Chapter 11:

Vaggie sat, stooped over the administrator's desk as she pored over the Hotel's expenses; it'd be a lean month, from the look of it. It'd been over a year and they'd still hadn't stopped paying for the damage to the Hotel. Angels and bombs and gangsters, oh my! And now Charlie had gone and invited another potentially destructive demon into their midsts. Just once, Vaggie would like for their clients to be something mundane, like an adulterer or a Wall Street Wolf or the normal kind of assassin. Was that too much to ask? Not helped by Lucifer's reduction in Charlie's allowance. He wouldn't shut the place down personally, no, that would send the wrong message, i.e. the Hotel was a threat. But now that redemption was possible(?) he certainly couldn't be seen patronizing the establishment. On one hand, it meant less reliance on literally the most evil thing in creation, on the other hand it meant that the Hotel was underfunded and unprotected.

Though, given Charlie's recent display of canniness, Vaggie was beginning to worry less and less. Just that night, in fact, Charlie had shown her shrewdness in dealing with the likes of Alastor. The Radio Demon, obviously chafing under his self-inflicted role as a 'specialist', attempted to retreat from Charlie's 'team-building exercises. In reality, she, Niffty, and Charlie were watching rom-coms, painting their nails, and braiding each other's hair. Alastor, of course, demurred and left to do… whatever it was when he wasn't lurking about in the shadows.

Then, Charlie said: 'Oh, it's good enough for Sally, but not for you? I thought you wanted ammo, Al.'

For some reason, this stuck with him and he remained, standing in the corner of room, leering from the shadows, occasionally commenting on the (admittedly frequent) lapses in logic on the part of the characters. The night went well enough, with Niffty and Charlie prattling on about girly stuff, Alastor offering a spiteful running commentary, and Vaggie… failing to unwind. It was something of an ongoing issue, she was willing to admit, but there were worse problems to have besides 'a mild case of anhedonia' as Alastor put it.

Dickhead.

Vaggie could hardly relax and enjoy faff like bad movies and braided hair and such when the Hotel was in the red and powerful demons were crawling out of the woodwork to bring the whole thing down around their ears! She could only really do anything about one of those, but that's what she was going to do!

The door to the office opened and closed with a deliberate slowness, as though trying to escape notice. Vaggie didn't bother looking up from the paperwork, she could tell it was Charlie by the Joy by Jean Patou that wafted in.

"Sorry I bailed on girl's night," Vaggie said, scribbling in the margins. "I just couldn't relax while the budget was–"

A long, shapely leg stretched out on her desk, alabaster skin almost shining in the light cast by the lamp, standing in stark contrast to the dark fishnet stocking criss-crossing it. Vaggie's eye crawled up, and up, and up the leg until it finally ended in a small scrap of blue denim that might have been jeans at some point, mercilessly cut up, their remains now snugly hugging a full, shapely figure. Vaggie looked up to see the Princess of Hell smiling down at her, her chin notched playfully on her wrist, her fingers waving 'hello'.

"Fancy meeting you here," said Charlie, winking at her flustered girlfriend. "Come here often?"

Vaggie's eye darted all over Charlie's form; the make-up, the top (a black Bardot long-sleeve crop-top) even the way she had her hair braided and done up in gold brackets. It was all terribly… familiar.

"Charlie, what…?"

"You looked tense all night," said Charlie, crossing her other leg over onto the desk. "I thought I'd… help."

"Charlie, this is…" Vaggie's eye drank her in, a heady flush burning in her cheeks, bright and hot. "…Weird."

"Oh?" Charlie pouted playfully, crossing her arms across her lap, accentuating her sizable assets. "Don't tell me, he wore it better?"

"Charlie…" Vaggie husked, her heart racing.

A flash of genuine concern flashed across Charlie's immaculately made-up features. "Do you not like it?"

Vaggie's eye widened, she shook her head and took Charlie's hand in hers. "Babe, no! I mean, yes, yes I like it! You look amazing!"

