Evelyn Peters would die for her.

Anything for her, really.

Ignoring the grumbled protests, Evelyn finally succumbed to temptation, pressing a kiss to her daughter's forehead. Then another on her cheek. A fuchsia smear was left in her wake, creased by the wrinkle of her daughter's nose.

"Sorry, ma chérie. I had to." With a quiet laugh, Evelyn used a handkerchief to wipe the evidence away, "Stay still, now." Annie reluctantly obeyed, though the slight droop of her lips betrayed her displeasure. Affection bloomed in Evelyn's chest, thawing her frustration and the stubborn ache in her gams.

What would she do without her?

Four years ago, Evelyn's life had taken a sharp left turn into foreign territory. Now, she couldn't possibly live in a world without Annie. Her sweet Annie - a ray of sunshine in the gray sky - adorned in her favorite outfit and little blue heels.

"Perfect." Fighting the urge to leave one more kiss, Evelyn smoothed down Annie's dress, tucking stray blonde curls behind her ear. Conscious of the foot traffic around them, she kept her daughter's hand in hers, turning -

"Oh!" Of course, she couldn't take a step without running into someone, a vision of red. Her heart leapt into her throat as firm hands curled around her arms, briefly, possessively, before loosening.

"Pardon me -" She began, then stopped, "Alastor?"

"Why, if it isn't Miss Evelyn Peters. What a pleasant surprise!" A broad smile unfurled on his lips, those espresso eyes locking onto her behind a thin pair of cheaters, "Are you alright? I hope I didn't give you a fright, there." His hands slipped from her arms, and he took a careful step back, gaze dropping to the child beside her.

"And who is this?" He asked. Under his inspection, Annie slunk into the safety of Evelyn's shadow, peering out from behind. Alastor's grin widened, "Why, this must be Miss Annie! Your mother has told me quite a bit about you, darling."

Evelyn smiled, pleasantly surprised. Alastor was just as diligent an audience as he was a host, but she hadn't expected him to care for the details. After all, her stories paled in comparison, the lukewarm ravings of a wife and mother. Alastor, on the other hand, could create something with his words, weaving them together like a well-versed seamstress.

"That's right." Feeling mildly guilty, Evelyn placed a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder, "Annie, this is one of the nice men who work at Daddy's station. Say hello." She prayed that Alastor didn't mind the introduction, a truth distilled.

Reality was far more complicated - men weren't always nice - but Evelyn was determined to preserve Annie's fragile perspective for as long as humanly possible. What did a four-year-old need to know of the world, except for the lovely little things? Family and ice cream sodas, stockings and home-cooked meals.

Thankfully, the radio host showed no sign of disagreement, leaning forwards to offer a hand to Annie. In response, Annie leaned further into Evelyn, clutching her skirt like her life depended on it.

Unfazed, Alastor remained in place, waiting patiently. That too-large-for-life smile waited, too.

Evelyn gently prodded her daughter, nodding in Alastor's direction; much as she wished, she couldn't protect her from everything.

"Well, go on. What do we say, Annie?" The young girl looked between the pair before relaxing her grip, one hand stretching out. She made no move to step out from behind her mother.

"Nice to meet you, sir." Pride swelled in Evelyn's breast as Annie's small hand tried to wrap itself around Alastor's.

"What manners, darling! Trust me, the pleasure is all mine."

Evelyn barely heard Alastor's reply, his voice drowned out by passing sirens. Beyond their small corner of the sidewalk, streetcars and flivvers hustled past, people crowding either side in waves of festive chatter. Dogs barked, heels clicked, and Evelyn could've sworn she heard music already coming from inside the theater.

While it occasionally overwhelmed her young daughter's senses, the cacophony was home to Evelyn. New Orleans - the sounds and sights, the city and bayou - ran in her blood, and always would.

Even so, there was something odd about seeing Alastor Fils-Aimé, here, away from the papered walls of the station. He stuck out like a sore thumb, a flash of color against a landscape of monochrome. In the clouded daylight of afternoon, the deep maroon of his suit was striking, a fitting compliment to his darker complexion.

"What brings you to this part of town, cher?" Evelyn realized Alastor was asking something of her, straightening from his position to smooth down the hair along his forehead, "Attending the picture show, I presume!"

Glancing at the theater directly beside them, she grinned, "Now, where'd you get that idea, Al?" The nickname felt out of place, but Alastor received it warmly.

"Just a hunch, doll." He chuckled, shooting her an emboldened wink. To Annie, he added, "Don't fret, sweetheart, you'll have a hoot and a half!"

