"I'm headed out to the studio," Angel declared one evening, sporting his customary Valentino Jacket and sleek black silk shorts. Alastor glanced at him from the bar, his glass of whiskey old fashioned in hand. He couldn't help but ponder over the enigma of Angel's fervent inclination towards assuming a female persona. It eluded his comprehension why one would long to embody a different gender identity, unless it served as a means for Angel to conceal his homosexuality during his mortal days.
In that context, Alastor allowed himself some semblance of understanding, although he had never experienced any personal interest in the realm of physical desires. He had only associated such acts with inflicting pain, violence, and torment upon individuals, like his own mother, merely for existing. It became a tool for him to shame and pass judgment on others based on their affections and inclinations. Alastor's hand clenched tightly as he contemplated his newfound knowledge. The audiovisual revelation he had received exposed Angel as a victim beyond the confines of this hotel. The Overlord viewed and treated Angel as an object to exploit and abuse, reminiscent of how Alastor's father had treated his mother. While Alastor harbored no particular fondness for Angel, nor did he entertain any physical interest in him, he couldn't simply stand idly by while Angel suffered at the hands of someone wielding power in Hell. However, he understood that addressing and handling the situation delicately was paramount.
"Wait," Charlie called out to Angel, her voice filled with concern, as he made his way towards the door. "Angel, could you please consider speaking with your employer about granting you some time off?"
"I'm..." Angel responded, his voice betraying a hint of hesitation. Alastor keenly observed the Spider's uncertain tone, sensing there was something he longed to confess, yet the fears and anxieties inflicted by the Overlord held him back. "I'm not sure if that's possible. I have three films lined up for this week, along with some club performances booked at Club Kaiju."
"Please, Angel, do try to have a conversation with him when you get the opportunity," Charlie implored, her voice filled with sincerity. "I understand the importance of your job, but you've been constantly engaged in these projects and performances every single night for the past month. It feels like it's hindering our chances of redemption. Requesting a month off shouldn't be an unreasonable request."
"I'll see what I can do," Angel responded with a less than reassuring tone. "See you later."
"Be safe, Angel," Charlie said, her voice laced with concern, as the Porn Star stepped outside and disappeared from sight. Alastor continued to savor his old fashioned, while Charlie and Vaggie resumed their respective tasks within the hotel. Setting down his whiskey tumbler, Alastor rose from his seat.
"I believe it's time for my evening stroll," Alastor announced, his voice carrying an air of intrigue. "Fear not, for I shall not be gone for too long."
Angel sullenly puffed on his cigarette, the bitter taste reflecting his current mood. Val had been in an exceptionally foul mood when he arrived at the studio. The filming crew encountered numerous issues, causing a backlog for the editing team, resulting in the cancellation of all scheduled film shoots. This meant Angel had to resort to soliciting strangers on the street. A quick blow job for a mere twenty bucks, a lap dance going for the standard fifty, an hour in the back seat for a cool hundred. If someone had specific kinks, they'd have to pay extra, but anything foot-related was off the table. Females involved would require an additional twenty bucks per woman. As long as Val received his payment, it made no difference how he was ordered to entertain.
He could sense Alastor's presence lingering nearby, just beyond his line of sight. Angel didn't dare delve into what piqued that eerie, smiling freak's curiosity about him. So far, the Radio Demon appeared to be merely observing, but it failed to alleviate his unease. That one morning when Alastor had confronted him, revealing knowledge about what Angel had been truly concealing from Charlie and Vaggie, had rattled him to the core. The proximity to the truth had unnerved him more than he cared to admit.
