Chapter 62

Touchy Subject

"So the pheromone is two-fold," Eliza mused as Alastor's shadow strategically placed the carney's mutilated head over the entrance to the fun-house. "One part comes from the rose, and the other comes from my scent. I wonder if one can work without the other." When she looked up at Alastor, she noticed his eyes darted to the side. When she heard the sound of clicking behind his back, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Do you know something?"

"I confess it is somewhat embarrassing to admit this," he started, "but when I had to absorb the power you acquired from Olly, it required a certain degree of physical closeness. It would seem that your smokey odor is natural, but it does nothing on its own."

Eliza stopped walking for a moment to stare at him, subconsciously holding the little fox doll to her chest tightly. "Considering I was unconscious at the time, that is very good to hear!"

"Even so, it does seem to be a required component," he continued. "That rose of yours is quite a fascinating piece!"

"I'm not sure why it did that to the imp, though. I wasn't actually interested in him."

"Never underestimate the power of malicious intent, darling!" Alastor told her with a laugh. "After all, it's not like you weren't trying to get his attention!"

"Since when does my body do anything on command?" she asked flatly.

"Ah, but you didn't command it to do anything!" he reminded her with a smirk. "It acted of its own accord; perfectly thematic with your chaotic existence."

Looking up at the pentagram sun for a moment, Eliza gave a small nod of concession. "That's fair."

Tapping his chin, the overlord mentioned, "Still, what a most unusual approach for you. While always good to expand one's repertoire, I must admit this particular skill set seems a bit cheap for you."

With a light scoff, Eliza asked with a raised brow, "Afraid I'm encroaching on your turf?"

"Me?!" Alastor recoiled, putting a hand dramatically on his chest. "I will have you know I have the dignity to use charm and wit! A cheap, flirtatious act is beneath me."

"You've flirted with me to get answers before," she corrected.

Alastor sputtered a bit before stating defensively, "That was different! And it certainly wasn't as overt as what you pulled on that cretin."

"I'll grant you that last part, but that doesn't make it different."

"That, and I wouldn't use that tactic on just anyone," he grumbled, quietly.

"Oh? Would you rather me practice flirting with you?" When the wendigo's eyes glitched, she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "No, that wouldn't work. You would just freeze up. Fizz or Angel could give me some feedback-"

"Their type of flirting is brazen and revoltingly crass," he interrupted, his lip curled up in disgust. "Their style wouldn't suit you."

"It wouldn't suit someone who favors blunt honesty and straightforward intentions?" she asked, curiously.

Alastor tsked and raised a finger. "That doesn't change the fact that you are far more refined than those two."

"An odd compliment from someone who was hoping I'd turn into a dragon to hunt some imps."

Tapping his chin, he mused, "Yes, I will have to find better prey next time."

"I did this as a favor; there won't be a next time."

"Oh, don't be like that," he teased. When he reached down to pinch her cheek, she froze in place. "Admit it; you were having fun!"

"Alastor…" When her voice echoed in the empty space, the wendigo smirked down at her. He removed his hand, but there wasn't an ounce of repentance in his expression when she glared up at him. "That's another thing we need to discuss."

"Is it?" he asked, his innocent head-tilt the epitome of falsehood. Putting a finger to his cheek, he asked, "Have I done something wrong?"

"You know full well we have a no-touch rule." Her tone was calm, but it left a cold tingle in his spine.

"We do?" he asked, looking up as if unable to remember. "Why, I don't recall making that deal." Summoning his microphone, he turned to it while Eliza took a step away. "Refresh my memory, please."

"Sure thing!" Suddenly, Olly's eye opened as wide as it could, turning into a pool of red as the microphone seemed to give off a soft glow.

"Keep your hands to yourself. If I can not touch you, then you can not touch me. Does that sound reasonable?"

Eliza flinched when she heard her own voice emanating from the microphone. Alastor, however, didn't look like he had forgotten anything the microphone replayed for them as he said, "Ha! As I thought. Hardly a true no-touch rule, wouldn't you say?"

Calming down slightly, Eliza cleared her throat before reminding him, "You're the one who noted that technically I have permission to touch you if you break that rule!"

"And?" he asked, cheekily.

She cocked her head at him, her brows furrowed in confusion. "It's a rule of reciprocation!"

"So you admit that I haven't broken any rules! Excellent!" The therapist faltered as he banished Olly into the void, folded his hands behind his back, and started walking towards the hotel once more. "You know you're going to catch flies if you leave your mouth open like that."

Eliza just stood frozen in place, and when he noticed that she wasn't following him, he glanced behind him. Her look of pure shock was priceless, and he even turned around to walk back and wave his hand in front of her. He thought about poking her cheek, but considering the information she was failing to process right now, he decided against it for the time being. Now things would get interesting anyway, as she was about to prove whether or not he was going to regret giving her this revelation.