"Oh, too bad…" Charlie said, her mischievous moue back in full force. "I was hoping you'd tell me to take it off…"

That did it. All thoughts of budgets and balance sheets and the questionable nature of dressing up like a patient for a lover were instantly drowned by a hot rush of blood. An overwhelming need surged through her as she shot to her feet, a rapacious smile on her normally severe features.

"Oh no… that's my job!"

Vaggie leaned forward and kissed her, forcefully, her hands tracing up Charlie's lean, shapely legs, her fingers finding the waist of her Daisy Dukes.

"Ah ah…" Charlie whispered into her mouth. "No hands."

Vaggie smirked as Charlie undid the button and sat back on the desk, her legs spread. Vaggie leaned over and took the zipper between her teeth. It really had been far too long since they'd had time to themselves. In the back of her mind, Vaggie suspected that this was probably the exact reason Charlie was so compliant with Husk's 'Guy's Night' plan.

Whatever.

She drew down the zipper with agonizing slowness, savoring the build-up. Charlie's cheeks burned red, her breath coming in needful pants. "Vaggie…"

The door to the office swung open with a bang, standing in the doorway was an agitated-looking Niffty. "Charlie! Vaggie! In the lobby! Come quick!"

Vaggie leapt back from Charlie, her eye glowing red. "Niffty! Knock!"

Charlie's legs swung shut as she hurriedly did up her fly. "Uh, w-we were just, uh–"

"Don't care!" Niffty said, running out the door, beckoning them. "The guys are back early, there's something you need to see. It's Moonie!"

"Moonie? What is it? Niffty!" Charlie hopped off the desk and followed after, turning around. "Vaggie, you coming?"

"Go ahead, I'll be right with you." Vaggie got to her feet, glaring at nothing in particular as she collected the paperwork that had been scattered. 'Nosy little… is it possible for a chick to get blue balls?'

Charlie rounded the corner to see Husk, Angel Dust, and a tall demon in a toga and a baseball cap. Husk was in the middle of fending off Niffty, who was pestering the new guy, pulling at the sheet covering his body.

"But he's all dirty! I can't let him wear that rag a second longer!"

"We'll get him to a shower! Hands off, Critter!"

As Charlie drew closer, her nose curled at what she could only identify as an overwhelming meat-smell, blood and bowel and other such low odors; this new guy smelled like a slaughterhouse floor.

"Husk? Angel?" Charlie said as she drew closer. "Why are you back so early? Who's this? Where's Moonie?"

"Oh, uh, hey Chuck…" Husk said, trying and failing to look nonchalant.

Angel sighed and shook his head. "Oh, here we go…"

The new guy turned around and Charlie gasped: it was Moonchild, over a foot taller and more heavily built, but there was no mistaking it. She could also see now that he was covered in blood. Her mind was whirling with questions What had happened? Was he hurt? Why did he look so (hot!) different? Why did her patients keep coming back to her covered in blood?!

"What are you wearing?" She heard herself say. 'Oh, I'm leading with that, am I? Stupid!'

"Mr. Husk said that after what happened at the casino, I probably shouldn't show my face in West Central for a while. Hold on…"

Moonchild reached up and took off the hat, shaking out his 'hair' in a tumbling cascade of rose-pink, blood-splattered tentacles, framing his high, proud cheekbones and square, defined jaw perfectly. The air around him practically glowed.

Niffy's jaw dropped, her eye wide and gleaming, Charlie turned to Husk, her gaze as cold and clear as an arctic breeze. "Casino?"

Husk chuckled nervously, tapping his fingers together. "Uh, well, y'see–"

"You told me you were just going out on the town!"

"Technically, the casino is part'a the–" Angel began to say, the words dying in his throat the second Charlie turned her glare to him. "Shutting up."

"You were using him to cheat, weren't you?!"

"N-now, Chuck…"

"Miss Charlie, please don't be angry with Mr. Husk," Moonchild said, stepping between them. "I agreed to it, I'm just as much to blame as–"

"Moonchild," Charlie said, her tone firm and authoritative. "This is between me and my employee. If you would kindly head back to your room, I'll be with you in a little bit, alright?"

