Author's Notes:

That got done quickly. Holy shit.


Chapter 43

Friend or Property, Never Both

If Eliza wasn't certain it was impossible, she might believe that her inner voices were about to murder each other as they argued over her next course of action.

"We can not give him our soul!" Superego insisted, vehemently.

"Alright, I refer you back to 'why the hell not?'," Id countered. "He's already proven that he's willing to work to get us back; if he's offering protection, I vote we take it and run with it!"

Superego looked about ready to tear her hair out as she shouted, "Are you just forgetting the part where we belong to him?"

Id just shrugged. "No different than getting married."

"That's a mutual state of belonging to each other. There is a big difference!"

"Bullshit, there is!"

Night after night there were endless debates and stalemates as the two voices seemed to switch sides from their original stakes on having a relationship with Alastor. Id, originally against any and all romantic pursuits with the wendigo, had no problem with a formal arrangement, whereas Superego could not be moved from her position against it. They went over the possibility that this was all planned from the start, how Vox might have forced him to make a move sooner than he intended, and the idea that everything he's ever done with Eliza has been an elaborate scheme to get her comfortable enough to sign her soul away.

It wasn't until the night before his return that they finally started planning what to do.

"Alright," Id began, "we've gotta plan for all scenarios here."

"Probably for the best," Superego conceded, though she was rather reluctant to give up the argument just yet. "First scenario; we sign the contract and he owns us. What's the outcome?"

"Well, he'll be over the fucking moon," Id mentioned. "But no matter what he tries to do, it's gonna kill the friendship we've got with the guy. Dad always made us feel less like a who and more like a what. There's no way that's not going to affect us now."

"He did make it sound like we'll be more of a tool than anything," Superego agreed. "Perhaps we should address that with him before making our final decision."

"Nah, he's gotta be aware. The guy said he wanted our skills and our power; he didn't mention wanting anything else, so all in all I think signing off on it will end rather well. I doubt he'll care in the end if the friendship dies off. Not like he's known for getting bored or anything." Then, Id snapped her fingers as an idea came to mind. "Wait, I've got it! We can make a change to the contract! It'll save the relationship from slowly dissolving by simply stating, 'hey, it's over, but we're cool!' No drama or fuss, just a clean cut and it's over!"

Superego nodded, slowly. "It would probably be for the best, but that's if we decide to sign."

"Let's make the change no matter what," Id suggested. "That way we see what his response is. It might change our mind at the last second, kind of like what happened with Vox."

"An excellent point. Very well, we'll make the change. Now, what should be the plan for the second scenario; not signing the contract?"

"Depends on how he handles it," Id mused, thoughtfully. "Guy might throw a fucking fit, or he might be chill."

"He's very prideful," Superego added. "He might be fairly sure of his success here. Should we say we're not going to sign as a sort of test?"

"While the idea of seeing him explode over a fake-out sounds fucking hilarious, I don't think that's a good plan. I still vote to make the change and show it to him."

"Perhaps we could save our decision for the last minute no matter what. After all, his reaction to the change might make a huge difference in the end."

"Yea, true. Still got a third scenario, though."

Superego tilted her head. "What would that be?"

"The pheromone kicks in and everything goes sideways," Id answered, flatly.

"I have some thoughts on that, actually. After countless times going over the first encounter, there is only one thing I can think of that triggered it; how close he got. We always avoided friendships and such in life, but now we're dealing with them and having strange results. It's entirely possible that the anxiety we feel getting physically close to certain people is either magnified with him due to our attraction, or said attraction makes close proximity with him… different from others."

"He is sexy as fuck," Id cackled. "And when he gets mad… Whew!" She fanned herself as vapors started rising off her scales.

"Exactly my point. If he gets close to us again, especially if he's mad about us saying no, there's a good chance the pheromone will kick in whether we want it to or not. So if we find ourselves in a similar situation, we need a way to suppress it."

Id looked pensive for a long moment before a smile slowly spread across her face. "I have an idea on what could turn us off."


Rosie couldn't pull herself away from the radio.