Fizz had been losing his fucking mind since returning to the hotel. Once he rushed through every floor to confirm that his master had not returned safely, his programming was then procedurally split in two as the hotel managers commanded him to help bandage up the injured guests, but his wires were sparking with the incessant need to tell them all to shove their good will where the pentagram sun don't shine and run back to the circus.

But as he was bandaging Matiu, whose side had a big chunk missing from a cannibal that apparently went in for a snack, the entrance to the hotel opened up, and there stood someone who made processor spark excitedly.

"BOSS!" Shoving the bandages into Matiu's face, he leapt up from the floor and started running. Oily tears fell on those around him, making them dodge with disgusted faces, and when he was halfway to his destination he jumped excitedly, eager to glomp his master into the tile floor. He was midair, eyes focused on the therapist and nothing else, and right as he reached the peak of his jump…

…He was clotheslined by a metal staff.

Alastor pulled in Olly, looking down at the glitching jester with a cheeky smile. "My, my! I knew he had fallen for you, but this is just pathetic!"

"Nah, he's just gettin' in position for her ta have a seat," Angel teased, bending low to look at Fizz. "Ain't that right?" His question was met with avid nodding, and Eliza just shook her head and stepped over Fizz, who was at that moment desperately sad that she wasn't wearing her skirt, although seeing her with her shoes on surprised him. Looks like he won't be in trouble for losing them, after all. Angel straightened up when he noticed something in her arms. "Hey, shrink, what's wit' the doll? Ya steal somethin' on your way out?"

Eliza could feel the burning glare of Vaggie in the side of her head, and she sighed. "I won it, actually."

"Bullshit!" Angel shouted. Fizz stood up with frightening excitement, and the two men converged on her. "Spill; no one just wins at the circus down here!"

"Did you give a carney a good time?" Fizz probed.

"Who'd ya have ta get off?" Angel asked at the same time.

"It's none of your business how I won it," she told them, coldly.

"Oh, come on boss," the jester pleaded. "Don't be like that!"

"Yea, we ain't shamin' ya," Angel added. "Just give us them juicy details!" As he said this, a couple of the guests actually looked over, curious to hear what the buttoned-up therapist did to rip someone off.

"No," she answered flatly.

"Gracious," Alastor scoffed behind them. "I already thought you two lacked decorum, but to demand that someone kiss and tell?"

The two prostitutes turned their heads around, gleaming eyes falling on the wendigo as they both hissed, "What do you know about this?"

"More than you will, from the sound of it," he teased with narrowed eyes.

When they turned to hassle Eliza, they were met with inverted eyes and large wings, the fingers of which were flexing dangerously. Turning back around, they were met with thin black dials resting in blood-red pools, loud static building with every step closer they took.

Angel was the first to crack. "Aw, c'mon! We didn't teach ya how ta tease the pants off of people just ta be blue-balled afterwards!"

"Come on, boss," Fizz begged, "just a little teensie bit of info? Pleeeaaase?"

"No, and you should be used to disappointment by now," she told her servant.

"That was cold," he teased with a mock pout. "But hey, if we're leaving it to my imagination anyway, can I-"

"Nope." Suddenly Vaggie came up from behind him, grabbing his cap-and-bell and dragging him back. "You're supposed to be helping the guests, dumbass."

"H-hey!" he whined, reaching out for his boss but unable to reach her. "I was getting to the good part!"

"I'm sure we're all grateful to be spared your words," Alastor said, leering over him as Vaggie dragged him away.

"I'm not!" Angel piped up. "I wanna hear the good shit!"

"Then why are you listening to him?" Alastor asked, flatly.

"Well then, you got any good stories, cutie?" Angel sassed, leaning towards him.

With a sigh, Alastor waved him away. "Everyone requests romantic radio dramas. So tiresome."

"I ain't said nothin' 'bout romance," Angel told him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"You should call in to my station sometime," Alastor suggested, suddenly.

With stars in his eyes, Angel put his hands on his cheeks as he gasped, "Really?!"

"Really?" Vaggie asked, flatly.

"Yes!" Alastor announced. Then he leaned forward and finished in a matter-of-fact tone, "So that I can drop you."

Angel's face fell in irritation. "F-BEEP! smarmy-a-BEEP! mother f-BEEP!" Angel's eye twitched as Alastor filtered him three times in a row, and in the background Vaggie and Fizz were both cackling.

Nighttime came, and Alastor knocked on Eliza's door. It came as no surprise to him when her voice emanated from next door instead. "In here, Alastor."

There was a bounce in his step as he moved one door over. Curiosity had been gnawing at him all day; what kind of 'prize' would she pick for him? Honestly, he couldn't even begin to guess. Surely not something material; after all, she was broke! And he doubted after their trip to the North Point that the fox doll she 'won' was for him. Probably a small trinket to remind her of her mentor; how sentimental.

He never pegged her to be sentimental. Odd.