Moonchild hung his head and nodded, glancing at Husk, who nodded and bade him leave. "Thank you, Angel, Mr. Husk. Except for that last part, I actually had a lot of fun."

"Get some sleep, kid," Husk said. "Ya did good."

"Git yer ass inna shower while yer at it!" Angel called after him then, glancing at a leering Niffty, said: "And lock yer door!"

Moonchild nodded and made off for his room, Charlie could practically feel the exhaustion in every step; whatever happened seemed to have wrung just about every last drop of energy out of the demon.

"Alright, what's the big–" Vaggie said as she turned the corner, almost walking into Moonchild. "Whoa-shit! I… Moonie?"

"Hi, Miss Vaggie, Imma gobed…" Moonchild yawned, brushing his hair out of his eyes, showing off his impressively defined bicep as he did, sparkles shimmered in the air.

"Oh, uh… yeah, whatever. Good night, Moonie." Vaggie looked him up and down as he walked past her, expression flat and uninterested. 'No more femboy? …I just can't have anything today, can I?'

"I'll go make sure he gets right off to sleep!" Niffty said, skipping down the hall.

Without looking, Charlie reached back and plucked the little insect off the ground and tucked her under her arm.

"Aww!"

"Alright, what happened?"

Husk opened his mouth to respond when a ghoulish, red-taloned hand settled on his shoulder. Husk glowered up at Alastor, snarling as he slapped his hand away. "Paws off, Grins!"

"Seems like the three of you had yourselves something of a roll, eh?" Alastor said, turning to Charlie. "Before you go and get your jaundiced account of the evening, might I interest you in some quality journalism?"

Alastor waved his hand and the wide-screen monitor of the front-desk computer spun around, the screen flickering to life, showing the characteristic layout of Channel 666, streaming news.

"–ust in, revised casualty lists place the number of slaughtered at 85, with over 150 seriously injured. The identity of the attacker is presently unknown, as is the motivation for the attack, but we here at Channel 666 would personally like to thank this mystery massacre-master for this wonderfully gory story! For those of you just tuning in, we will be uploading fresh new footage of the massacre every hour on the hour! Should any of you encounter the suspect, he is considered by authorities to be unarmed and extremely dangerous. Only approach him if you have one or more friends nearby to record your gruesome disemboweling and send it to us. The present going rate for footage is one souls per second, with bonuses offered for video quality and number of distinct organs visible!"

Charlie's eyes went wide as the footage played on loop; grainy, high-vantage security footage showed the very familiar monster threshing dense crowds of fleeing gamblers. Shaky, handheld footage from a phone thrashed about in a crowd, occasionally panning down to a fresh corpse, limbs and viscera and raw flesh on lurid display. Another video showed Diavolo snatching a demon's head clean off his shoulders and throw it like a fastball, blasting a hole in the chest of a towering suarian.

"Oh, my God…" She murmured. "What–? How? How?!"

"The pertinent question, in my opinion, is 'why'," said Alastor, gesturing at the bloody and disheveled demons. "As in 'why are these two still in one piece' and 'why is our violent friend not still carving a bloody swathe through West-Central'."

Charlie turned to Husk, her arms crossed, her stare withering. "Well?"

"Awright, cliffnotes,' said Husk, quickly running through the rough outline of the night, with some pointed omissions. "…And, after that we just left before anyone could recognize him."

Charlie was silent, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, Husk cleared his throat and rubbed his arm, nervously. "Yer, uh, ya ain't mad, are ya Chuck?"

"Mad? No, I'm not mad," she said, the air around her curdling, electrifying, glowing as her eyes flashed red, her teeth growing into fangs as horns sprouted from her forehead. "Mad doesn't even begin to cover it!"

The air surged out and away from her in a powerful wind, physically pushing Husk and Angel backwards on their heels. Niffty tumbled backwards only to be caught and held by Alastor, who shot a shocked glance at Vaggie, who herself was looking worried.

