Chapter 22
Smoky Aroma
First thing in the morning has never been Eliza's time to shine, and her lack of sleep only aggravated this regrettable fact. More often than not, her professionalism would override a natural inclination to bite off the head of the nearest individual, and she used this often to contain herself. Today, however, there were no sessions scheduled, and she was not so inclined to take walk-ins. Perhaps, for the first time since her arrival in Hell, she would make use of the 'Do Not Disturb' sign.
But not before a long, hot-to-cold shower to shock herself out of this quarrelsome attitude, not to mention the sleepy fog that made focusing on the simplest task nearly impossible. She couldn't even seem to be able to make a damn cup of tea without spilling water all over the place, and it was an honest temptation to just throw the cup at the wall.
Sighing heavily, she walked into the bathroom and shut the door, needing to make herself mentally presentable before doing anything. She didn't need anyone seeing her this way; she was a professional for pity's sake!
Meanwhile, Alastor had his shadowy servant place radios in every room, occupied or otherwise, without any prior announcement or permission from Charlie. He wanted to surprise the guests with music to start their day; partly to share some class with the rabble, mostly to assert his dominance. Of course, Husk and Niffty wouldn't be at all surprised, since they had their own already. Still, there were two radios he wanted to deliver personally.
One was, surprisingly even to him, Angel Dust. This was partially because he wanted to annoy the spider by waking him up early, knowing full well he slept until noon most days. Another reason was that, after seeing the porn star return from work in rough shape many times, he felt a strange sort of feeling akin to pity, which is rather unusual for the Radio Demon. He has lightened up his harsh mockery of the young man considerably, though he still found his ability to turn anything perverted intolerable.
The final reason (and possibly the most prominent) is that, if his shadow entered the spider's room, the memory of the experience would be shared. If there was one room in the entire hotel that intimidated him, it was Angel Dust's. He knew there were likely many things in there he did not wish to see, and as such he would rather it be perceived as a gift than to have his servant sneak it inside and wish he could claw his eyes out afterwards.
The other individual who would receive their radio in person was, of course, Eliza. Having already been in her room once or twice, he was fairly confident that there was nothing in there that would make his skin crawl, aside from her lack of nighttime attire. But that's why one knocks before entering!
Because Angel's room was on the way, he stopped by there first and knocked. It took a few tries before he finally heard a groan on the other side, and another before hearing an amusingly annoyed response.
"Vaggie, Charlie, I swear ta Christ if ya found another bag o' shit lyin' around, it ain't mine! Gimme some credit for fuck's sake. If I were still sneakin' shit into the hotel, I'd have enough goddamned sense ta be discreet!"
"Discretion is hardly your strong suit, my deviant fellow," Alastor called. A moment of silence was followed by some quiet but still quite audible swearing. When the door finally opened, he was met in the fashion he expected: Angel Dust in PJ's, high heels and no make-up, leaning against the door with half-lidded fuck-me eyes.
"About time ya came around, Smiles," he murmured, fondling his own ass in a way that put Alastor instantly on edge. "Was it my flawless dance that finally won ya over?"
Alastor scoffed. "I could barely watch your repulsive spectacle."
"Still means you watched some of it," Angel countered, making static run between Alastor's ears.
"Only the one or two parts that required skill."
"Ouch, Smiles," Angel chuckled, "that stings worse than a foot-long-"
"Anyways," Alastor interrupted, unsure where exactly he was going with that comment but very sure he didn't want to know, "I came by to offer you a small token to bring some semblance of sophistication to your den of depravity." He practically shoved the radio into the spider's hands in hopes that he would just take the gift and leave.
Angel looked a bit shocked as he studied the old, small radio the overlord gave him. "Huh… You handin' these out ta everyone?"
"Everyone is getting one," he confirmed, "but I'm not giving them all out in person, if that's what you mean."
Blinking at the deer-demon who, under normal circumstances, could barely stand being in the same room as him, he smiled. Much to Alastor's surprise (and great relief), it was not a seductive one. "Wow, that's… that's real sweet of ya, thanks."
"Don't mention it," Alastor replied, visibly calming from his previous panic. "Every station is available, including my own."