Alastor's latest broadcast stirred up the Cannibal Colony more than usual. His holiday frustrations seemed to take a different tone this year. Usually the show after Lust Day involved more torture than eating, as if the man lost his appetite but still desperately desired to inflict pain. The sound of his knives sharpening against each other always made for an appetizing interlude before he would slice into his victims, but today there was very little of that. He seemed to quickly abandon his tools, leaving his audience to visualize him digging a claw into his victim as he slowly cut the poor soul apart piece by piece. In some ways, this felt different even from his usual broadcasts. Rosie might even believe this was personal.

And his fans loved it.

Normally, some outsiders were left alone if they entered the colony, women in particular, but there was no quarter for as long as his broadcast played on every radio in the area. If a sinner walked over their border who wasn't a known cannibal, they were ambushed by large groups of ravenous colonists. It was a bloody feast, and the frenzy that fueled them drove them mad.

Rosie, however, kept her composure better than her fellow cannibals, and despite how much she adored Alastor's fervor, she couldn't help but feel a touch concerned. This was not his usual style, and she couldn't help but wonder what triggered this sudden change in intensity. He always deeply enjoyed the suffering of his victims, but this almost felt like he was losing himself in it.

What was going on that he felt the need to escape so deeply into his work?

Perhaps she would check on him after the weekend passed, if only to give him time to cool down. Despite having an understanding that neither one of them would pry into personal affairs without an invitation, she couldn't simply ignore the feeling that something was amiss. Despite her hope that it would turn out to be nothing in the end, she knew to trust her instincts.

They were rarely wrong.


Alastor felt absolutely jubilant.

Something about this show felt unbelievably satisfying, and it was like he finally scratched an itch that he hadn't even known was bothering him. He knew that feeling, though; it would not last long, but it was such a relief to feel it again at all. Perhaps he has been relying too heavily on his knives lately; it might do him good to get more personal with his victims again.

The energy from the colony left him vibrating with power, and in a way it made him feel a little woozy. Apparently they enjoyed the change just as much as he did. Placing his hand on the wall, he stored the excess energy away, leaving his body feeling a little fatigued. It wouldn't do well for him to get too antsy.

After all, tomorrow is a big day!

Still, there was a downside to his excitement. Cleaning his knives, scrubbing the recording booth and commanding his shadows to dispose of the mangled remains was more difficult than ever to get through. This slow, quiet time is supposed to be a peaceful stabilizer for him, but instead he often found himself trying to rush a step. The temptation to vanish the mess away kept gnawing at him, but he didn't dare. Doing the work by hand has always been an important part of the process, and he would not take the lazy way out.

When he was finally finished, he sighed in relief. It was over; thank goodness! Now it was time to walk down the hall to his bedchamber and sit in front of the large window, sipping his brandy as the day came to an end. He took long strides down the hall, unable to travel at his usual, leisurely pace as his body still felt like it was resonating. This time, he had dumped a bit more power than usual into his tower, but it wasn't enough to stop this feeling. Once he finally reached his chair, he couldn't even bring himself to sit in it. In the end he found himself pacing in front of the window with his brandy in hand as the idea of staying still sat beyond his grasp.

He could not conceive any reason why Eliza wouldn't sign his contract, and he didn't dare return to the hotel early for her answer. He had his pride to consider, after all, and he couldn't afford to look desperate. Even so, the temptation to teleport over and request an answer haunted him, and he couldn't relieve the anxiety that waiting brought him. He mulled over his options. Everything was perfect; she had her freedom, her safety, endless potential to rise in the ranks, and the opportunities to do so. She stood only to gain from this arrangement, and he would finally have the security he desired. They would be free to pursue whatever friendship lay in store at an easy pace, and perhaps he could finally share some of his secrets with her, as well as learn some of hers in return. Yes, the situation was utterly ideal!

So why the blazes was he so anxious?

Then his mind traveled over to the unthinkable; what would happen if she didn't sign? The idea of continuing their friendship without the security of the pact made him dreadfully nervous, and he wasn't sure he could break off the friendship and ignore her for the rest of eternity. That led him back to his final option; her early demise. Contemplating that made his ears droop to the sides. He didn't want to think about that at all. No, he had to believe this would work. There was no other way.

