HAPPY THANKSGIVING! Kicking off a shorter side story. I've just introduced the cop who caught Alastor in my fic Angels and Demons and have so much for their backstory I thought it would be easier to just make a different one instead of all the backstory. Just had a really fun L/Light (Death Note) kind of relationship for them in mind and couldn't resist diving in. Would love to know thoughts, especially since this is something that no one asked for but I decided to do anyways hahaha

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"...and this has been your pal Alastor, reminding you all to have a safe and fun Mardi Gras!"

The music played out as Alastor leaned back in his chair, taking off his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose.

"All clear! Great work as always," a voice came into the studio and he gave a thumbs up, putting his glasses back on and shooting a smile through the glass.

Nifty was already in the studio, stacking his paperwork and poking at buttons to shut everything down. Alastor instinctively moved his empty whisky glass from her deft fingers, reaching down to the bottle at his feet. If she noticed she said nothing. The prohibition was still in full swing but the station had made an exception for the Mardi Gras kick off. He refilled for the fourth time that night, standing carefully to be sure no one could see him off balance.

"Great job boss," she chirped, as she worked and he gave her a smile.

"You're moving a bit fast tonight," he said curiously. He took another sip and sucked his teeth at the bitter taste, still not used to it. "Even for you."

She paused and blushed, hugging the papers to her chest. "Well I actually might have...I might have plans?" She tucked her hair behind her ear shyly. He narrowed his eyes, sitting on the desk.

"Anyone I know?" he took on a teasing tone, but was now watching her closely.

"Umm...no...it's….he's in town for the parades," she didn't meet his eyes. "I met him when I was getting coffee this morning...didn't even know what chickpea coffee was…" She laughed uncomfortably, daring a glance at Alastor's intense gaze.

"Not a sailor-"

"No!" She looked aghast. "No he...said he was visiting a friend. In town for the week. He seemed sweet."

Alastor now noticed that she was dressed a little nicer than usual. More blush and…

"Are you wearing...lipstick?"

She was fully red now.

She sputtered under his intense watch and he finally threw his head back in a laugh. "Just give me a ring when you get in tonight so I know you made it?" He offered it with a playful wink but she felt herself swell at the care. Alastor had become a bit of a protector since their arrangement. And it didn't go without appreciation.

With a bottle in one hand and a full glass in the other he walked precariously out of the main studio and into the bustling office. Everyone had loosened ties and full glasses. An impromptu party for Nola.

Alastor loosened his own tie and tood a sip. In his buzz he couldn't help but feel a bit of pride. He was the face of the network now. Natalie and Husk wouldn't be going anywhere. Everything coming up Alastor. He felt a pang as his crimes weighed on him. There was blood on his hands mixed with the hard work. But it was fine. Worth it even. Right?

Just as he was about to take another drink, one of his producers came rushing to his side.

"Hey Al, just wanted to give you the heads up," he chuckled nervously, tugging at his color. "Looks like we've got a bit of a...visitor."

Alastor looked up again and saw everyone scrambling. Bottles being tucked away, glasses hidden, ties straightened.

And by the door, making a secretary very uncomfortable, stood the reason for it all. The man had a mop of dark hair that was desperate for a cut, bags under his eyes like he was going on a trip, an ill-fitting coat, and the most alert and vibrant eyes Alastor had ever seen. Even as the disheveled man spoke to the secretary his eyes darted around the room, searching.

For a moment they made eye contact and Alastor quickly made an attempt to slide the whisky bottle behind a typewriter on a nearby desk as he saw the man start to move toward him.

He would have been as tall as Alastor if he stood up straight, but had almost a hunch to his shoulders from the clear tension he carried. The only thing about him that seemed put together was the dazzling glint of the badge pinned to his weathered coat.

"Nick," he said, simply, holding out his hand. Alastor regarded him for a moment, not taking it.

"Detective?" He tested the waters.

"Oh, I suppose yes. Detective Davies," there was something boyish in the worn man's smile, as he dropped his hand. As if he had forgotten himself and couldn't be more amused. He tapped the badge. "Not used to not being undercover."

"I see," Alastor said slowly. "And how can we help you, detective?"

"Your Alastor." It wasn't a question. He needed confirmation.

"I am."

"It's quite the pleasure to meet you," the detective tucked his hands back into his pockets and rolled on the balls of his feet, his eyes warm. "Big fan actually. Used to hate always having the radio on at the station, blasted noise coming through all the time, but you're actually pretty entertaining."

Alastor kept his caution but flashed him a winning smile. "Not often I'm recognized by my face and not my voice," he gave a hearty laugh now reaching out his own hand for a shake. The detective took it, quickly, before his hand skirted back to his pocket.