"That's right." Evelyn didn't have much confidence in the film's suitability for a four-year-old, but she smiled anyway, squeezing her daughter's shoulder encouragingly, "We're celebrating Annie's birthday."

"Are you now?" Alastor's grin widened, stretching from ear to ear.

Before he could speak again, Annie decided to join the conversation, mumbling faintly into Evelyn's skirt. Raising her head, Annie focused those big, shining eyes on her, pouting, "I don't wanna go, Mamá."

Her heart constricted in her chest, aching something terrible. For Annie, she was terribly weak, though Evelyn supposed that most mothers were. Kneeling down, she cupped her daughter's face.

"I know, ma chérie." Trying to sound more enthused, she smiled, "But we'll have a good time, you'll see."

She was taken aback when Alastor suddenly knelt beside them, as if it were perfectly natural. Annie immediately shied away, nearly bowling Evelyn over as she pressed into her side.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart!" The reaction didn't appear to bother Alastor in the slightest, brimming with characteristic fervor, "How old are you?"

Annie eyed Alastor in quiet suspicion, and laughter bubbled in Evelyn's chest. Beaming with pride, Evelyn answered, "She's four, now."

"Already a young lady!" Alastor proclaimed, shaking his head in an imitation of shock, "When I was your age, my mother let me help her with the jambalaya." He nodded firmly, "It was the best in the parish, of course, why, in all of Louisiana!"

Evelyn studied the radio host for a moment, surprised.

He rarely spoke of family, except for the occasional compliment towards his mother. She briefly wondered why he hadn't invited her to visit the station, yet; it was fairly commonplace, even for the new hands, though such visitors mostly consisted of obliging wives and flustered birds keen on capturing one of the mens' attention.

His eyes fixed on her, as if aware of where her thoughts had gone. The grin seemed to freeze on his lips when he asked, "Is it correct to assume that you're waiting on your husband, then?" A pause, "Surely you didn't hoof it all the way up here alone."

Evelyn's amusement faded, cooling into a pit in her stomach. The smile she mustered was far from convincing, particularly to Alastor's keen eyes.

"Everything's Jake, Al. You don't need to concern yourself over us." She shrugged, heart aching at the small frown on her daughter's lips.

Annie absolutely adored her father, those identical blue eyes lighting up like fireworks on Mardi Gras when James was around. Evelyn knew better than to take it personal most times, but that envy chewed her up inside something fierce. After all, on the good days, her husband was a live wire, chasing the giggling girl around the house for hours on end. On the bad days...

Well, it might've been a blessing in disguise that James wasn't in town today, some opportunity in the Big Apple. Annie couldn't understand that, however, only the absence of her father on her big day.

"I must say," Alastor spoke in a deceptively casual tone, "It's not very polite, leaving a dame and her daughter to fend for themselves."

The sound of a throat clearing came from overhead, and Evelyn craned her neck back to meet a familiar pair of eyes.

"I am of the same opinion, myself," None other than James's father, Richard, stood before them, one hand gripping an ebony cane with furious intensity, "Though that is no excuse for why the mother of my granddaughter is crouched on the ground like some rag-a-muffin. Need I remind you where we are, Miss Evelyn?"

Piercing blue eyes - her husband's eyes, her daughter's eyes - burned into her with open disdain. Evelyn rose to her feet, slipping Annie's hand into her own, unsure as to whether it was a comfort for Annie or herself.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alastor straighten, brushing invisible dust off of his lapel.

Although Evelyn wanted to reply - something sharp, something stinging - she kept silent, biting the inside of her cheek. She wouldn't cause a scene in front of Annie, especially in front of family. Family-in-law.

To soothe the insult, Richard had bought the three of them tickets to the Saenger Theater, a ritzy joint that ate up half the block. New shows premiered there every month or so, drawn in by the allure.

Frankly, Evelyn wanted to rip up the tickets.

Annie was only four, and didn't have the interest - or attention span - for a silent film, and no amount of picture shows could absolve Annie's crushing disappointment. Neither James nor Richard had seen her this morning. Neither man had to watch the excitement drain from those blue eyes, her small shoulders slumping in realization.

But Evelyn couldn't refuse the offer. Regardless of Richard's opinion of her, the man doted on Annie religiously, though Evelyn suspected he'd long forgotten what raising a child was actually like.