"Hey, Chuck, c'mon!" Husk said, eyes wide, his normal, surly tone long gone. "Calm down! No one got hurt!"

On the screen, a demon screamed as his head was smashed into his shoulders by a giant fist, Channel 666 added a comical, cartoonish 'bonk' sound effect and a laugh track.

"…No one got killed?" He said, trying to sound as small as possible.

"One guy got killed," said Angel, also cowering.

"Right, just one guy!"

"By me! Not Moonie! I killed 'im wit' my knife!"

"We are not helpin' our case here…"

Charlie inhaled through her nose a few times, her monstrous features receding with each exhale. Before long, she was back to normal. She put her hands together and touched her fingers to her lips, her brow furrowing as she glared at them. "Alright. Husk, you're fired. Angel, you're grounded. We're done here."

Husk was silent, his eyes wide.

"What?!" Angel exclaimed. "Chuck, ya can't do that!"

"Oh, yes I can!" She said, her hands on her hips. "You're my patient, and so long as you want to stay here, you do what I say!"

"Fuck that, I meant ya can't fire Husk!" Angel put an arm around the stunned sphinx's shoulders. "It was my idea! I talked 'im into it!"

"I don't care! I can't have an employee who'll endanger patients on a whim, or for self-gain!" Charlie said, jabbing a finger at Husk. "You were using a vulnerable soul to cheat at a casino! What if you got caught? What if you got him killed? What then?"

Husk sighed and looked at the floor, he had no answer to that besides: "Yer right. I'm sorry. I'll go."

"Wait, no! Ch-Chuck–Charlie! Ya can't-ya-I-he–" Angel stammered as Husk made for the door, his eyes wide and pleading. "Yer just hurtin' Moonie, wit' this!"

"What do you mean?" Charlie said, arching an eyebrow.

"Ya saw him, didn't ya?" Angel said, striking a muscle pose. "He's changed! He came outta that monster lookin' like that! Ey, Al, yer the expert! Would Moonie from a day ago have been able to punt that cunt back inta Limbo?"

Charlie turned to Alastor who, despite his irritation, rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Not a chance in France, I'm afraid."

"See!" Angel said, dragging Husk over to him. "We bonded with the kid! We-we talked him down, Chuck! We got through to him while was all like that–" Angel gestured at the screen, wherein a hellhound was being skinned like a rabbit. "Me an' Husk, we're his buds now! Moonie stopped Asshat-Moonie from hurtin' us all by hisself! He shook off Devil-guy because we told him he had it in him! Because we believed in him! Chuck, it's workin', we just gotta, like, stay the course or somethin'! Firin' someone he trusts would cause him to, I dunno, relapse or somethin'?"

Charlie glanced between Husk and Angel, her hands balling into fists before she threw them up, exacerbated. "Fine. Fine! Husk, you're back on, but no more funny-business! Angel… I'm not sure if I should be annoyed or happy that you've been paying so much attention. But no more 'Guy's Night', understand?"

"Don't need to tell me twice!" Husk said, wiping off his brow.

"Yeah!" Angel said, smiling gratefully. "We keep barely makin' it back from these things! Slap my ass, but I think I wanna stay in for a while."

"Finally, some good news," Charlie grumbled, rubbing her temples. "Anyway, I gotta go talk to Moonie. Everyone just… just don't get into any more trouble."

"You got it," Husk said, before reaching out to her. "Chuck! …Charlie. I got somethin' to tell ya."

Charlie turned to face him, her expression unfathomably tired. "What is it, Husk?"

He paused, reconsidering, did he really want to lay that drama-bomb on her, now of all times. No, better wait until he knew for sure. "Uh… thanks for not cannin' me."

"Don't thank me yet," she said, looking flatly amused. "You're Moonie's best friend now, right? Well, I'll hold you to that. We've got so, so many fun hobbies to try tomorrow. You'll just love it!"

"Fuuuuuck…" Husk groaned and slapped his hand to his face, hard enough to be painful. "…I deserve that."

"Ey Chuck!" Angel called out.

"Yes, Angel?"