Luckily, there was something else to think about, though focusing on it was rather difficult. This coming weekend was the… Oh, what was it called again? The festival in the North Point; Husk pronounced it for him once but he'd be damned if he could remember it now. Yet another event that gave him anxiety, since he was obligated to go and try to secure a new patron for the hotel. Finally he just summoned the letter. Jigoku Nebuta Matsuri, yes, that's the name. He originally planned to play it by ear, seeing as he knew nothing of the Asian countries, but maybe a little planning was in order.

Anything to distract him from other things.


First thing the next morning, Alastor was in front of his mirror while humming gleefully to himself. Straightening his bowtie and correcting his hair, the overlord felt nothing short of giddy. Today he would put an end to his bothersome concerns once and for all, and he would have his precious new underling. Finally, things were falling into place.

"Well, now," he called out, turning to his shade and throwing out his arms. "Do I look ready to accept a new soul into my ranks?" When the shade offered some modest, silent applause with an approving nod, Alastor gave a showman's bow, playing his stock applause to accompany his servant. "I thought so! Well, let's not waste any time, then!"

He waltzed into the lobby at eight o' clock on the dot, enjoying the greeting of the grandfather clock's deep chime. As expected for first thing in the morning, the lobby was utterly empty, as not even Husk was up just yet. He knew Niffty was likely in the kitchen, and a couple guests might be having breakfast already in the dining room, but otherwise he managed to make his way up to her room unhindered. Before he knocked, he took a moment to straighten out any wrinkles in his suit. He might be meeting with a friend, but all contracts deserved his best efforts.

Especially the ones that matter like this.

When he raised his hand to knock, he hesitated. Surely she's had enough time to come to a decision, right? Was he rushing her in any way? It's been a few days, but he's had people agree in less than an hour before. No, he has given her plenty of time. Finally, he rolled his shoulders to loosen them up before giving his usual "Shave and a Haircut" knock and waiting. And waiting.

Still. Waiting.

Slightly irritated, he gave another knock, this one louder than the last. "Eliza, are you in there?" After another span of silence, he moved on to the therapy room and knocked once more. "Are you busy right now, my dear?"

Nothing.

"Hmm…" he hummed, becoming suspicious as he slowly turned to look down the hall. Was she hiding from this decision? She had to be aware that he could hunt her down rather easily; it's not like she had anywhere else to go, and the terrain she seemed to know the best was his very own Cannibal Colony. "No, surely not," he assured himself, slowly making his way to the mezzanine. He took another look at the lobby, noting that Husk still wasn't at his post yet. Perhaps the hangover today was worse than usual.

Shadow-stepping to the main floor once more, he considered his options. He couldn't imagine she was in the stage-room, but perhaps she came down for breakfast? Well, there was a quick way to find out! Flicking his left ear, he switched on the radio in the dining room and took a moment to listen. As he suspected, there were a couple guests, and he could hear Niffty singing in the kitchen. Perhaps Eliza's in there cooking something with Niffty! She does help with the breakfasts sometimes, as far as he knew. Now that he thought of it, it wouldn't be a terrible idea to discuss the contract over a meal, and he regretted not thinking of that sooner.

When he opened the dining room door, he noted Paressu and Erpa having some sort of heated discussion, which thankfully meant they were far too busy to notice him and possibly interrupt his search. Unfortunately, the kitchen was just as disappointing as everywhere else, though watching Niffty zoom this way and that made him chuckle.

Her large head spun around when she heard him, and her smile reached her ears. "Oh, hey Al!" Niffty greeted, happily. "Are you going to cook with me today? I was thinking of-"

"Oh, no, no, no," Alastor declined as politely as possible. If he didn't, Niffty would likely regale him with her long list of plans, and he simply didn't have the time to humor her. "Have you seen Eliza, darling? I can not seem to find her this morning."

"She's not in her room?" Niffty asked. "That's odd. She rarely comes down for breakfast anymore, and I haven't seen her in the dining room today either. I don't think she has sessions this early, but maybe she's working?"