Angel suddenly looked a bit embarrassed. "Husk warned me that I'd regret tunin' in ta yours… At least durin' yer time off. What, uh… Ya got tunes or somethin'?"
"My station plays most forms of Jazz and many old classics."
"Sweet!" Angel cheered, "I fuckin' love that shit!" Surprised by how well the spider took to his gift, Alastor felt a little flattered. Angel put the small device under one arm, then looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. "Hey, I know yer kinda prudish an' shit, but as an Italian I can't just let ya leave without at least invitin' ya in, 'specially with a gift involved. Ya wanna risk it?" He motioned with a thumb to the space behind him, and Alastor felt his very soul recoil.
"N-no, thank you," he politely declined, bristling at the mere notion of crossing the threshold. "It's a kind offer, but I simply can't."
"Yea, I figured," Angel shrugged. "Still, doesn't hurt ta try." He turned around to take the radio in and turn it on, but stopped and looked behind him as he closed the door. "Seriously though… It's weird gettin' a gift from someone who ain't a fan, an' that kinda makes it special, so… thanks." After another moment of hesitation, he closed the door behind him, leaving Alastor standing there in confusion. Had Angel Dust just displayed genuine gratitude? To him? After nearly a century as a heavily feared overlord of Hell, he could really enjoy appreciation that wasn't drenched in pathetic simpering, especially from someone he treats rather poorly.
Just for that, Alastor decided to give Angel an extra little bonus. He waved his hand at the door before sharply turning to walk down the hall, but not before hearing the spider shout out in surprise, "Holy shit, it turned pink!"
Humming as he made his way to Eliza's door, he summoned the other radio into one hand and knocked with the other. "Good morning, my dear!" When all he heard was silence, he cocked an eyebrow. Unlike Angel's room, the suites at the end have the bedroom off to the side to make for a larger living-space. Perhaps she couldn't hear him. He wanted to announce himself and walk in, but a slight twinge of trepidation made him hesitate. If he caught her unawares, he might see her…
But he didn't want to wait to find out about Saturday night.
"I-" He cleared his throat when his voice faltered. "I'm coming in, my dear. I hope you're presentable!" With that, he turned the knob only to find that it was locked. Summoning his copy of Charlie's skeleton key (something he felt no obligation to share details about with the young lady), he put it in the lock and opened the door, finding the living area to be thankfully empty.
Then he heard the telltale sound of running water, and felt his inner signal scramble. Oh blazes, she's taking a shower! Even seeing her come out wrapped in a towel would be extremely uncomfortable for him. Certainly explains why she didn't hear him, though.
He decided a strategic retreat was in order, but still wanted to leave the gift in the room somewhere. Considering whether he wanted to go the proper route of leaving a note or letting her ponder it's sudden, unexplained appearance, he nearly jumped out of his suit when the sound of screaming was heard. Looking at the nearest chair in alarm, he breathed out a sigh of relief when it was just her portable telephone, which he believed was called a hellphone. Hell's only available ring-tone was quite surprising at times, and it certainly caught him off guard. He wasn't accustomed to the strange little devices, as his own was a plug-in dial phone. It was the only sort of long-distance communication he permitted in any residence of his, permanent or otherwise.
Though, admittedly, that obnoxious sound was the least of what was apparently going to put him on edge today. Deciding to take a closer look at the infernal device, his eye twitched as his lips pulled back into a snarl upon seeing the caller's identity.
Vox.
Even after the call ended and the screen went black, Alastor glared down furiously at the blasted thing. He bristled further as something called a 'Voice Mail' was left. While unfamiliar with technological terms, he wasn't stupid; 'voice' implied some form of audio, and any man from his time period was familiar with 'mail'. Perhaps it was some form of audio telegram; a message left for those who failed to answer, meaning that despite missing his phone call, she could still know what he was calling about. What was that worthless sham of a glory-hogging box of mind-melting drivel doing contacting his friend?
"Alastor?"
