Alastor had given Clover a brief reprieve from his presence when they'd arrived at the hotel, instructing her to rejoin in two hours time in the library. The shadow welcomed her when she appeared just shy of the mark, twisting around her freshly showered form before disappearing between dusty bookcases. She'd barely sat down before the room filled with static, Clover turning her head towards the open doorway.

"I should have expected you would arrive early."

"Holy shi-" Clover nearly jumped out of her skin when his voice came from the darkness behind her, turning in her seat to face him. When he did not appear from the shadows, she pushed up from the high back chair she'd settled into. "Alastor?"

The static pulled her further into the room, her ears twisting as the sound's location shifted around her. She couldn't see anything, the light from the fireplace unable to reach far corners of the library, and the grit of dust beneath her fingers set her teeth on edge as she followed the shelves to their end. The bookshelves ended, and Clover shuffled into the blank space that extended beyond until her knees hit something solid. A creaking of floorboards behind her twisted her around once again, the slightly damp skin of her legs pressing against the leather of the armchair she'd run into. A soft sneeze flopped her ears into her face, Clover crying out into the darkness with a thud of her foot against the floor.

"Al, this really isn't funny!"

A sudden flickering of light filled the room, long shadows casting against the wall in a familiar shape.

"Apologies."

Alastor stood silhouetted by and obscuring the projected square of light that illuminated the far wall, the warm glow of his eyes following her as she moved towards him. Projected was an apt description, because as Clover leaned around Alastor's lean frame she found the source of the soft clicking that was accompanying the usual noise that followed the Radio Demon. She might have lingered on how his theatrics had stirred up the butterflies that lived in her stomach if not for her interest in what stood behind him.

It was an old film projector, rolling through the beginning blanks of a film reel. She assumed it was something actually used in a theater by its size alone, Clove having to stand on her toes to peer into the mechanics of the thing as it ran.

"Where did you find it?" Clover asked, turning to find him standing near her shoulder.

Alastor ignored her question, but she didn't mind. For the first time in what felt like days, Clover smiled, genuine and open as she circled the machine. An image began to play against the empty wall, the beginning to a film that she was surprised she recognized.

"Metropolis?"

"I believe you've mentioned an affinity for film before, one far beyond that of an average viewer." Alastor replied, taking her hand from where it had landed against the side of the machine and pulling her towards the circle of seats that faced the picture. "How do you feel about silent films?"

"I don't mind them at all, it's about the same as watching foreign films to me."

Alastor's smile grew wider as they stopped in front in the center of a long couch.

"I was hoping you would say that."

Music began as soon as he'd finished speaking, the familiar melody that accompanied that classic film. Alastor's radio filled the room, and her heart began to swell with fondness for the demon as he gestured for her to take a seat with a wave of his hand. Settling into the velvet of the couch, she tried her best to ignore the lack of space left between them as he sat beside her. Popcorn appeared with a flick of his wrist, Alastor holding out the classic red and white striped container towards her. She took it, distracting her trembling hands by quickly beginning to consume the movie snack as the film continued on.

It was hard to entirely pay attention to what was happening, and Clover was glad that she'd seen the film before. Once again, Alastor was weaving a confusing web around her. It was obvious that something had developed between them, or at least, she believed it was obvious. Her borderline obsession with the man aside, she could come to terms with the fact that Alastor showed her more interest than anyone else. There was no choice, she had to address that this, whatever it was, had turned into more than a simple friendship.

Whether Alastor saw it that way, well, that was another story entirely.

His aversion to physical intimacy aside, one of which seemed to not include hand holding , dancing and taking strolls arm-in-arm, she hadn't entirely figured out where Alastor stood romantically. He'd turned down Mimzy, he'd had nothing of note in his life on Earth, that much she knew, but the ease at which he seemed to fall into a pattern that she assumed could be called "courting" by more vintage demons raised too many questions. Was it another accidental quirk caused by his natural charm, or something more purposeful? Clover hated the thought of asking him almost as much as not knowing, her curiosity chewing at nerves. But, she'd given into her own urges already and given up control to Alastor. Her innocent infatuation had taken a swift dive into sensuality, there was no going back for her now. If their relationship, whatever it may be, could live through the drama she still felt bubbling beneath the surface, then she had faith that it could survive a little more time.

Faith was a funny word to use in hell, she thought.

"Is something funny?"

Her giggle at her inner monologue turned his head towards her, and Clover tried her best to hide that she'd been staring at his profile for who knows how long by shifting her position on the couch. Tucking her feet underneath her, Clover took her time settling to search for an excuse.

"No, I'm just thinking." She replied when she finished adjusting, holding the half-empty popcorn container towards him. He declined, but continued his questioning.