The truth was, although Angel had never encountered Alastor specifically known as the Radio Demon, he had indeed heard of him. As Vaggie had mentioned, Angel Dust had existed in Hell for a much longer time than she had. Claiming ignorance of Alastor's name or reputation over the seventy years he had spent in Hell would be akin to denying knowledge of Henroin. He needed to be cautious about what Charlie and Vaggie already knew about the Deer Demon to avoid contradicting or revealing the associations he had. Introducing his connection to the Three-Vee's would only complicate matters further. Val was already aware of the hotel's existence and harbored discontent about it, but as long as Charlie didn't pry or interfere, the Overlord was willing to overlook it. Angel simply had to play his role as a loyal employee. However, he knew he couldn't maintain this façade indefinitely, especially with Vox constantly watching him. The time for his true self to be unveiled might arrive sooner than he desired.
Another source of conflict loomed in the form of Henroin and the Ragno Family mafia. Thankfully, Henroin and Alastor were separate issues, but they had the potential to escalate into equally troublesome problems as the Three-Vee's. When the Henroin situation eventually surfaced, Angel couldn't fathom the kind of drama the unsettling Overlord, who had taken up residence in the hotel, might revel in stirring up. And speaking of creepy figures, guess who decided to make an appearance? None other than the literal embodiment of "short, dark, and creepy."
"Never pegged you as the type who's into incest-themed stuff, Fratallino Majore (Little big brother)," Angel snarked, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. He couldn't help but take pleasure in hearing the other spider emit an irritated growl in response to his remark.
"Non puoi ignorarmi per sempre, Anthony, (You can't ignore me forever, Anthony)" Arackniss snarled in a low, his Italian words in a menacing tone, his black fur bristling with intensity. He casually lit up a cigarette, as if aware that this encounter was bound to last a while.
"Quindi cosa ti serve esattamente, Niss?(So what exactly do you need, Niss?)" Angel grumbled back in Italian, his irritation evident in his tone. He wished the other spider would simply depart. Arackniss didn't have the most favorable reputation in the city, after all. "Al mio capo non piace che mi vedano con te, sembra che stia pianificando qualcosa. (My boss doesn't like me being seen with you, it makes me look like I'm planning something.)" He continued, voicing his concerns.
"What's the deal with you being tangled with the Princess?" Arackniss asked bluntly, his question laced with curiosity. He blew out a cloud of smoke, emphasizing that this meeting wasn't meant for idle brotherly chit-chat.
"Oh, are we speaking in English now?" Angel retorted with a snide tone. "For a moment, I thought this conversation would be entirely in Italiano."
"Shut up," Arackniss hissed, clearly irritated. "What I want to know is why you've suddenly become buddies with the Princess of Hell?"
"You heard about that," Angel responded, his tone still carrying a hint of snideness, but now mixed with irritation. A part of him wondered how Arackniss would react upon realizing that their conversation wasn't as private as he had assumed, with the Radio Demon lurking nearby or one of his shadows. Moreover, the area was likely under surveillance from Vox's cameras. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, considering Charlie publicly revealed my involvement in her little project to all of Hell."
"That's what I don't get," Niss grumbled. "I know you're not dumb enough to buy into all this redemption bullshit."
"Pop wants you to find out if it poses a threat to the 'Family'," Angel translated, his voice carrying a hint of understanding.
"The Boss wants to know if your presence there poses a threat to the Family," Niss growled, his voice filled with intensity. "You may have severed ties after you died, but you still swore loyalty to the Ragno famiglia. Therefore, Frattellino, the rules still apply to you."
"In case you're wondering," Angel stated firmly, "I've never uttered a word about the family or my ties to it. And besides, you know I never wanted to be part of that life in the first place. The only reason I pledged was because Pops didn't give me much of a choice. It was either pledge or leave, but if I left... Molly and I would never see each other again."
"See to it that you keep your mouth shut," Niss commanded with a stern tone. "Considering the trouble you've caused, I should just wipe you out right here."
"Oh, here we go," Angel groused with exasperation. "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you? As if carrying the weight of that mistake for over seventy-fucking-years isn't punishment enough. Yes, I fucked up and overdosed, I admit it. Not that I blame you for hating me, because if I were in your shoes, I'd hate me too."
