Charlie crept down the stairs of her hotel, careful to avoid the creaky stairs by keeping close to the walls. Her movements were stealthy and quiet, measured and hesitant. While she was the Princess of Hell, she didn't want to know what else went bump in the night besides her fellow demons. Down, down she went into the bowels of darkness and despair until she came across the entranceway of the hotel's kitchen. With a sigh, she began to feel against the wall until she came across the telltale contour of an outlet and a switch.

Once she flicked the toggle upwards, the kitchen was awash in the glow of bright white light. Squinting, Charlie hurriedly wandered over to the fridge. Her eyes were still adjusting to the intensity of the brightness—they were watering!—but in time, Charlie allowed her eyes to widen just a bit.

Inside the refrigerator, there was a vast array of foods that had taken up residence inside. Now that a few patrons had wandered into her hotel seeking free board or to take a shot at redemption, Charlie and Vaggie had taken up Angel's advice to stock up on food for all the weary, sinful souls under her care.

A smile twitched on her face at that.

Logically, most of the demons were here to either watch her fail or to get some free amenities, but… it was a start. A rough one at that, but a start nonetheless.

As she propped open the fridge with one of her feet, she began to peruse the contents. There were a few cartons of eggs, a loaf of bread, a multitude of vegetables and fruits, a few containers filled with leftovers… hmm… She tapped one of her fingers at the point of her chin, a look of consideration on her face.

It was early in the morning, the witching hour as one would say, so it wouldn't make her too much of a glutton if she were to eat something heavy...but… Her teeth absently chewed on her bottom lip. But, what if someone wanted to eat the leftovers during breakfast. Oh, what a conundrum.

Well, it was a good thing that she was the Princess of Hell and not the resident glutton. She took out an apple from the pile of fruits, closed the door, and—

"Alastor!" She dropped the apple onto her feet, which were sadly bereft of any and all protection that could have saved her precious toes from pain. A small groan left her lips as she bent down to retrieve her fallen fruit. Damn, it better not ended up bruised. "What brings you here?" She furrowed her brows at him in curiosity. "So early in the morning?"

Unlike Charlie, who was adorned in pajamas befitting that of a broke college student in the turn of the newest century, Alastor was dressed in his everyday attire. She had half a mind to ask if he either forewent the idea of changing into sleepwear or had abandoned the idea of sleep altogether. As it were, it was still barely three in the morning, she was craving a snack, and her business partner was eyeing her like he would with some helpless prey.

All in all, not exactly the most ideal way to start the day.

"Well, I was browsing a novel when I heard you go down the stairs! Ha ha ha!" He tilted his head back and laughed, the volume of which was sure to awaken any of the sinners who were light sleepers. If it were anyone else, Charlie would have shushed him, but… He was kind of the Radio Demon. An Overlord of Hell. You just didn't tell people like him that, even if you technically ranked above him in the social hierarchy. "Hungry for something, my dear?"

Charlie, as awkward as ever, held out her apple to the light in answer.

"Don't worry, Al! I got it all under control." She took a bite of her chosen apple to make a point, but found herself horrified when she bit into the flesh only to realize that the skin was bruised and just plain icky tasting. If it weren't for her mother's lessons on decorum and etiquette, Charlie would have surely spat out the spoiled flesh.

Yikes.

Looks like Vaggie and her were going on a grocery run later.

"Excuse me, darling, but I do believe that a face like that… well…" Alastor's radio noise began to evolve into a series of "oohhhs" and murmurs of disgust before dissolving into his stereotypical hum of white noise.

Charlie thought about asking what kind of face she had made to have warranted a response from Alastor's hidden audience, but found that she'd rather not ask.

"Fine… so my apple isn't the best treat for a morning pick me up." She shrugged as she tossed her bitten apple to and fro, from one palm to another. She followed the arc of the curve of the trajectory of the apple before facing Alastor again. She sighed. "I'm sorry for disturbing your leisure reading. I'll be sure to be more quiet next time." She turned and began heading towards the exit. "If you're planning on staying here, make sure to switch off the light when you leave."

Suddenly, there was pressure on the Princess's shoulder. It was hooked into her upper arms and clawed. Although the grip was featherlight and allowed room for her to look back at her captor, there was a warning there that Charlie immediately took notice of.