"Unfortunately not," he sighed. "Well, if you see her, do tell her I wish to speak with her."

"Sure thing, Al!" With that, Niffty went back to her cooking, and Alastor made his way back into the lobby. His patience was waning, and he sent his shadow to check around the hotel grounds. After all, it was possible that she started her garden project during his absence, and she could be tending to it. He never did hear where she planned to start it, so it might not be visible from the entrance.

When his servant came back with nothing to report, his claws flexed. Where has that blasted little dragon gone? Perhaps she went on a walk with her little bird; he didn't specify that he'd be returning first thing in the morning. It's possible she believed she had some time. Calming himself and silencing the menacing static that he hadn't realized was sounding around him, he reminded himself that he still had one room to check. Granted he didn't hold out much hope to find her in the stage-room, but it would be silly of him to overlook it. Making his way over to the door, he prepared himself for disappointment as he raised his hand to knock.


Having just finished some vocal exercises, Eliza decided against singing a song in the emptiness. Practicing left her feeling more focused and calm, and she didn't need to risk ruining it. She needed all the confidence she could get; Alastor could arrive at any time, and when he did, he'd be expecting an answer. Calling Alucard over to her with an outstretched arm, she was more than happy to give the crow a quick scratch on the head when he dipped his head low. Watching him puff up in pleasure made her smile.

The piano vanished as she stepped down from the stage, and she made sure to move slowly as her nerves threatened to return. She could do this. She felt like she had accounted for everything, but went over every plan she had for good measure while Alucard gave her temples a comforting rub with his head. Once she reached the door, she decided that she would return to her room, give the contract one final glance-over (though frankly she had it memorized word-for-word at this point,) and ready herself for an uncomfortable confrontation. No matter what decision she picked in the end, this was not going to be easy to get through. She could only hope that Alastor would take his time returning.

Hope that was quickly dashed when she opened the door to find herself face-to-face with the wendigo as he stood on the other side, poised to knock.

"Oh!" she gasped, taking a step back in surprise and clutching her rose as she nearly had a heart attack. Well, so much for taking his time. "Sweet mercy, you startled me!"

He couldn't hold back a cackle as he watched her calm herself. "So I see," he teased, lowering his hand. "And what in Lucifer's name are you doing in here, my dear?"

"I was… decompressing," she told him, her face darkening. "I… I'm rather nervous. About today."

Alastor gave a small, pitying smile. "Understandable. Still, what are you doing here that you can't do in your room or workspace, I wonder."

His suspicious tone made her narrow her eyes at him. "Nothing I intend to share. But I couldn't relax upstairs, so I came down here."

Somehow, seeing her so nervous felt somewhat concerning. Why would her decision make her so anxious? She… she did intend to sign, right? Or perhaps she made a change she feared he wouldn't approve of. Well, at least it turned out that she wasn't avoiding him, so he took that as a good sign. "Well then, if there is nothing else-" he offered his hand for her to take, "then I do not wish to delay any further."

Eliza gulped before taking his hand. She planned to have an answer after seeing his reaction to the change she made, but somehow slipping her fingers into his claws to teleport to the second floor made it feel all too real, and she started second-guessing herself as she appeared outside the therapy room. When Alastor opened the door with his usual flair, she gave Alucard a gentle rub on his cheek. "Wait for me in the lobby, OK?"

The bird tilted his head and hesitated, twitching this way and that as he held her gaze. Finally he gave a soft coo, nipped at her temple and flew off to the mezzanine rail to sit and wait.

"Well, not quite the lobby," Alastor teased, "but close enough! Now, shall we my dear?"

As she made her way inside, the click of the door shutting behind her made her extremely nervous, and she bit back the urge to bolt.

'Don't fucking panic, damn it!' Id scolded.

'We have to remain calm,' Superego concurred with her opposing half. 'We went over everything last night; nothing should have been missed, but we'll handle any surprises as they come.'

"Now, don't keep me in suspense!" he said, excitedly. "Have you made your decision?"

Eliza turned to him with a somewhat guilty expression. "I haven't yet."