His head snapped up upon hearing his name, and between every strange occurrence happening today, he wondered if it was possible to die of shock and embarrassment in Hell. The phone-call had distracted him enough to make him miss the moment she shut off the water, and apparently she was still unaware of having company. Not only was she dripping wet, but she hadn't even bothered to wrap herself in a towel. Top it all off with the fact that she made absolutely no move to cover up or otherwise hide herself from view (mostly because her feminine parts were hidden, though in his shock he failed to notice that small blessing), and Alastor's nerves were on fire.
"Gracious, woman!" he yelled, averting his gaze and blocking her from view with his hand. "At least have the decency to-"
"I left my towel in the bedroom," she interrupted with a yawn. "Besides, my door was locked. Why are you in here?"
His face flushed when he realized she was right; he was the intruder here. She had taken the necessary precautions to avoid this situation. Damn that phone call for distracting him from leaving. As an apology, he summoned a black towel, which draped itself over his forearm as he held it out in her direction. "P-please cover up, my dear…"
She hesitated for a moment, and his inner radio was scrambling to recover. When she finally took the towel and wrapped it around her body, he felt like he could breathe again. "You butcher people all the time, right?"
"Excuse me?"
"When you kill someone, you butcher them," she stated, forgoing the question entirely. "I can't imagine you've never seen someone naked in that case. It's just a body-"
"My victims remained clothed until their body isn't whole enough to maintain their coverings," he snapped. "And I only slaughter men, my dear. Any woman I kill is a matter of self-preservation, and I certainly allow them to maintain their dignity!" Now that she was at least partially covered, he chanced a glance at her and blinked. Her eyes looked sunken in, and the bags under them were almost black against her white scales. "You look… Are you well?"
She yawned again, and he watched as she seemed a little unsteady on her feet. "I haven't been sleeping well, and last night was the worst of it."
"Is that why you can remain so relaxed despite your current state of undress?"
The glare she gave him was the most exhausted look of exasperation he'd ever seen. "I'm this way normally. Nudity doesn't bother me at all. Like I said; it's just a body. Everyone has one, and despite different proportions, they all follow basically the same pattern with all the same parts. Well, mostly the same. Down here that rule kind of shifts, I guess."
Listening to her nonchalant explanation, he couldn't help but relax slightly. She wasn't doing it to make him uncomfortable; in fact, she seemed to not understand why he felt so awkward about it all. "I see," was his only response. Between the strange conversation with Angel, the distressing confrontation with Eliza in the nude and the surprising phone-call…
"Is that a radio?"
He turned his head and looked at the device for a moment, forgetting briefly that it was the whole reason he had come here in the first place. Well, that and to have a chat about Saturday, but… "Yes!" he answered, his voice more shrill than he would have liked. "I wanted to give you this in person. When you didn't answer, I decided to come in and leave it for you. I planned to leave it here once I heard the shower running, but I was… distracted."
"Distracted by what?"
He considered his next move carefully for a moment. Either he could lie and find a way to obtain the truth about Vox's association with her by stealing her phone and enlisting the aid of a reliable outside source, or he could approach the issue directly and risk her deceiving him. Despite her love of honesty, surely she would default to the safety of a convincing falsehood to protect herself. Most everyone does.
But if she were like everyone else, he wouldn't find her so interesting.
"Your phone."
She blinked and looked at the small device sitting on the back of her comfy chair, which was rather close to him. "Ah, that would do it. The ringtone down here is absolutely obnoxious, and without a vibrate option you just have to deal with it. Appropriate for a land of punishment, I guess."
"The sound was shocking, but what was more alarming was the person contacting you."
Now a look of realization sparked in her eyes. "It was Vox, wasn't it?"
Alastor was tempted to approach her, but her still mostly exposed body kept him repelled, at least for now. "Why are you in contact with that filthy piece of overpolished scrap?"
Both of her eyebrows raised in surprise. She knew he had no love for the TV Demon, but even his insults toward Fizz weren't so overtly bitter. "He and I go out together on occasion."
Alastor wasn't sure which was more shocking; the fact that she spent time with his rival without telling him, or how apathetic she was towards the rivalry entirely. The information was shared so casually, as though reporting something utterly trivial.
"Why?" Static overtook his voice as he finally found the nerve to take an intimidating step forward. The air around him seemed to distort as his anger fluctuated.