"Yes?"

Alastor's grin, which had been remarkably calm and loose lipped for the entirety of their encounter thus far, had stretched until his cheeks were nonexistent and his gums could be seen behind the tightly curled flesh.

Despite the fact that Charlie was older than Alastor and had seen more than her fair share of violence, she couldn't help but gulp and shiver at his hold. Smiles don't look like that, no matter how psychopathic an individual you were.

Alastor's smile… took things too far.

"Now, when did I give the impression that I was disturbed? Perhaps I, too, also wanted to partake in an early morning snack!"

She quirked a brow. "Really."

"Of course, my dear! There's no better time than the present to go hunting late at night, into one of the famed forests of Hell, with nothing but your wits and a knife and the prey just waiting to be carved and sliced op—"

"Oookay—" She held up her hands in the universal sign for a time out. "—I hate to cut that short, Al, but that was going into territory that is almost too graphic for a hotel of redemption."

"Charlie." His eyes, deep red and glowing with malevolent intent, narrowed in either anger or amusement. At that point, Alastor's montonity in smiling confused the Hell out of Charlie—she could barely tell what was up and what was down when it came to Alastor! "We're in Hell. Nothing is too graphic for such a decaying pit of debauchery and disorder!"

"True, but I'd rather not commit murder just so I can stave off a craving." Charlie crosses her arms in front of her chest. "I'm not that desperate."

"Hmm." Alastor let go of her shoulder and yanked the fridge door open. "What were you craving, sweetheart?"

Charlie blinked. "Are you offering to cook for me?"

"Considering that I can't cook you, I might as well cook for you, ha ha ha!"

Charlie chuckled a little at that before her eyes began to grow wide with mischief. "Have you ever tried your hand at Italian cuisine, Alastor?"

Alastor looked like he was about to reply in earnest before his smile began to freeze and grow brittle.

"Are you asking because you honestly want to have Italian? Or are you asking to get under my skin?"

Charlie smiled cheekily at him before throwing her bruised apple into Alastor's awaiting hand. For a moment, Charlie could just barely make out a record scratch amidst the crackle of white noise. He was surprised. That was probably a good sign, right?

"Anything to do with apples, Al." She threw up her hands and situated herself at a nearby island to watch him work. "Have at it."

Alastor looked at her apple, a curious furrow in between his eyes. He seemed to examine the pierces skin, of the neat little hole that had been caused by her sharp teeth. Finally, after what seemed to be like an eternity had to pass, he came to a decision.

"Something filling, but not too heavy?"

"That would be ideal, yes."

He shot her a small grin. "Then your wish is my command."

With that, he hustled towards the fridge and took out several ingredients that didn't seem like they would go together. Nearby, Charlie heaved herself onto the island's countertop and lounged there as she watched him. He began slicing her bitten apple into finely cut slices and then started to sauté them in a skillet alongside cinnamon and butter.

The aroma that arose from the pan caused her mouth to water. At the rate Alastor was going, he was sure to awaken the entire hotel. No way was anyone going to stay asleep after breathing in such a divine scent!

Next, he removed the sautéed apples and put more butter into the pan. As the butter melted over the heat, Alastor proceeded to crack open three eggs into a bowl, whisk them, and pour the mixture into the pan—after he had liberally spiced them up.

Hmm...apples and eggs, a weird combination to say the least.

"I hope I'm not boring you?" Alastor asked. During the procedure, he had been humming a simple tune or narrating what he had been doing. Charlie didn't mind, she liked his voice and it helped soothe the hunger that gnawed at her stomach.

"Not at all! You just seemed to be in your element, I didn't want to bother you."

"That's wonderful to hear! Because—" Alastor allowed the finished egg to slide gently onto a plate before adding the sautéed apples on top. With the help of a spatula and some creative thinking, he then folded the omelette in half. "—this apple omelette needs eating! What do you think?"

Charlie's eyes lit up as she made grabbing motions towards the food. She hadn't meant to be so childish, but it was well worth the embarrassment when her business partner chuckled indulgently at her before placing the dish into her hands.

"You know, it looks too good to eat!" Charlie looked at the plate in dismay. How could she live with herself to destroy such a masterpiece?