"I remind you because it seems like you haven't learned a damn thing from it," Niss growled with frustration. "I know you're still using, hell, you practically named yourself after it like it's some kind of joke. Do you even have any idea what I had to deal with after you overdosed? After you fucking died?"
"Hey, I didn't choose the name Angel Dust because I thought it was cute," Angel snapped back, his frustration palpable. "And as for why I continue to use, it's for the same reasons I did before. It's all just the same shit, different people... Not that you ever gave a damn anyway."
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Niss asked defensively, his tone sharp. He flicked the butt of his cigarette away, seemingly prepared for a more heated confrontation. Before Angel could respond, a woman's scream pierced through the air, emanating from his Hellphone. Angel retrieved the phone from his jacket, a sense of dismay etched on his face as he recognized the caller's number. Without saying another word, he turned and walked away, answering the call as he distanced himself from Arackniss.
Valentino's voice oozed with a mix of playfulness and suspicion as he addressed Angel. "Angel cakes, what are you doing with that Spider? Seems like you're slacking off from your duties, huh?"
"It's nothing," Angel insisted, trying to downplay the situation. "He just noticed I wasn't getting any customers, so he thought it was a good time to chat. Niss was just checking if I'm not messing with any of their stuff. I'm gonna move to another block now and see if I can get some action..."
Valentino's voice turned darker as he growled his question. "Is that all? It seemed to me like you were having quite the conversation with him, when you should have been out there making me money."
"Come on, Val," Angel tried to appease him. "It's been a slow night, and having Niss around didn't exactly help me make any money. I can still get you the cash, I just need to switch to another street and find some willing clients."
"Why don't you..." Val's voice trailed off over the phone, and soon the familiar sight of the red limo pulled up before Angel. The demon chauffeur stepped out and opened the door for Val, while Angel's stomach churned with unease, knowing that Valentino was in a dangerous mood. Reluctantly, he swallowed the bile rising in his throat and climbed into the vehicle as it drove off, unsure of what awaited him.
As Angel wearily arrived back at the hotel, the exhaustion and weariness etched on his face, everyone was already awake and bustling through their duties at the hotel. Charlie noticed his arrival and was about to greet him, but she sensed the weight of his emotions and decided it was better to stay silent. Her smile faded, and she simply watched him make his way upstairs without uttering a word or offering any acknowledgment, understanding that he needed his space.
Vaggie's voice carried a hint of frustration as she spoke to Charlie once she believed Angel was out of earshot. "Seriously, Charlie," Vaggie groused. "He's just using you, taking advantage of your kindness. We should just cut ties with him and be done with it. It's clear he doesn't appreciate what we're trying to do here."
Alastor interjected, his voice smooth and amused. "Are you so quick to dismiss someone just because you don't particularly like them?" His grin widened into a Cheshire cat-like smile, relishing in pointing out the flaw in Vaggie's logic. "You believe that Angel isn't progressing as quickly as you think he should, and therefore, there must be something inherently wrong with him, according to your expert opinion. So, pray tell, my dear, who do you have in mind to replace our dear Angel Dust? Who can be better suited for redemption?" Alastor's tone was laced with a challenge, putting Vaggie on the spot to consider the consequences of her hasty judgments.
"He's right," Charlie said. "Angel may be the only chance we have at this whole thing being able to work. Everyone else sees this project as a joke."
Vaggie's frustration was palpable as she expressed her concerns about Angel's lack of participation in their planned activities. Charlie listened attentively, her expression filled with a mix of understanding and sadness.
"I know it's been challenging with Angel," Charlie admitted, her voice filled with empathy. "But we can't give up on him so easily. Redemption is a journey, and sometimes it takes longer for certain individuals to fully commit and embrace it. We have to be patient and supportive, even when it feels difficult."
"On the surface, your views may be correct," Alastor chided. "But the reality of it may be a completely different story. I actually have been shadowing Angel for several nights now to see what he is up to. There have been a few occasions, where I found him approached by a rather disagreeable and shady-looking spider demon he seems to have some acquaintance with." Alastor's revelation piqued Husk's interest, and he turned his attention toward the conversation.