Eliza's head recoiled slightly, and her posture straightened. "Approach me with that tone again, and I'll simply mention how little of your business it truly is and drop the subject entirely."
"It's my business when my rival becomes involved in my affairs."
Narrowing her eyes, Eliza stood her ground. "I'm not one of your 'affairs', Alastor. My time with him is purely personal and has nothing to do with the hotel, therefore it has nothing to do with you." When he opened his mouth to argue, she cut him off by adding, "And there is no law that says that all my friends need to get along. I have no problem with you two hating each other. Otherwise I wouldn't be able to be friends with both you and Fizz."
"Fizz is a loud-mouthed degenerate that I tolerate because of his work for the hotel," he growled. "Vox is a piece of glamorized debris who wants me dead. That is a sizable difference, wouldn't you agree?"
She shrugged. "That's between you two. Personally, when we go out and talk, he hasn't once brought you up."
"Are you truly naive enough to believe that means he has no ulterior motive?"
Her eye twitched as her patience waned, though it was rather thin to start. "I'm fully aware of the possibility."
He tilted his head to the side. "Then why would you debase yourself with his repulsive presence if you know of this?"
'Well,' Id cooed, 'if you'd just give me some special attention, I wouldn't have to go see your rival for it, now would I?'
Eliza dropped her shoulders slightly as she forced the thought out of her head. It was tempting to mention that Vox took care of a somewhat romantic side of her that Alastor would unknowingly drag to the surface on occasion, but somehow dropping that on him felt highly inappropriate as well as manipulative. It wasn't his fault she felt this way, as he clearly had no interest in her as anything more than a conversational companion, so to try and take advantage of his more competitive side by playing him against his rival felt both cheap and insulting.
Yea, she didn't feel like becoming her father today.
"Alastor," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she decided to take a different route, "most people believe the same of you." He flinched at the comparison. "In fact, I also have no greater reason to believe that your friendliness towards me is anything more than a ploy, but I choose to do so because you've given me no reason to think otherwise, and until you do, I'm not going to judge you for something you might do in the future. Don't ask me to do that for someone else, please."
Alastor studied her face carefully, noting every change that transpired. Perhaps it was how utterly exhausted she seemed, but he caught something in her features that put him on alert; she was holding something back. There was a detail she was leaving out, something important enough for her body to betray.
"What are you keeping from me?" He couldn't help but admire her ability to hold back an involuntary impulse, because she remained perfectly still as he walked up to her.
"Nothing worth mentioning, or I would have said it already."
Her defensive response encouraged him, as it meant she wasn't disengaging emotionally just yet. If she put up her icy mask, he'd lose this chance at answers. Tempted to close the gap between them to prevent her escape, he stood directly before her and tilted his head down to view her face more clearly, forcing her to look up at him to maintain his gaze. If it weren't for her no-touch rule, not to mention the lack of clothes, he would have held her chin up with the flat side of his claw to keep her from looking away. "Don't be so sure of that, my dear. Every detail could prove very, very useful. There's something he's doing that you like, or else you wouldn't humor his manipulations, now would you? You certainly aren't afraid to pull back when I do something upsetting, so there must be something keeping you there. Tell me; what is it?"
Despite her downright stoic resistance to his pressure, he felt something promising; heat. Warm air grazed against his face. Even his clothes began to feel downright toasty in such close proximity, and his nostrils tingled from the sheer strength and depth of the smoky odor it carried with it. He felt somewhat victorious at successfully drawing out such a reaction once again. It must be a threat response; something to intimidate individuals who attempt to cause her harm, or have the potential to do so.
But then his body started to respond in a way that made him question this theory, or at least he would have if he could have formed a coherent thought on the matter.
Feeling as though his mind was numbing from the blissful aroma of rich charcoal and raging fire, he let his nose guide his face down close to hers.
Eliza froze from the unexpected action; for him to get so intimately close to her was nothing short of astonishing. "Alastor, what are- Mmf!"