Alastor's claws on his left hand seemed to click as each finger flexed individually. Fighting against a spike of frustration, he asked, "Do you need more time? Admittedly, I thought a few days would be more than enough!"

"...I don't know, but I did make a change that I'd like you to take a look at."

"Did you now?" He held out his hand expectantly. "Then allow me!"

The therapist turned and walked over to her desk and pulled the contract out of the top side drawer. This was it; time to see how he reacted. No matter what, she stood by the change, even if it depressed her to make it. With a resigned, internal sigh, she shut the drawer, turned around and walked back, slowly handing it to him to examine. "I apologize for how sloppy it is, but I figured you wouldn't mind formalizing the change. Rewriting the contract to add it felt a little rude."

"Then I'll do so now, if only to make it easier to read." With that, she watched him zap the page with a red bolt, and despite being unable to see it, she knew it worked as he started from the top and worked his way down until he reached the critical clause.

He froze.

and the contracted soul is not obligated in any way to share their secrets or thoughts in any way unless they are vital to the health and safety of Alastor, the Radio Demon. Furthermore, any and all interactions between Alastor and the contracted soul are to be kept professional at all times, banning the following activities:

"Eliza," he growled, his tone dangerously low as his anger began to bubble to the surface as he read the list of banned activities that included their friendly chats, private lessons and anything else they might ever do as friends, "what is this?"

"If I sign my soul over to you," she informed him, calmly, "that is a requirement."

His head tilted to the side with a nasty crack! "Why?"

"I don't feel as though I can be friends with you if you own me."

Snapping his head straight again, he recoiled slightly. There was an itch in the back of his mind; one that tempted him to do terrible things; things that would ruin every chance of making this work.

"I don't follow," he responded, blankly, ignoring that itch with every ounce of willpower he possessed.

"Well, for one thing," she began, keeping her tone as matter-of-fact as possible, "everything you're interested in has nothing to do with our friendship." The overlord flinched, but didn't interrupt. "You want immunity from the pheromone, which I completely understand, you said you wanted to make use of my skills, and I greatly appreciate the right to keep my thoughts and secrets to myself."

"But there is plenty of room for friendly interaction!" he insisted. "Perhaps you meant that we should be purely professional when I call on you for help? That would be perfectly understandable, my dear, and something I would readily agree to if that's your intent."

Eliza was honestly surprised by how hopeful he was. Had he really always intended for them to remain friends in spite of this? "Alastor, for lack of a better way to put this… This contract basically makes you my employer."

"Well, I suppose that is technically correct," he conceded, "but only when I need your assistance, my dear! You're not my employee at all times!"

"Maybe not… But I would always be your property."

Alastor's mouth opened, but no sound came out for quite some time as he found himself unable to contest that. No matter how hard he tried, his mind could only draw a blank, and that itch slowly morphed into an incessant scratching. He honestly never expected that she would make him choose between their friendship and the soul contract, but now that it was happening it made him so… very…

Angry.

As his thoughts were slowly transforming into a maelstrom of confusion and panic, his control started to slip. "And belonging to me… offends you?"

"Belonging to anyone offends me, Alastor," she reminded him, firmly. "It's nothing personal."

"I find that incredibly hard to believe," he growled, practically throwing the contract onto the couch as his rage started to take over.

'Wait, so… he wants the friendship?' Superego asked. 'That's unexpected.'

'Well, he ain't gonna keep it and own us at the same time,' Id asserted.

Eliza pinched the bridge of her nose as she contemplated her words. "I don't understand; why would you ever think I could mix personal and professional? I've made it perfectly clear that I can't do that!"

"Yes, you stated that with my rival, but tell me; do you judge Vaggie and Charlie for their situation as well? You've never shared any negative opinions with me on the subject, and they are romantically involved!"

Eliza's brows furrowed as she fought for an explanation. "They're a different situation. The business came second, and they were a couple first. It's not the same."

"We are friends now, and the contract is second," he reminded her. "The situation is exactly the same!"

"Alastor, it's not the same to me!"

"And why not?"