"By uh...disagreeable and shady," Husk said uneasily. "You aren't talking about a black-furred spider demon... about maybe a half a foot taller than Niffty with eight cold red-eyes that make him look like he wants to see how long he can make someone suffer before he erases them."
"Ah, Husker," Alastor cheerfully stated, his voice dripping with amusement. "You've managed to encapsulate Angel's companion quite accurately, haven't you?" The radio demon leaned back in his arm chair, a wicked grin playing across his face as he observed the exchange. "A perfect yin to Angel yang, I dare say."
"Wh...," Husk sputtered in shock and fear, his normally gruff voice wavering. "Why would the Spider be meeting with that monster?!" He ran a shaky hand through his disheveled fur, a mix of concern and confusion etched on his face.
"Monster...," Charlie asked, her voice filled with genuine confusion. She looked at Husk, searching for answers, her eyes reflecting her earnestness. "What monster are you talking about? And what's wrong about this Spider meeting with Angel?"
"The spider that 'Legs' was meeting with," Husk explained, his gravelly voice resonating with a tinge of anxiousness. "He is known in Hell by the name of Arackniss. Now, let me tell ya, this guy is dangerous…as dangerous as they come. Arackniss does various jobs for the Ragno Family Mafia, but there's one occupation he's most notorious for - being a hitman. Yeah, you heard me right, a cold-blooded killer. He weaves his web of death, striking fear into the hearts of anyone who crosses his path. He's a master of stealth, creeping through the shadows, waiting patiently for the perfect moment to strike. And when he does, oh boy, you better pray you're not his target. He's got a reputation for being swift and efficient, leaving no trace behind."
Vaggie's normally composed demeanor shattered, her voice rising to a crescendo of panic. "WHAT?" she screeched, her eyes wide with disbelief. She tugged at her hair, pulling out a few strands in agitated frustration. "A hitman? Charlie, this is really bad."
"Once again, my dear," Alastor stated with a sly grin, his crimson eyes gleaming mischievously. "You conclude the situation with information that you are lacking. I don't believe Angel would have anything to gain by hiring someone to assassinate Charlie or anyone in this hotel. Remember, I also overheard their conversation from the shadows. What I have observed, given their attitudes towards one another, is that Angel may have been involved with a rather notorious organization known as the 'Black Hand' during his mortal days. And it didn't seem as though he had much of a choice in that regard."
"Black Hand," Charlie asked not entirely sure what that meant?
Husk put down his bottle of booze, as he began to explain the significance of the nickname "Black Hand" to Charlie. "It's kinda a splinter group of the Italian Mafia," he elucidated, his voice tinged with a mixture of caution and respect. "Or precursor to the American version of them, at least."
Drawing from his encounters with various mobsters throughout his life, Husk stressed the gravity of dealing with such individuals. "I'm no expert on the mob," he admitted, "but I've met enough of them in my day to know they are not people to mess with. They operate in the shadows, their influence reaching far and wide. You sure they weren't planning anything, Alastor?" he asked, his tone laced with concern. Husk knew all too well the dangerous games the mob played, and it made him wary of potential entanglements.
Alastor's grin widened, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes as he interjected, "Not in that conversation, Husker." With a flick of his wrist, he produced a small gramophone, revealing his penchant for preparation. "I did take the liberty of recording it if you care to listen."
Before anyone could respond, Alastor cranked the device before placing a needle on a tiny record, and a scratchy gramophone recording emanated from its speaker horn. The voice that filled the room was unmistakably eerie, low, and chillingly cold. Its tone carried an unsettling air of detachment, as if the speaker would slit someone's throat without a second thought.
That's what I don't get, I know you're not dumb enough to buy into all this redemption bullshit."
"Pop wants you to find out if it poses a threat to the 'Family',"
Charlie's ears perked up as they picked up on Angel's voice within the recording. There was a distinct business-like tone to it, reminiscent of Arackniss's voice, but lacking the chilling coldness that characterized the unidentified speaker. However, there was something more to Angel's voice—an undercurrent of pain or sorrow that tugged at Charlie's empathetic nature.