Alastor, on the other hand, didn't share her sentiments. He nudged her shoulder before gifting her a fork. "Now, now dear, it won't be as tasty if you let it cool."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Mom."

"Thank you, I try to emulate my role models as best as I can."

Readying herself, Charlie speared a little bit of the egg and the apple and gently let it rest on her tongue.

It was—!

Voice dry, Alastor couldn't help but comment, "I take it you like it?"

Charlie couldn't answer. She bobbed her head up and down in obvious approval before grabbing a bigger piece and greedily chewing it.

"It's sweet! And savory!" After hastily swallowing another piece of the omelette, she looked up at her business partner in wonderment. "Are all humans good at combining things like these and making it taste good?"

"Nope! Just me!"

"Well, in that case," Charlie gathered a bit of her food and beckoned for Alastor to come close. "You should also have a chance to enjoy your food!"

This time, in surprise, Alastor's radio static began to grow haywire. Channels were flipped from one to another at a speed that blurred and superimposed different sounds and audio cues. There were bells ringing, voices overlapping one another; she could even detect a small snippet of her singing when she first advertised the hotel on the news. Just when the mishmash of audio chaos began to reach its peak, Alastor's radio was abruptly switched off as if someone twisted the dial with a jerk.

"Pardon?"

"I think I should be the one asking that," Charlie murmured. What the Hell was that? "But go on."

"I'll have to decline your offer, Charlie." Alastor fiddled with the bow tie around his throat. Whatever bravado he usually displayed had dimmed and he seemed… cautious. "Sweets aren't meant for me."

Charlie's eyes widened. "You don't like sweets!" Her shriek could have caused glass to shatter. "How can you not like sweets?"

"Careful, dear, there are others—"

"But you don't like sweets."

Not used to being interrupted, Alastor's lips seemed to droop a little at the corners. There was a warning for Charlie to remember her place, but she was the Princess of Hell goddamnit and she wasn't going to let this matter slide.

"That would be correct, yes."

"Exposure therapy."

This time, it was Alastor's eyes that widened like saucers. For the third time that night, a record scratch blared throughout the silence of the kitchen, which might have startled Charlie a few hours ago, but now…

Now she was a woman on a mission.

"Come again?"

Charlie slapped a fist on top of her palm as a manic gleam overcame her eyes. "I read about it from a psychology textbook. Exposure therapy is where you overcome a fear by gradually overcoming it in small doses."

Alastor chuckled—was that nervousness? "If you recall, I only said that sweets weren't for me. I have no fear of sugar."

"Then you wouldn't mind therapy."

"In order to continue, you'll have to receive my consent...which I'm not willing to give."

Charlie made a noise that was a cross between a huff and a groan. Suddenly, a smirk befitting that of any of the common mischievous imps that wandered the bowels of Hell darkened her features.

"I'm not a psychiatrist, so I don't need consent." She leaned towards Alastor as if to invade his personal space. "Some good fashioned peer pressure will do just fine."

Alastor quirked a brow at that.

"Oh, come on! Will a pretty, pretty please do?"

Alastor pinched the bridge of his nose. He did that partly because this wasn't how he envisioned his morning to go and well… he was also shielding his eyes from Charlie's searching gaze.

"Fine. If you must."

"Then open wide!"

"Op—?"

He felt confused and disoriented and then—His mouth closed upon the taste of something so sweet, yet so savory at the same time. The flavor assaulted his tongue; all he could think about was how he could barely chew and swallow the apple omelette down his throat. He was dimly aware of how the fork left his mouth and that Charlie was smiling at him with a grin so wide, he could feel his mouth twitch up slightly in response.

Grins and laughter were highly infectious things.

Finally, his throat's muscles began to obey him and he swallowed, the residue of something sweet and savory coating his tongue.

"I—" He stepped away from the Princess of Hell as he fiddled with his bow tie. "—that was informative." He cleared his throat and was almost back at the exit before Charlie stopped him once more.

"So I'll see you tomorrow early in the morning again?"

He turned around. Slowly. "And what makes you say that?"

Her smirk grew even more mischievous.

"Because… exposure therapy only works if there is repetition and done with increasing doses."

Alastor sighed before sending her a gentle smile. "I look forward to it, dear."