"Nice outfit." He smiled wryly, looking her up and down. "Looks familiar."

Charlie jumped and looked down at herself, her face flushing bright red. "Oh no."

"Moonie wore it better," said Niffty, crossing her arms and sticking her nonexistent nose up.

"I'm going to go change…" Charlie said, laughing nervously. "And then I'm going to go see Moonie!"

Charlie took off down the hall and Vaggie approached the two of them. "That's honestly the closest I've seen Charlie to losing it. Congrats."

"Yeah, well," said Husk, reaching into a bag and producing six stacks of bills. "Sixty K, for the Hotel's fund. Figger it'd take the edge off."

"And here," Angel said, reaching into his purse and handing her a long rectangular steel box. "Cuz I feel bad or whatever."

Vaggie opened it and gasped, seeing twenty large, fat stacks of bills reading 10K. "Holy shit, Angel!"

Husk gawped at the box, turning to Angel. "Where'd ya get that?!"

"We was in a safe, remember?" Angel shrugged. "Ya tellin' me ya didn't pocket a few goodies?"

"I was busy tryin' to not get squashed!"

"Well, that's sounds like yer problem, Mittens."

"This just in!" Katie Killjoy crowed from the desk monitor, her rictus grin creaking across her face. "We have none other that the Azathoth's owner, Frederick Von Eldritch himself, on the line to personally deliver a message to the perpetrator. His Excellency Frederick Von Eldritch, everyone!"

The screen switched to a severe-looking archdevil. His body was a comely, dignified conglomeration of tentacles and teeth in humanoid form, his brutally handsome face pulled into a menacing scowl. "Thank you, Ms. Killjoy. Citizens of Pentagram City and beyond, today an entity known only as the Red Nightmare, without discernible cause or motive, openly and brutally attacked the patrons of the Azathoth Casino, my casino. Hundreds were butchered and will be laid low for months, if not years, as they regenerate, and countless more were horrifically mutiliated. The cleaning bill alone is estimated to be in the hundreds of thousands. To this nameless killer, this 'Red Nightmare', I have only this to say: I will look for you, I will find you, and I will…"

He leaned back in his chair, a grin on his face as he gestured at a graphic displaying a barred fighting ring with all manner of gruesome implements. "…Pay you handsomely to be the breakout star of my newest caged fighting arena! After going over your (ahem) 'resume' with the heads of my marketing department, we strongly believe there is a sizable market for your 'splash zone' fighting style! If this offer interests you, my contact information will be displayed here, here, and here. Phone, text, email or fax, I eagerly await your response! To reiterate: your pay is highly negotiable!"

Angel grinned and turned to Husk. "Are ya ponderin' what I'm ponderin', Mittens?"

Husk growled and smacked Angel across the back of the head.

"Oww! Fuck! I was fuckin' jokin', ya cocksucker!"

"Me next! Me next!" Vaggie exclaimed, jumping up and smacking the spider.

"Fuck off, Snatch!"

Down the hall, Alastor watched as the fools indulged in yet another round of bickering. They had no idea how close this edifice was to the abyss, to the gnashing, brutal jaws of the Inner Circle. It wouldn't do to actually warn any of them, since it was always Alastor's experience that jumpy, alert prey would often spring the very trap they ran to avoid. No, they were perfect the way they were, ignorant stooges were predictable, after all. Besides, Charlie may yet get this one out of his grasp as well.

His smile almost faltered for a moment. That the Princess was right ate at him some. What a humdinger of a turn-out! Redemption, whoda thunk? Still, if killing the fools was off the table, tossing them into the neighbor's yard would have to do. However, the fact he had to enter her service and dance to her tune like a capering monkey was nothing short of agony. But necessary agony is character-building, after all! Once the lad was far enough along, perhaps Alastor would tempt Angel with a bump of toot and get fired from this searingly saccharine servitude. At the very least, he'd get a tops show from the Princess. Husker very nearly bore the brunt of the Princess's slow-burning wrath, but even that was but a gentle summer breeze compared to what he sensed in her.

His grin widened into a leer.