But what truly captured Charlie's attention was the way Angel used the word 'Pops.' It struck a chord within her, evoking a sense of familiarity and a glimpse into a deeper connection. The choice of that particular term of endearment hinted at a bond, perhaps a paternal one, that added complexity to the situation. Charlie's mind whirled with questions, curiosity burning brightly.
"The Boss wants to know if your presence there poses a threat to the Family. You may have severed ties after you died, but you still swore loyalty to the Ragno famiglia. Therefore, Frattellino, the rules still apply to you."
Charlie's attention sharpened as they detected a subtle emphasis in Arackniss's voice when he used the word "Boss" in the recording, as if implying it was the correct term to be used. However, Charlie couldn't help but notice that Angel's choice of words was equally valid and appropriate.
The contrasting emphasis between the two individuals intrigued Charlie, revealing an underlying tension or difference in perspective. Arackniss seemed to adhere to a more formal hierarchy, emphasizing the need for a specific term of address. On the other hand, Angel's wording appeared to come from a place of familiarity and personal connection, using a term that conveyed a sense of closeness.
"In case you're wondering, I've never uttered a word about the family or my ties to it. And besides, you know I never wanted to be part of that life in the first place. The only reason I pledged was because Pops didn't give me much of a choice. It was either pledge or leave, but if I left... Molly and I would never see each other again."
The recording abruptly ceased, plunging the room into a heavy silence. All the demons present were left to grapple with the weight of what they had just heard, their minds racing to process the chilling revelation that hung in the air.
The impact of the recording lingered, leaving an eerie residue in its wake. Each member of the group was left to digest the implications and unravel the mysteries hidden within the unsettling voice that had permeated the room.
Charlie's voice cut through the silence, her thoughts crystallizing into a revelation. "They…" she began, her voice holding a mix of astonishment and realization. "They're related."
A spark of understanding ignited within her as she connected the dots, her gaze shifting between her companions. The mention of Angel using the term 'Pops' in the conversation had triggered a crucial realization within Charlie's mind. "Pops is a way of saying 'dad', right?" she continued, seeking confirmation from her companions.
Husk's voice cut through the tension, his tone laced with a mixture of sympathy and fear. "I guess," he replied, his gaze fixed on Charlie as if confirming the truth they had just uncovered. The weight of the revelation settled upon him, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
The winged cat demons mind raced as he considered the implications of what they had learned. "And Arackniss called the Spider 'Little brother' in Italian," he added, his voice tinged with a mix of astonishment and concern. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, forming a picture that Husk couldn't help but find both alarming and captivating. "That would mean Spider boy is also related to Henroin."
"Henroin…" Charlie repeated the name, their voice laced with a touch of confusion. The mention of this unfamiliar name sent ripples of curiosity through their mind.
"I don't want to get into it," Husk grumbled, his voice laced with irritation. "Basic info is he's the Head of the Ragno Family, and let me tell you, he's a complete bastard even by demonic standards. Just be glad he ain't an Overlord because if you were already assuming that psychopathic freak Arackniss is a piece of work, Henroin is on a whole other level. And the fact that Henroin has his top attack dog checking to see if the Spider's presence here affects them is all the proof we need to know this place is already on his radar."
Vaggie's brows furrowed as she processed the new information. "Then who's Molly?" she asked, her tone filled with curiosity and confusion. She couldn't help but puzzle out the pieces she had just heard. "Angel mentioned in the conversation that he joined the mob just so he could continue seeing her. So, if Henroin is the head of the Ragno Family, does that mean Molly is somehow connected to them?"
"Don't know," Husk replied with disinterest evident in his voice. "And honestly, it probably doesn't matter now." His dismissive tone suggested that he didn't consider Molly's identity or involvement to be significant at this point.