Covering her mouth with his palm, he leaned into her neck and rubbed his face against her scales, salivating shamelessly. He knew his antlers were growing by the scratching noise they made against her wall, leaving score marks wherever they touched. It gave him a strange, almost feral sense of pride, leaving his mark in such a way, and he growled as pleasant sensations traveled through his body.
"Tell me, what can he give you that I can not?" he asked, quietly. "I have the power to give you whatever you wish; he is irrelevant, yet you insist on being permitted to see him. Why?"
Despite wanting to tell him she didn't need his permission, his palm was still firmly pressed into her mouth. About ready to panic, she put a hand on his suit-coat in the hopes that her touch would make him recoil, but he didn't even seem to notice. Knowing full well she wasn't strong enough to push him away on her own (but still giving it an honest effort regardless), she desperately tried to call on her wings for help, but Id was just sitting back and watching the show with no inclination to assist, at least not yet. She knew she was attracted to him, but he wasn't acting normal. He's not OK, and she did not feel safe with him behaving this way.
What's going on?!
Trying and failing to get a grip on his senses as a bizarre hunger took hold of him, Alastor's mind shifted to something darker; something he was far more familiar and comfortable with. "You smell so divine," he panted, growling like a starving beast finding its first meal in days. "Your blood… I simply must..." All attempts to focus on gaining information died, overridden by impulse as his mind became entranced without his permission. The effects of her scent were so unexpected and so strong that he never even stood a chance at defending himself. He practically polished his teeth against her jugular as what remained of his restraint lost the battle with predatory instinct. "Oh Cher, you are exquisite!"
Viper!
Before he could strike, a large black hand palmed his face, pushing him away with enough force to send him flying into the opposite wall. The radio fell to the floor and broke apart from the impact, and he made a strangled noise of surprise before sliding down the wall, dizzy and holding his head as a pounding sensation comparable to a hangover threatened to crack his skull in half. He felt his antlers shrink back to normal size as he tried to regain control over himself.
When he finally found the strength to look up once more, he briefly forgot how to breathe as the normally pure-white demoness shifted to charcoal black. Clutching the towel for what little security it provided, her normally petite little fingers were replaced by large, shining claws at the end of elongated bestial limbs, and her talon-like toes were flared outward. The wing that assaulted him was still stretched out in front of her, while the other flexed its digits in anticipation. The wing-membranes traveled down the length of her body and thinned out until reaching the tip of a long black tail, which stopped just short of reaching the floor.
Inverted eyes glared down at him, her normally thinly-slitted pupils wide and unnaturally bright. Fine facial features were stretched into a monstrous snout, sharp teeth and protruding fangs disrupting her usually peaceful visage. Struggling to breathe past the powerful combination of exhaustion and fear, Eliza's body seemed to be venting heat at an alarming rate. However, as Alastor's senses returned to him, he realized there was a key difference between this heat and his previous encounters:
The aroma that had bewitched him was entirely absent, as though it had never existed.
"Well," he chuckled awkwardly, slowly rising to his feet, "that was certainly... unusual!"
"UNUSUAL?!" she roared, the sheer volume of her voice capturing his attention. The typical hollow echo that came with her wrath was missing, instead replaced with a rougher edge that he had never heard her use before. "Is that the best word you could think of to describe what the fuck you just tried to do?!"
"My dear, I'm not going to-"
"Get out."
His ears flattened as he fought to explain himself, though truly he wasn't sure what to say. "Please, my dear, I don't-"
Squatting down on all fours, she commanded once more, "Get. The. Fuck. OUT!" The next thing he knew, he had an angry dragoness launching herself at him with her fangs barred and claws outstretched. Dodging the initial assault, he whirled around to take one last look at her before vanishing into thin air, no trace of him remaining.
Suddenly Charlie and Vaggie burst into her room. "Eliza! Is everything- Eep!" Charlie flinched away from her as she noticed what the therapist had become, and Vaggie immediately looked around the room, noting the scratch marks on the wall before glaring down at the broken remains of Alastor's radio at Eliza's feet.
"Ese bastardo!" she growled, stabbing her spear through the device for good measure. "What the fuck did Alastor do?!"
"Alastor?" Charlie asked, looking between the radio and the raging dragoness. "Did something happen with Alastor?"
