" or "unfriendly".

"No, thank you. This will do just fine."

"Understood." He cleared his own throat as if to disperse the tension. "My apologies. I don't mean to put you in an uncomfortable position, Miss… um…"

"Odile," she answered, still keeping an air of caution.

"Odile. What a fine name." He held out his hand. "The name's Alastor…"

Odile shook his hand, surprised at how firm yet gentle his grip was.

"… and might I say you gave a fantastic performance up there," Alastor continued. He adjusted the red-tinted monocle over his right eye and inquired, "By any chance are you the band's songwriter?"

Odile shook her head. "No."

"I see. Well, nonetheless your very energy was near-palpable."

"Um… thank you?" That was a good thing, right?

Alastor could read her confusion. "What I mean to say, my dear, is you seemed to have a sort of energy that wasn't just in your voice. You wanted to dance up there, too, didn't you?"

Odile's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"Well, it seemed quite obvious to me. You wanted to dance, but you were hindered by that standing microphone, and what's more that stage does not allow you much in mobility," he added pointing to the stage. He had a point. There was barely enough room for the bandmates and their instruments. "By any chance, are you a trained dancer?"

"Yes…" How did he keep detecting these things?

"But you also enjoy singing, correct?"

"Yes."

"Tell me, my dear, would you like to be able to do both?"

Odile was about to confirm his statement again, but she leaned back in suspicion. "What's all this about? What do you want?"

"Why, my dear…" He snapped his finger and a staff resembling an old-fashioned radio microphone materialized in his hand. "… I am a Radio Demon by trade. I can provide for both you and the MurderPonies access to the kind of tools you need to give the performances you have always wanted to give. Might I have a word with your bandmates later…?"

The Radio Demon… There was something in Odile's mind that almost clicked into place and tried to act as a warning, but unfortunately she couldn't remember what it was.

Odile thought about it. As long she and the band were in agreement… "All right."

"Wonderful!" Alastor declared as his shoulders perked up along with his smile. "Well, Odile, if you've no interest in a drink, then would you at least care to dance?"

Odile was speechless. She couldn't remember a time when anyone asked her to dance. Not in life or after death. She found herself eagerly finishing her water first, briefly regretting it when she was hit with brain-freeze. "Oh! Sonofabitch!"

Alastor stifled a giggle. So adorable.

He took his staff and tucked it into a seemingly endless pocket inside his coat. He held out his hand and suggested, "Come, my dear… Care to give me a demonstration of what you can do…?"

Odile's heart skipped a beat. She took his hand and he escorted her to the dance floor.