He was hardly one to drop jaw and drool over a supple slice, but even he felt some manner of stirring when Her Highness bared her fangs. Perhaps it was the mental and ethical fatigue such a lapse in control implied? Or it was the momentary breakdown of her morals that excited him so, the betrayal of her precious principles? Maybe it was the truly vibrant, delicious carnage such a being could unleash when pushed too far, the sheer power and fury percolating away under that cheerful, bubbly demeanor?

Oh yes. Quite the stir indeed.

His ear twitched, he glanced up and over his shoulder, to the ceiling and the rooms beyond.

"Who's this, now?"

Octavia stepped through the portal and into the room, glancing around at the tastefully appointed suite. Not bad. Not her cup of tea, but she could certainly appreciate the effort and flair that went into the decorating.

'This is Moonie's room?' She thought. 'Huh… I can see why he stays here. Is that how she draws them in? Free food, nice digs, safety… all that shit I take for granted as a spoiled princess? Ugh, I just made myself sick.'

She sniffed the air, her keen senses picking up a delicate smell that made her mouth water: blood and raw meat. Octavia rarely indulged this part of herself, too 'Old School Demon' for her tastes, but she couldn't deny that sometimes she just wanted to bite into something hot and bloody.

Getting off-track here.

Another smell was carried on the air, sweet and chemical, drifting on a warm, humid draft: shampoo. That and the sound of pattering water indicated where Moonchild was at the moment. Octavia sat down on his bed, bouncing lightly on it, testing the fabric of the blankets and sheets. Pretty good. Not impressive by her standards, but certainly several cuts above what the average Hellion would be accustomed to. She sat up when she heard the pattering of the shower cease, suddenly aware of the possibility that Moonchild may not be decent when he walked out of there. Eh. Whatever. While she wasn't attracted to him in that way, but she would freely admit that Moonie was easy to look at.

Besides, his reaction was going to be hilarious.

The door opened with a soft billowing cloud of steam, out of which walked a tall, almost as tall as her, and fabulously well-built demon, nude save for a small towel wrapped about his waist, his head swaddled in a towel as he dried himself off. Octavia's eyes snapped open in shock. Had she gotten the locator spell wrong? Who's room was this? Should she hide?

His skin was smooth and rubbery, red with criss-crossing bands of white forming a very familiar diamond pattern all over his rugged, muscular body. The mystery demon stopped drying and wrapped the towel over his shoulders, throwing his head back and shaking out the numerous long pink tendrils that served as his hair. Octavia gasped upon seeing his face, he had a more robust, masculine bone-structure and a squarer jaw, but was unmistakably…

"Moonchild?"

Moonchild started, his eyes wide as he spun around to look at her, one hand uselessly trying to cover his body while the other grabbed at the towel about his waist, ensuring it stayed in place. "O-Octavia?!"

He looked… different, and his voice was a little deeper, smoother, but this dork was undoubtably Moonchild. "Hey… uh…"

"When did you get here?" Moonchild said, looking around the room. "Does Charlie know?"

"No, I, uh, I took one of my dad's grimoires and portaled here." Octavia said, walking over to him. "Moonie, what-what happened to you?!"

"Hmm? Oh!" He laughed nervously and scratched the back of his neck, unwittingly flexing his impressively defined chest, shoulder and arm. "It's a long story. I think it has something to do with my therapy?"

"Yeah?" Octavia said, her eyes wandering. "That's cool."

"Well, you see, I think what happened is–okay, going back to the start of the night, my friends and I were at the Azathoth Casino and we–"

Moonchild's continued to talk about… something, Octavia found his new voice pleasant to listen to, deep and smooth. And it was far from the only change for the better. His formerly lean, toned belly was now a small mountain range, bunching and rolling as Moonchild gesticulated, summarizing his infinitely less interesting night. Her eyes followed them down to his defined V-line, his trim waist and the shelf of his taut rump.

"…And when I retook control, I looked like this! I'll have to ask Charlie about it, but I think it has something to do with–Octavia? Via, are you alright?"