Eliza, however, was not in the mood to explain a damn thing. Growling menacingly, she kept her eyes on the two of them but made no move to do anything.
Charlie held up her hands in a placating manner. "We just want to help…"
She sounded so sincere that the therapist stopped growling, but she didn't calm down otherwise. "Then talk to me tomorrow. Right now, I want to be alone."
Vaggie stepped forward. "I get that, but we need to know what he-"
"Tomorrow!" she snapped. The moth flinched, but then she just collected her spear and walked out, dragging a resistant Charlie along behind her and closing the door. Eliza took a deep, almost painful breath as she looked around the empty space. The fact that Alastor could teleport back at any time kept her on edge, but she spared a short, mournful glance at the broken radio.
She didn't even bother changing from her four-limbed method of travel, as it felt strangely comfortable in this form. She stared down at the towel, which she dropped when she went to attack her friend (was he still a friend right now?), and threw it towards the radio. Let every reminder of him just stay in one pile until she figures out what to do about it all.
Crawling into bed, she looked at her limbs and decided to try something new; spinning in a circle and laying down like a cat. Not only did it work, but it felt spectacularly cozy as she lay there to think. For some reason, no matter how hard she tried, she simply couldn't revert back to her normal form; at least not right now. Perhaps she was still too on edge from Alastor's surprising assault.
The more she thought of it, the more it struck her how very uncharacteristic the attack had been. Sure, he was a cannibal, but he had never made a move on her like that before. In fact, a line he shared with her some time ago swirled around in her head:
'I take good care of things I like. That includes people, you know!'
The statement had been in reference to her, meaning he liked her in whatever capacity he was capable of. So why? Why did he try to eat her all of a sudden? There was no warning, nor any finesse in his approach. In fact, it was blatantly out of nowhere. Information on Vox had been the topic before he shifted gears, and there was absolutely no segue between 'Why are you seeing him?' and 'I want to devour you.'
Then afterwards, he tried to say something, but she had been too angry and too hurt to listen.
Part of her wanted to go downstairs and sing; something she's been doing a little every day since Sunday, just to vent some frustration. However, her desire to not see another soul for the rest of the day was far stronger, and so she stayed curled up on her bed, desperately tired as sleep seemed to abandon her completely.
She didn't even venture out to check her phone and see if Vox left a message; he could fucking wait.
For the first time in years, she felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she hated herself for them. This was why she avoided friendships in life; why she didn't really spend time around people. The worst part was that she had been so sure he wouldn't do something like this. Being with him felt so… safe, somehow.
She wasn't sure if it was because she was coming down from an adrenaline rush or if she was just that hurt by his actions, but she felt like he just made an absolute fool out of her.
"But Vaggie, we need to-" Charlie began as her girlfriend closed the door to Eliza's room.
"No," she replied, curtly. "She needs to be alone right now."
"But she looked so scared…" Charlie fretted. "Wouldn't it be best if someone stayed with her until she calmed down?"
Vaggie shifted her gaze to the floor for a moment. When she had seen the therapist, she recognized that look; a look of a woman who felt utterly violated. She had felt that way many times in life, and the only thing that made it better…
"She needs time." The moth put a hand on the princess' shoulder. "Just trust me on this one, hon: there is nothing we can say or do to make this better, and hanging around will just make it worse. However," she held up her spear and started marching down the hall to the stairwell, "I'm going to have a talk with that pompous bastard."
"I'm coming, too!" Charlie called, running to catch up with her. "I… I want to know what happened. Maybe it's not as bad as we think."
Vaggie didn't even glance at her. No matter what her optimistic lover said, she wouldn't be convinced until she interrogated Alastor for every drop of information.
Pacing around his office, Alastor felt extremely agitated. Unlike the last time he sampled that dangerous aroma, he had absolutely no appetite whatsoever. No, if anything his skin was crawling, and the temptation to claw the flesh from his face was borderline maddening. He recalled nuzzling her neck, breathing in her scent like a man gone mad, and he just felt nauseous. Had the experience been consensual on either part, perhaps he could at least stomach the memory, but as it was he simply felt repulsed by the mere thought of what almost transpired.