Superego was speeding through her optional responses. 'Let's see; 'We haven't known each other long,' 'We just went through a traumatic experience,' 'I'm still nervous with personal relationships,' 'I secretly like you but won't say because I know you don't want it,' …"

"Because everyone leaves!" she blurted out.

Superego panicked. 'Why did you choose THAT?!'

The overlord just blinked at her unexpected answer. "I… beg your pardon?"

"Everyone. Leaves." She repeated, furiously. "It doesn't matter who it is. A friend. A father figure. Some kids stuck hanging around you and wanting nothing to do with you. No matter who it is, they always leave! But I'm here for eternity! If I'm going to bind myself to someone for the rest of my afterlife, it will only be for business, because I'm not going to spend forever missing our friendship after you eventually get bored and leave!"

The silence in the room was deafening. Alastor just stood there, stunned at the intense outburst he never saw coming. This wasn't at all what he imagined would come of this.

"You… expect me to leave?" he asked, slowly. There was a pain in his chest, something unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Whatever it was, whatever that pain meant, he knew one thing for certain: He wanted nothing to do with it. "Then I suppose you've always believed that, yes? That I will walk away the moment I tire of you? Even before Vox?"

"I…" Eliza choked, too raw to even try to hide her feelings anymore. "I've always known it'll end some day, but I wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. I like being your friend, but this-" she motioned towards the contract, "-isn't how I want it to end. I don't mind you having my soul, but I can't… I just can't." Her eyes were wet with tears, but she refused to let them fall. "I'm sorry."

Alastor paused as his mind returned to his options. If he let go of the contract, he could try to be friends, but he would always know that she's holding back because of this fear. He always thought it was something he was doing wrong, but in the end, their friendship was held back by something beyond his control. He never had a chance. But if he ended the friendship now, could he just walk away? In spite of the pain, he still didn't want her dead. But maybe, just maybe, that would be the best, in the end.

But not today. Not while he still felt so confused. He wasn't ready to commit to that just yet, but if he decided to end her life, he would make it quick. It would be his last act of friendship to her. Until he made up his mind, however, he was no longer in the mood to play nice.

"Then that's the end of it, I suppose." With a wave of his hand, the contract rolled itself up and vanished back to his office, where it would sit until he decided what to do with it. Perhaps she would change her mind about her added clause, in a few days. Surely she'll see reason once she recovers from this emotional experience! And perhaps he could help that process along. "But I do hope you'll be able to look after yourself, my dear. There are many who would covet a soul like yours, and most of them are far less understanding and flexible than I."

Several tendrils flared out of Eliza's back. "Are you… threatening me?!"

"Only a friendly warning, my dear," he purred. "There's no need for the display!" When she didn't calm down, he added, "You're in no danger from me."

Yet.

Eliza gave him a wary look. "Because you don't want to hurt me? Or because we're in the therapy room?"

After a tense moment, the wendigo laughed. "Both, I'd imagine! This room seems to be quite the safe little space for you! Too bad it's protection doesn't extend beyond these walls, but I'm sure you'll handle it just fine." Eliza bristled, but didn't say anything as the man turned to leave. But unfortunately, the vindictive overlord had one final, petty card to play. "I wonder how you'll handle it when your other friend leaves. After all, whether he's successfully redeemed or released when this project fails, it's as inevitable as my boredom, isn't it? Ha!"

Her crestfallen face should have been beautiful. It was exactly what he wanted; to twist the knife and let her stew in her misery for ruining his perfect contract. But as he walked away, with that dispirited expression the last thing he saw of her, he felt…

Empty.


The Day Before The Jigoku Nebuta Matsuri:

Had she heard that right?

Eliza was seated on one of the toothy benches in the lobby when Alastor appeared, turning decisively away from her and walking over to the front desk where Husk was shuffling his cards. He hadn't had a drop of alcohol all morning, and Eliza took the opportunity to observe him sober. He seems to be just as surly and low-energy sober as when he's drunk, but she could see that he was lost in some deeper thoughts that he likely drank to be rid of.