She blinked slowly, her eyes slowly making her way up to his. "M'sorry, wha?"

Moonchild sighed and rolled his eyes, taking the towel from his shoulders and holding it over his chest and belly. "Oh, Via! Not you, too!"

"What! I was just–" She blinked, cocking her head to the side. "What do you mean 'too'?"

"I don't need another set of eyes ogling me, thank you very much!" He said, making his way over to his dresser.

"I wasn't…" She said as he knelt down to grab a pair of pants from the dresser. "…Okay, well, who else is ogling you around here?"

Moonchild reached out and slammed his fist next to a vent on the wall, causing it to pop off and reveal a small, cycloptic demoness.

She smiled and giggled nervously. "Oh! Uh, I was just, uh, cleaning… the vent. I was cleaning the vent. Who's this, Moonie?"

"I'm Octavia," she said, confused. "And you are…?"

"I'm Niffty!" The little demoness chirped, crawling out of the vent. "I'm the maid!"

"And I'm too tired for this," Moonchild grumbled, uncharacteristically terse. "Please leave."

"Ugh! Fine!" Niffty skulked over to the door, turning around to leer at Moonchild. "Your girlfriend's a lucky gal!"

He pinched the bridge of his understated nose. "She's not my–whatever, just go."

Octavia watched her scuttle out the door and turned around to see Moonchild wriggling into a pair of pants that were now several sizes too small. She shook her head, actually thinking about the situation. "Wait… you're like this because of your therapy? How does that work?"

"I think it's a self-image thing," Moonchild said as he attempted to fit a much-too-small tanktop over his shoulders. "Like, I made progress towards becoming redeemed so I look different… or something? I don't know, it's something I need to talk to Charlie about."

His clothes were doing very little to preserve his modesty. "Uh-huh."

"Via, I swear to God, I'm going to get a bucket of cold water."

"Well, excuse me! This is all a little weird," Octavia said, throwing her hands in the air. "I don't see you for a few days and suddenly you, what, have a personal revelation and change your appearance?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it does seem a little… odd."

"'Odd', he says," said Octavia, sitting down on the bed. "And I wasn't ogling."

"Yeah, sure," he grunted before sighing, turning to her, a tired but warm smile on his face. "I'm sorry, it's been a long day and I'm really spent. It's good to see you, Octavia, really. I missed you."

When he smiled before, Moonchild was adorable. When he smiled now…

Octavia felt a blush burn in her cheeks as her heart hammered in her chest. "I-it's really good to look at you, Moonie. Uh! I mean, i-it's good to see you! Uh, to know you're okay. Like, with all this stuff going on and, uh, stuff."

"Well said," Moonchild yawned, sitting on the bed next to her. "So, what brings you out here?"

"Nothing, really," said Octavia, leaning back with a sigh. "Dad sent Mum and I to another estate for 'safety'. I was going a little stir-crazy and, well, I wanted to see you. Uh! To see my pal!"

Moonchild smiled and lay down on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. "Thanks, that means a lot. I've had an… interesting past few days. Seeing a familiar face really… makes me… feel…"

"Feel what?" Octavia turned to look at him, smiling softly when she saw him fast asleep. "Feel safe, I hope."

She pored over his face, serene and peaceful, and felt something warm and flush blossom in her chest. Was it pride? Relief? Her friend seemed to be doing well, his obvious physical changes notwithstanding, he seemed… confident? More assertive, certainly. Or maybe he'd just been too tired to put on his effacing mien. Either way, seeing him this way filled her with a curious flush of emotions; happy to see him make progress but also… apprehensive? The program seemed to be working, but also the program seemed to be working. If this kind of change was possible, might the other thing also be possible? Were her days with her friend numbered?

Her friend.

Her only real friend.

Octavia laid down next to him, careful not to wake him. She watched his full chest rise and fall, his breathing slow and calm. She felt her own eyes start to grow heavy, a yawn escaping her as she scooted a little closer.

"I'll worry about that later," she said, her eyes drifting shut. "Good night, Moonie…"

Before long she was fast asleep.