Mercifully, Alastor broke the silence, instead. His hand snaked out to grab Richard's, shaking it with enthusiasm. That grin of his remained intact, though there was an edge to it that made a chill run up Evelyn's spine.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Peters, senior." He said, pausing slightly before the final word, and Evelyn wondered if the emphasis was intentional, "The Big Cheese himself. Pleasure to meet you, sir!"

It was obvious Richard hadn't expected such a greeting, and studied Alastor quietly, assessing as to whether the man was razzing him or not. In Alastor's grip, Richard's hand appeared almost frail; pale with popping veins, like bleeding ink on paper.

"That's correct," He finally said, nodding once. The men dropped hands, and Richard swept his along his suit, "And you are?" There was an unmistakable challenge to the question, one that could make lesser men bow. Alastor stood tall, genuine warmth returning to his expression.

"Alastor Fils-Aimé, at your service." He gave a small bow, sweeping out his arm to catch the tumbling hat. Although the gesture was one of respect, there was something almost mocking about it...That, or it was simply wishful thinking on Evelyn's behalf. "I'm one of your radio hosts at WODT. You might recognize my voice from the latest nightly segment, A Little Bit of Everything."

Evelyn found her voice again, her thumb tracing small circles along the back of Annie's hand, whose grip tightened on hers reflexively.

"It's a real hit 'round these parts." She said, "The station's revenue has already increased by a quarter." She silently prayed that Richard wouldn't mention her role in Alastor's promotion; Richard could be vindictive when he so desired, a trait that seemed to run in the family.

But Richard didn't even glance at her, only humming in acknowledgement, a noise that betrayed no outward sign of admiration or reproach.

"You're too kind, cher." Alastor met her eyes, instead, the edges of his smile softening as he re-adjusted his hat, "Truly."

He turned to Richard, smile growing, "It's wonderful to finally meet you, sir, just wonderful! I'm pleased as punch to hear that these lovely ladies won't be left unaccompanied for any longer."

Richard cleared his throat again, the tip of his cane scraping against the sidewalk. Without looking at Evelyn, or addressing Alastor's comment, he said, "We must be going now, Mr. Fils-Aimé. I'm sure you understand."

Alastor nodded, "Of course. It's been an honor to meet you, Mr. Peters." He glanced at Evelyn, shooting her another wink. Her lips pressed together to keep from grinning, relief dislodging some of the tension in her limbs.

"Good day, Mr. Fils-Aimé." Was all she said, failing to smother her amusement.

"Till next time, Mrs. Peters." Alastor replied in kind. Smiling down at Annie, he added, "Happy birthday, Miss Annie! You're in good hands." Annie nodded wordlessly, and Evelyn was thrilled to see her daughter's lips curl up into a shy smile, her tight grip relaxing on Evelyn's skirt.

With that, the radio host turned on his heel, strolling away with the confidence of someone who belonged. Evelyn wasn't sure if she envied him, or simply wished for the chance to escape, as well.

"Let's go, Miss Evelyn." Richard commanded, eyeing the theater's rising face, "The Peters are not tardy to any occasion." Evelyn didn't trust her voice, so she merely nodded, resisting the temptation to sneak one last glimpse of the retreating figure.

She felt lighter, now, she realized, some of her earlier frustrations having melted away under the sheer force of Alastor's cheer.

However, Evelyn kept her daughter's hand in hers, knowing that - this time - it was entirely for her own benefit.


A/N: Phew, Alastor is difficult as all hell to pin down! Thank you for reading, dolls and demons. We're setting up the groundwork for what lies ahead...

1920's slang, decoded (in order of appearance):

Ma chérie - term of endearment;

Gams - a woman's legs;

Cheaters - glasses;

Streetcar(s) - a vehicle on rails built along the street;

Flivver(s) - a Fort T automobile;

Monochrome - a reference to the gradual shift from black-and-white films to color;

Hoot and a half - a fun and entertaining experience;

Hands - hired workers/employees;

Keen - to be interested in and/or flirtatious with;

Hoof (to hoof it) - to travel on foot;

Jake - okay (i.e. everything's okay);

Live wire - a lively person;

Jambalaya - a Creole and Cajun dish, and one of Alastor's favorite meals;

Parish - area of city, analogous to counties;

Rag-a-muffin - an unsightly, disputable person;

Big Cheese - someone of importance and/or wealth;

Razz (to razz) - to tease and/or make fun of;

WODT - a historical radio channel in New Orleans;

A Little Bit of Everything - the title of a radio broadcast from 1928 ( /_83evvGmGvU)