"Well I'm sure you're here about the little party," Alastor continued, tossing an arm over the man's shoulder and leading him to the poorly hidden alcohol. "Just a little discretion, thought we'd treat the staff, build morale. But of course it'll be gone before you can say cat's pajamas and I'm more than happy to see what I can do to brush this under the rug my good man."

The detective smiled quietly and let himself be led to the bottles poking out behind folders. Nick didn't say a word as he grabbed one and an empty glass and filled it, downing it quickly.

Alastor raised an eyebrow at this. "Of course you're welcome to join," he encouraged, suddenly very amused.

The detective gave a breathy laugh as he refilled.

"Everyone in New Orleans will be drinking tonight," the detective said, dissmissivly. "It's a holiday and we're not too concerned as long as they at least try to keep it under their hats."

He gave Alastor a crooked smile. "Too much paperwork for a few minor things, you understand. Bit of a Nola gift from us to the city."

Alastor smirked and moved to refill his glass. "Yes," Alastor sighed. "Especially with bigger fish to fry...the murders. Terrible thing, something like that." His eyes flickered up to the detective, gauging him. The detective was still smiling, eyes still dancing, but there was something that unsettled the radio host. It wasn't the kind of playful of a child sneaking a drink...it was cat who had seen a mouse. "Part of why we did this little party. Rather keep the staff safe here than risk….you know."

Alastor did his best to seem concerned, but could feel himself want to squirm at the Detective's amused smile. The man said nothing. Just stared.

Alastor felt his nerves start to build, but he smiled all the same. "Two men, and that poor girl. Absolutely tragic. I know they're saying the girl isn't confirmed to be connected but...what are the odds? And just the thought of an axe to the skull," Alastor shivered dramatically, pouring another drink of his own, the glass behind the type writer forgotten. "It's all just so-"

"An axe?" The Detective's eyes glittered. Alastor felt his blood run cold. Shit.

"Well that's the rumor isn't it anyways?" He spoke quickly, suddenly feeling his ears grow hot. Was the axe part released to the public? "Of course the papers, they don't say much, but a friend of mine said his landlady's cousin lived next door and saw them carry the body out, the damned thing still wedged in his head. Dreadful."

He watched carefully. But Nick's face betrayed nothing. The two men stared at each other and Alastor felt he couldn't hold his resolve much longer.

"So what CAN we help you with," Alastor asked, handing back the drink and taking care to not let his hands shake as he did so.

"The murders," Nick's voice was light, airy. As if he was delivering a friendly greeting instead of what Alastor had feared. "I wanted to let you know that you're a suspect. It's a wild night, so I wanted to let you know now in case...our killer decides to take advantage of the atmosphere. We were afraid the Ripper might think it would be an easy night."

Alastor gave a bark of a laugh, his mind already turning. "I suppose I'm not allowed to ask what connection I have to this?"

The detective hummed and tapped a finger on his glass, "You don't have any inclination?"

"Not a one," Alastor said, dramatically tapping his head. "I'll be honest with you detective to save you the time. Both my parents are passed, no family really, and I'm afraid I don't have much outside of work acquaintances. Bit buried in the radio but that's a man's passion, eh?" The detective just held his gaze with those glittering eyes. Alastor tried not to falter. "But of course I'm happy to answer any questions, give you any alibis, I'm normally either here or home so I'm sure we can get this sorted out quickly. Let me know what you need to move on. The sooner you catch your guy the sooner I can stop worrying about my staff. You need anything put out over the signals, I'm your guy for that as well."

The detective finally laughed, breathy and airy, breaking his intense gaze to fiddle with his badge.

"You have made my job quite easy," he said softly. "This was more of a routine check. Retracing steps to see if there was any connection to the old owner."

Alastor felt his heart speed up, and sipped his drink. Confused.

"I thought you said I was a suspect?"

"You weren't," the detective said, smirking. "But now you've displayed unreleased knowledge of the crime scene and have very clearly displayed how much you match the loner profile we have on the killer."

The detective threw back his glass, wincing again. "You are quite the talker aren't you…"

Alastor's face went red and he forced a laugh, looking down into his glass. "Yes well my mother always said that gossip was the Devil's language. I suppose I can see where I've made myself suspicious. Silly thing, I always get loquacious talking to officials. I'm happy to come down to the station whenever to get this sorted out."

The detective nodded. "At some point perhaps. But I'll be around." He handed the glass to Alastor and gave him a wink before putting his hands back into his pockets and trudging towards the door.

Alastor suddenly realized the grip he had on his own glass and relaxed his hold. His heart pounded. Idiot, he chastised himself. He tossed back the drink, his mind turning. Now with a dog on his scent he'd need a way to throw him off the trail.