As the two female demons and Husk engaged in conversation, Alastor decided to make his way upstairs and check on Angel. Something seemed off, and he suspected that the young man wasn't in his room. Niffty had kindly placed a plate of pancakes on the floor beside Angel's door, but it remained untouched. The melted butter had formed a moist glob, and a sugary film had coated the syrup. It was evident that Angel had not acknowledged the kind gesture.
Alastor's acute senses led him outside, where he discovered Angel on the balcony, puffing away on one of those blasted cigarettes. The unfiltered smoke filled the air around them. While Alastor was familiar with the prevalence of such cigarettes during his time alive, he personally preferred the simple, timeless pleasure of smoking from a tobacco pipe.
Angel had evidently made a brief visit to his room, as he emerged wearing a blousy top and a pair of jeans. It was a significant departure from his usual attire, reflecting a more modest style compared to the flamboyant outfits the Spider typically flaunted.
"Ah, what a lovely morning we are having," Alastor remarked cheerfully as he approached Angel on the balcony. He couldn't help but inject a touch of sarcasm into his tone, his signature smile stretching across his face.
"What do you want, Smiles?" Angel asked, his voice dripping with annoyance. Alastor's unexpected presence outside left a bitter taste in Angel's mouth, and he made no effort to hide his displeasure. The demon's unnerving smile only intensified Angel's irritation, amplifying the tension between them.
"Who said I wanted anything," Alastor said, his voice laced with an air of nonchalance. He leaned against the balcony railing, his expression masking any ulterior motives he might have had. "I just happened to notice you were out here," he continued, his tone casually indifferent, "and thought I'd inform you that Niffty has gone to the trouble of bringing a breakfast up for you."
"Tell her thanks," Angel grumbled, his annoyance palpable. "But I'm not hungry at the moment." He crossed his arms, determined to maintain his stubborn resistance against any gestures of goodwill from his fellow inhabitants of the hotel.
"Oh, come now," Alastor chided, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and gentle persuasion. He took a step closer to Angel, his crimson eyes fixed on the stubborn demon. "When was the last time you joined any of your hotel mates for a hearty meal? Seems a shame to leave those hotcakes sitting on the floor, waiting for you to enjoy them."
"Nuggs can have 'em," Angel shrugged with disinterest, his voice carrying a tinge of indifference. "I just want to be alone right now." He turned away, the weight of his emotions evident in his slumped shoulders. The thought of food failed to entice him, his appetite overshadowed by a need for solitude and introspection.
Alastor observed Angel for a moment, his smile fading slightly as he sensed the genuine solitude in the demon's words. He understood the value of personal space, recognizing that sometimes it was necessary for one's own well-being, but company also was good for one's well-being particularly during times you didn't realize you needed it.
"Okay," Alastor said, his voice taking on a rare softness as he pulled out a tobacco pipe, his eyes fixed on Angel. He studied the younger demon with a critical gaze, something he rarely bothered to do. Normally, he didn't care about anyone's personal struggles. Alastor would assist someone in need, but it was always because he despised those who took pleasure in hurting and tormenting others, not out of any genuine concern for the victim.
Yet, something about Angel stirred a curiosity within him, something that defied his usual indifference. It was as if a spark had ignited in Alastor's heart, drawing him towards the troubled demon in a way he couldn't fully comprehend. It went beyond the surface-level interest or detached fascination he usually experienced with others. This was different, deeper.
Alastor's mind wandered to memories long buried, back to the fleeting sensations he had felt towards his mother. But even those feelings paled in comparison to what he felt for Angel. It wasn't a paternal or fraternal connection he was experiencing. No, it was something altogether new and unfamiliar—a desire to comfort, protect, and care for someone on a level he had never known before.
As he packed his pipe with tobacco, Alastor couldn't help but steal glances at Angel, his eyes filled with a mix of intrigue and a growing sense of attachment. It was a perplexing sensation, one that both intrigued and unsettled him. Alastor prided himself on his self-assured nature and his ability to remain detached, but this newfound longing threatened to unravel his carefully constructed facade.