"I always thought that thinking was exactly the opposite of what one did while at the cinema."

Clover laughed, nearly choking on a piece of popcorn as she did but recovering quick enough to follow his banter without missing a beat.

"That's never been my experience, I usually have too much to say at the end, more than anyone would want to listen to."

"You really need to find better friends, my dear."

"Well, you haven't told me to shut up yet, so I think I've accomplished that."

His chuckle was half hearted as he reached into the popcorn bucket, picking out one single piece with his claws. He tossed it into his mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully before replying.

"I do have more manners than others in your life, or so I've gathered. But, talking is my career dear, it would be hypocritical of me to silence you."

Clover hummed, sinking further into the couch as the movie continued on. Eventually, she became so engrossed in the film that she lost track of herself. It was oddly calming, being alone with Alastor where she doubted anyone could find them. The thought would probably incite fear in anyone else, and for good reason. Sometimes she wondered if her mental state was just as unstable as it had been on Earth, slowly leaning into the arm of a known murder shouldn't feel this way, or at least she didn't think so.

The movie's accompaniment skipped, stuttering like a scratched CD before it died with a loud, mechanical whine. It attempted to right itself, Alastor flickering through stations so fast that he missed it twice before it fell back into place. That was all it took for Clover to realize exactly how comfortable she had gotten, and she scrambled to give him space. Somewhere in her cinema induced daze, she'd slid far enough to lean into his side. Her shoulder began to burn with his touch, the heat traveling up her neck to join the flush that covered her cheeks. He recovered before she could begin to apologize, her startled sputtering drowned out by the static.

Her heart stopped all over again when he draped an arm over the back of the couch, pulling her into his side with a sharp tug. Clover watched the stubborn clench of his jaw as he kept his eyes trained on the screen, her own moving over his face as she leaned into the embrace. His ears flicked anxiously, while her own laid flat against her head as she tucked it against his shoulder. Despite the fluttering that was occupying her stomach and turning her skin the color of his coat, Clover would take whatever she could get when it came from Alastor. Even as his touch grew more common, it still felt too special to take for granted, especially when it was retained for the entirety of the two hour film.

A pattern formed that night. Clover would go to work, Alastor would meet her in the library each night after dinner, and they would watch a film. Popcorn turned into cake and coffee, and then into bottles of wine. One night in particular a week later, after they'd grown tired of silent films and wandered into the era of talkies, the projector wasn't on when she arrived. Instead of the dark corner of the library that she was used to, she found it lit with the warm glow of the fringed tableside lamps that sat beside the velvet couch they'd been making indents in for a week. Alastor was sat at said couch when she arrived, but stood as soon as she'd crossed the threshold onto the area rug.

"What's going on?" Clover asked, setting her iced coffee on her claimed coaster on top of the wobbly side table.

Alastor turned to her, still staring down at the book he'd snapped shut upon her entrance before he held it towards her.

"I was going to return this to its proper place, until-"

She took the book from him, the same one she'd given him to borrow the day they'd rescued Angel from Valentino's strip club. The photos she'd left tucked inside sat on top of the cover, stacked alongside snapshots that had been taken before their date. Both of them, she noticed, including the candid photo she'd given him the option to dispose of.

"I assumed you would want those back, though I would ask that you take better care of them."

Clover nodded, shuffling through the photographs he'd given back to her for a moment. A moment that was entirely spent on admiring Alastor's physical attributes; warm eyes, dark hair and skin like coffee with cream.

"Does it bother you that I know what you looked like?" Her question seemed to startle him, Alastor turning from where he'd moved to assess the projector.

"...No."

"Does it bother you that you don't know what I looked like?"

Her first question had caught him off guard, but the second threw him off completely. Alastor stared at her for a long moment, his smile opening and closing as he thought. His ears flicked curiously, swirling around as the projector clicked to life. It was shut off again with a twist of his wrist, Alastor moving around the machine to stalk towards her as his confusion shifted into fondness.

"You and your questions, I'm surprised they haven't gotten you into greater trouble yet!"

Clover didn't feel like letting him swing her off course. Their relationship was built on a sense of trust and absolute fairness between them, and she intended to continue with that trend until the moment he decided to discard her. Tucking the photos into her back pocket before tossing the book onto the side table, she pressed on.

"That's not an answer."

Alastor blinked at her, stopping short at the edge of the area rug as his head tilted.

"...I will admit that your curiosity is catching, my dear." He spoke slowly, his eyes soft as he watched for a reaction.

She smiled, finalizing her decision and moving past him towards the hotel's hallways.

"Come with me."