He knew what happened, however; he wasn't a fool. Had he been in control of his senses, he would never have permitted such an affront to his nature. Not only did he assault a woman, something of which has resulted in the death of many a sinner in Hell whenever he was near enough to witness the deed, but he almost ate someone he regarded as a friend. He made it a point to never so much as taste any he called a companion, and yet he came so close to giving in to his predatory nature. That aroma was a dangerous weapon, and one that, likely, she had no control over, just like the rest of her strange abilities.
Oh, Hell was truly a place of punishment for her. A woman of such impressive restraint given a body that rebels against her at every turn, desperately trying to express the desires buried within. Had she drugged his mind to throw him off the scent of her relationship with his rival; a simple case of reacting to being backed into a corner? Or perhaps the circumstances had awakened a more base need that he was yet unaware of?
Still, he was sure she would understand, if she would permit him near enough to explain his actions. Admittedly, he would not blame her if she wished to keep a sizable distance between them for a while, which may also not be a terrible idea. As much as he adored her company, this posed quite a challenge for them, especially given how particularly potent the effects of that wonderfully dangerous aroma were.
Then a thought occurred to him that made him stop pacing entirely. Did she react this way to Vox as well? Has he sampled that treacherous odor? Surely she was a woman of better taste, despite her strange fascinations with perversion, or her appreciation for dark and terrifying things. What could she possibly desire from that cultish box of cheap glass? Surely if it were monetary gain, she would have asked to be paid for her work here by now; admittedly something that should be addressed, now that he thought of it.
He knew he needed answers, but for now he knew also that he's lost the ability to approach her. No, he needed to work behind the scenes, and quickly. Whenever she would come around, he would be sure to give her space, but he didn't want to fall completely out of contact. Obviously there would be no writing sessions for a while; a fact that made him feel rather disappointed. Unless he could make her comfortable in his presence again, such things were simply unfeasible for the time being, and the thought was somewhat sobering.
Then a plan formed in his mind, and he walked over to his desk. There was yet another method of communication that required neither close proximity nor spoken word: letters. While common in his day, Eliza mentioned how writing letters was somewhat novel in the modern age, as technology has started nullifying such things along with the fancy penmanship he tutored her in. Perhaps such an antiquated technique would help her to recover her nerve, and also allow her to continue practicing her writing at a much more comfortable distance.
Not to mention it would ease his own discomfort from possibly ruining a friendship he was coming to really enjoy.
Before he could even begin, however…
"Alright, shit-lord!" Vaggie called from the other side of the door. It was locked, and even Charlie's skeleton key couldn't open it, which only pissed her off more. "I know you're in there, and you better have a fucking stellar explanation for what you did to Eliza."
Alastor groaned and face-palmed, his expression the absolute essence of irritation. "Oh applesauce…"
Charlie added after a moment of silence, "Please, Alastor. She… she was so scared. She wouldn't even talk to us. Just tell us what happened, OK? Please!"
That statement felt like a thorn in his chest. Scared. They must have entered her room shortly after his abrupt departure, while she was still in a frenzy. And it had nothing to do with his reputation, nor the way he treated others. He tried to hurt her.
'I'm not going to judge you for something you might do in the future.'
Well, he certainly wasted no time giving her a reason to judge him, now did he?
Sighing in defeat, he put away his pen and paper and flicked his wrist, summoning his shadow to his side. The servant gazed down at him in concern, seeing the absolute exhaustion on his master's face as he wiped a clawed hand down his features. "I suppose I simply must address their concerns, mustn't I?" The servant motioned that perhaps Alastor should blow them off, but the Radio Demon chuckled tiredly. "Oh, if only I could. However, should I do so, I'm likely to find myself removed as Charlie's business partner, and I'm far from done with this place. Besides, I'm sure I could make her understand the situation. Her little girlfriend, however… Will be much harder to persuade."
When the shadow pointed at his brandy, Alastor shook his head. Then his servant motioned towards the scotch higher up, and Alastor conceded that, perhaps, it was wise to have a strong drink before attempting to salvage his partnership with Hell's princess. Oh, how miserable this day was shaping up to be.