Alastor drew a deep breath and struck a match, lighting his pipe. The sweet aroma of tobacco filled the air, masking the disquiet within his thoughts. He puffed on the pipe, the smoke billowing around him like a gentle haze.
"I thought I told ya I wanted to be alone," Angel growled in irritation as he noticed Alastor had not left the balcony. His frustration at being unable to find solitude flared within him, fueling his curt tone. He had hoped that his request would be respected, allowing him the space he craved.
"And I am honoring your request," Alastor stated, a touch of firmness in his tone. "However, this balcony is public property for the residents of the hotel. So I am free to smoke my pipe out here if I so desire."
Angel's brows furrowed, a mix of annoyance and resignation crossing his face.
"Whatever," Angel grumbled, the smoke from his cigarette curling around his brooding expression. He forcefully stubbed out the cigarette on the metal railing, the faint hiss of extinguished embers punctuating his frustration. With a dismissive flick of his hand, he tossed the butt towards the ground below and turned, towards the hotel's entrance.
"Oh come now, Angel," Alastor teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned against the railing. His smile danced on his lips, hinting at the pleasure he derived from provoking his brooding companion. "What has gotten you in such a salty mood this morning?"
"You tell me," Angel snarled, his patience worn thin as he threw a glowering gaze in Alastor's direction. "You're the one who's been followin' me around."
"Ah yes," Alastor responded, a glint of amusement dancing in his crimson eyes. "I have noticed that your perceptive senses are rather acute. But given the number of years you have survived in this world, and the company you tend to keep, I shouldn't be too surprised." He tilted his head slightly, an air of curiosity lacing his words. "Anything you care to tell me about your companion this evening? A relation of yours, I would suspect."
Angel's gaze sharpened, his wariness resurfacing at Alastor's probing question. He had learned to be cautious, especially when it came to revealing personal connections. The world he navigated was filled with hidden agendas and hidden dangers, and he couldn't afford to let his guard down.
"Niss," Angel shrugged disinterestedly, his guard momentarily lowering as he acknowledged Alastor's curiosity. "He's just my older brother. I've never been on what you would call the best of terms with him."
The admission carried a touch of resignation, a hint of unresolved tension lingering in Angel's voice. His relationship with his brother was a complex one, marred by a tumultuous history that had left scars upon their connection. Family bonds were not always forged in warmth and love, and Angel's experiences had taught him that all too well.
Alastor's eyes sparkled with intrigue, the revelation fueling his curiosity further. "Ah, family dynamics can be quite intriguing, can't they?" he remarked, his voice laced with a twisted delight. "What a delightful opportunity for exploration, my dear Angel. The complexities, the buried secrets, and the depths of resentment. Such exquisite drama!"
Angel shot Alastor a withering glare, his patience stretched thin by the demon's apparent amusement at his expense.
"I see," Alastor responded, a hint of somberness underlying his usually cheerful tone. "Well, that is his loss then. I've never had any siblings myself... well, not any I was acquainted with." He paused, a momentary flicker of vulnerability crossing his face. "My father had another family in town that were his more... shall we say, legal family. I don't know how aware they were of my mother or me... but I wouldn't be surprised if they preferred to pretend we didn't exist."
Angel's eyes softened briefly, recognizing the weight of Alastor's words. Despite their differences, they shared a common thread of familial strife, each carrying the burden of fractured relationships and a sense of abandonment. It was a reminder that even demons had their own depths of pain and longing.
"So you're no stranger to having a bastard for a father," Angel commented, his voice tinged with a mix of understanding and bitterness. He had sensed the depths of pain in Alastor's words, recognizing the shared experience of parental betrayal. "I think you were better off not knowing the halfers. I don't know about other people and their siblings, but in my experience, depending on who they are, brothers and sisters can be your best friends... or your worst enemies."