Throwing open the therapy room door, he walked in with his arms wide. "There you are! The hour has arrived, my dear." Flaring out his coat-tail, he sat down on the couch and crossed his legs at the knee. "Now tell me, have you decided on my prize for making you laugh?"

The entire exuberant entrance was watched by a mildly amused Eliza, who just stared at Alastor as he made no attempt to hide his enthusiasm. Her poker face faltered a bit as her eyes sparkled, but then she cleared her throat to reset herself. "Yes, I have. Thank you for the extra time."

Either Alastor was getting used to Eliza's poker face, or she was really nervous right now, because he could have sworn he saw her fidget for a moment. How did this woman catch herself so easily? But also, why would she be nervous? Surely it wasn't anything… intimate… "Excellent! After your reaction to my game, I was worried you might simply deny me."

"It was tempting," she admitted with a small smirk, "but no. I did agree to give a reward. But first, I… I have to ask you something."

"Very well."

"Why… Why do I have permission to touch you?"

Alastor blinked. Well, he should have known she'd want this topic knocked out sooner rather than later. Personally, he'd hoped for later, but such is death. Maintaining his easy smile, he stated, "Frankly my dear, it's because I trust you to do so sparingly, and not without cause."

Alastor could hardly believe his eyes for a moment when she visibly flinched. It was only the slightest motion, but it was as clear as the pentagram on Hell's sun. When she made no attempt to speak for a minute, he added, "You don't care to touch others. I, however, absolutely can't stand being restrained, and this blasted rule has outlived its usefulness. As such, yes, you have permission to touch me… preferably under your usual standards for what you consider appropriate."

The way she stared at him made something click in his brain. Her eyes became so curious, so contemplative, and if he wasn't mistaken, a touch predatory. Whatever thought gave her that gleam in her eyes clearly passed, but he'd be damned if it didn't spark his own curiosity. "I will make note of that."

"Wonderful! Then if that's all-" Back to his excitement from before, he dusted off his knee before promptly placing his elbow on it, holding his cheek as he asked, "-may I know my prize, now?" As she made her way to the couch opposite from him, he felt like something had changed. It was ever so small, but she seemed more confident than she had when she started.

Sitting down, Eliza dusted off her lap before folding her hands and sitting back, meeting his gaze steadily. She had felt so unsure before, but something about what he said made this suddenly so much easier.

I trust you…

"Pick a topic."

Alastor just blinked at her for a few seconds before realizing there wasn't to be a follow up statement. "I beg your pardon?"

"You may pick one topic," she elaborated. "Then you have one hour to ask questions related to that topic. If you ask a question that is too far off topic, I am free to refuse to answer, but otherwise I will answer your questions sincerely."

It took every ounce of willpower he had to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. Somehow, despite having no real expectations walking in, she still managed to utterly bewilder him. Even Angel in all his perversion didn't quite manage to be this consistent in his success. Slowly sitting up again, his eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, "Detailed answers?"

She didn't miss a beat. "Depends on the question."

One particular topic stuck fast in Alastor's mind. There were so many, but every time he contemplated something else, it would loop back to the same thing. Over and over his mind seemed to circle back away from other things in favor of something that he has wondered about since the first time it was ever brought up between them; something he enjoyed ever so much, and yet made the therapist so dreadfully uncomfortable despite her clear fondness for it.

"Let's talk about music."

The way she shifted made his inner radio hum pleasantly. Yes, he picked a truly distressing topic; that had been the point. Something about music felt as though it connected to far more than any other choice, and he hoped to learn much. For one thing, he would learn something right now.

How committed are you to your integrity?

At first she simply stared silently at him, appraising him. This hadn't been the direction she had expected, and she knew she was failing to hide her surprise. There was a strange mix of emotions flooding her at that moment, and they were difficult to simply will away. Dread because there were many uncomfortable things tied to music, excitement to possibly enjoy discussing it with someone else who delights in it, curiosity because, well…

"Why music?" she asked bluntly.

"Because I simply can not fathom why such a marvelous subject should make anyone uncomfortable! Music is something to be savored and enjoyed, and yet its the only thing that is on par with the subject of family as far as causing you to run away."

With her brow furrowed, Eliza looked down slightly before taking a deep breath, raising her head and meeting his gaze. "Have you ever enjoyed something so much just to have it ruined for you with constant reminders that you can never meet a certain standard?"

"Ha! My dear, there wasn't a radio host in all of Louisiana who could hold a candle to me. I was the standard!" Even through her mask he could see her deflate slightly, and he tilted his head, curiously. "Who was the standard for you?"

She couldn't stop her lip from curling even if she wanted to. Every time she sang, she heard his voice. Loud. Beautiful. Perfect. Better. Even now, in her fucking afterlife, her vocal exercises always brought back the memories. Despite forcing them back every time, that didn't stop them from haunting her.

You don' have the talent for this…

"My father."

Author's Notes:

So, I recently DMed for the first time in my D&D group.

That. Was. Awesome.

Crash.