Alastor's presence just made the cat roll his eyes, but otherwise the overlord seemed to be expected. Eliza intended to tune out; Alastor hasn't spoken to her since the contract fell through, and frankly she wasn't sure what to say to him anyways. Alucard was once again keeping his distance from the overlord, hissing whenever the man got too close. It was the only way to tell when the man was present anymore, as he stopped using his audio cues.

He was done being considerate.

But as she sat there, she heard something that made her heart skip a beat. Three very special words: Jigoku Nebuta Matsuri.

The therapist didn't immediately get up, struggling to keep her reaction minimal as she fought the urge to bolt upstairs to her computer. When she eventually made it up there, however, she typed in the words hopefully.

And there it was; the Jigoku Nebuta Matsuri, a celebration in the North Point that was happening…

"Tomorrow?!" She read out loud, absolutely shocked. "There's a Nebuta Festival in Hell TOMORROW?!"

She didn't even take a second to consider it. The moment it sank in, she was up and moving. It has been so long since her last Nebuta Festival. How old had she been, eight? No, seven! That's right, she never made it when she was eight because of... reasons. So very long ago, and it was right on her doorstep. She had to prepare, but she wanted to do something special; something to make her forget everything that was happening with Alastor.

Alastor. Thinking of him made her pause. He was going to this festival! She didn't know why, but he was apparently going to be there. She didn't dare ask for a ride; the man probably would just wordlessly dismiss her at this point. Maybe she could ask Charlie? Could she fit it into the hotel budget?

The budget… that Alastor keeps close tabs on like a miser. And would probably have no inclination to allow her access to now.

"Damn it!" she hissed. She would have to go by herself. It wouldn't be such a problem if it probably wouldn't take all her money just to get there. It's not like the North Point border is exactly close. That, and it pissed her off to think that, if the whole contract hadn't come up in the first place, Alastor would probably be more than happy to bring her along. Vindictive prick. At least everything was ruined before he ever found out that she had deeper feelings for him. She could never tell him how much she regretted forcing him to choose between the contract and their friendship, not that she had the words to express it anyways. Maybe it was a good thing he refused to talk to her; what's the point of trying to say she missed him when she knew he'd never listen?

'Hey, who needs his moody ass?' Id laughed. 'We haven't started the garden yet, and we didn't have to pay for those drinks! We have nearly a month's worth of money. Yea, the pay is shit, but who gives a fuck? Forget your dead-end crush and move on to something fun!'

'There is a way around cab fare,' Superego added, thoughtfully. 'We do have wings.'

'You know, I never thought to get coordinated with them,' Id sighed. 'I can shoot us into the air and hover, but that's kind of my limit. Where can we practice?'

After her last session of the day, Eliza found herself leaning on the edge of a building near the clock tower, her spear-head dagger ready to be summoned at a moment's notice. A man was eyeing her from across the street, and she made a show of being nervous.

After all, what better encouragement to fly than to try to escape danger?

By the time she could fly a little ways without crashing into things, there was a sizable pile of bodies in the middle of the street. The bright side? She never had to use her dagger! The wings made short work of all her would-be muggers. Although she felt a little bad just leaving the bodies laying around like this.

She pulled out her phone and dialed a number she's never actually called before. "Hi, Rosie! This is Eliza. Could you give me the number to Plaisirs Crus? I have a line on a large quantity of meat that I think they'll appreciate."

Now that she could at least adequately use her wings, she made her way to Mammon's Supermarket. The light was almost gone, but the store was open all day and overnight, so it wasn't a problem. Now that she had her method of travel somewhat covered, it was time to honor Mr. Hayashida. He had always been a superstitious man, and there was one thing he did that she made fun of him for all the time as a kid, and it seemed appropriate to do it now; she would make two boxes of fried tofu. One was to honor the Holy Kitsune, while the other was to appease any local Wild Kitsune.

He was the only one in her life who left her without any choice in the matter, and she could forgive that. After all, no one escapes old age.

The trial and error that night in her kitchenette did wonders, and while she couldn't say she was happy, at least she didn't feel as depressed anymore.


Author's Notes:

Well... that got depressing.