There was a hint of vulnerability in Angel's voice as he spoke, his own past experiences coloring his perspective on sibling relationships. He had seen both the strength and the destruction that familial bonds could wield, the intricate web of emotions that entangled those connections. His words carried the weight of his own history, the scars left behind by his interactions with his brother.
Alastor regarded Angel with a mix of intrigue and understanding. Despite their differences, they shared a common understanding of the complexities of family dynamics. "Ah, the dichotomy of sibling relationships," he mused, his tone contemplative. "Indeed, they can be a double-edged sword, capable of both supporting and tearing us apart."
Alastor's eyes gleamed with an intrigued curiosity as he absorbed Angel's words. "I wonder, my dear Angel," he mused, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips. "If perhaps there is a subconscious desire within you to seek out and adopt a family of sorts through your involvement with this establishment."
Angel's brows furrowed, caught off guard by the unexpected observation. He hadn't considered the implications of his connection to the hotel in such a way. It was true that amidst the chaos and darkness of his existence, the companionship he had found within these walls had brought a semblance of camaraderie he had longed for.
"What are you getting at, Alastor?" Angel asked, his voice tinged with cautious curiosity.
Alastor's smile widened, his eyes glimmering with a mischievous spark. "Oh, nothing more than an observation," he replied, his voice laced with playful mystery. "But don't you find it fascinating, my dear Angel? How this establishment has drawn together a motley crew of individuals, each with their own stories, their own demons to face. A family of sorts, united by a common purpose."
Angel's lips curled into a snide smirk as he listened to Alastor's musings. "You just keep thinkin' that, Smiles," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But the only thing I'm interested in is the free room and boardin'."
His words held a hint of defiance, a reminder to Alastor that Angel's motives were driven by self-preservation and survival, rather than any sentimental notions of family or belonging. The scars of his past had made him wary and guarded, resistant to the idea of opening his heart to others.
Alastor's laughter rang through the air, his amusement undeterred by Angel's retort. "Ah, dear Angel, always the cynic," he chuckled, his eyes glinting mischievously. "But don't you find it intriguing? The way fate weaves its threads, bringing together such an eclectic group of souls under one roof. There may be more to your story here than you realize."
Angel rolled his eyes, his skepticism palpable. "Save your poetic ramblings for someone who cares, Alastor," he shot back, his tone dismissive.
Alastor's eyebrow arched in a challenge as he continued to prod at Angel's motivations. "The accommodations are a lie you are using to convince yourself," he stated boldly, his voice carrying an air of certainty. "And perhaps others as well, about why you've decided to take part in this place. Yet, I am aware you are also intelligent enough to understand that the hotel, as it is, is doomed for failure. I don't believe free housing is your true reason for being here. Otherwise, you wouldn't be so reluctant about requesting time off from your employer. Or perhaps... leaving him altogether."
Angel's glare deepened, his eyes narrowing in defiance. He refused to let Alastor's words penetrate his guarded exterior, but a flicker of uncertainty danced within his gaze. Alastor's insight, though unsettling, struck a chord of truth that Angel couldn't fully ignore.
"You know, my dear Angel," Alastor said, his tone surprisingly gentle. "Sometimes, it takes a bit of self-reflection and vulnerability to uncover the true reasons behind our choices. It may be worth exploring those deeper motivations, to embrace the possibility of something greater than mere survival."
"I'm going to hit the sack before I need to head back to work this evening," Angel grumbled wearily, his voice carrying a touch of exhaustion. He rubbed at his side, wincing slightly as if in pain. Dark spots were visible through the fabric of his top, but Alastor, though concerned, chose not to pry further. He had already stirred enough unease within the younger man, and it was best to respect his boundaries.
Alastor raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of curiosity and worry. He couldn't help but wonder what Angel was concealing, both from his employer and from the newfound family he had found within the depths of Hell. The signs of discomfort and the dark stains hinted at a deeper struggle that Angel was determined to keep hidden.
"Rest well, my dear Angel," Alastor finally responded, his voice laced with an unusual tenderness.