Four hours.
Four fucking hours.
That's all she guessed she was able to sleep until she was awake again, staring at the odd patterns of the wallpaper until they warped before her tired eyes. When breathing through numbers proved fruitless, she rolled out of the tousled bed, barely missing banging her foot on the tall four posts as she stumbled to the pile of folded clothing she'd worn earlier in the day. She tugged the gifted sweater over her pajamas, feeling alright with someone possibly seeing her in the silken black shorts that hung to her lower thighs if it came to it. A new pair of sneakers slipped on over bare feet, and she only briefly paused to ponder at the pads of pink that decorated the balls and heels of them before quietly slipping into the hallway.
She'd planned to just sneak into the kitchen, perhaps find a library or media room with something to entertain herself, but things rarely went as planned for her it seemed. As soon as she'd stepped onto the second landing to continue down to the first floor, sounds of soft music and mumbled talking met her pair of flopping ears. She felt them twitch forward, as pulled by interest as she was as she continued her descent. The mystery of the noise was quickly solved, Clover pausing before the last few steps as she surveyed the scene.
It was late, the lobby dim and empty except for the lights on over the combo bar/concierge desk. The darkness outside of the small lights keeping the stairwell safe and the circle emanating from the bar seemed to move in the corners of her vision, but all was still when she focused on what might have been there. She forced her focus back to the moving figures she could be certain were actually there.
Alastor sat at the bar, chatting idly over the top of a newspaper while Husker slouched across the bar in front of him. Neither of them looked up when she stepped down into the lobby, but the twitch of the fluff on top of Alastors head towards her meant at least one of them knew she was there. It was only when she slid into the empty bar seat, making sure to leave one between her and the tall red-coated demon beside her, that Husker took notice of her. The awkward silence as feline eyes looked her over was quickly broken by the flick of a radio station and the cheerful tone of Alastor, though noticeably softer than it had been during daylight.
"I see sleep has escaped you, my dear, perhaps a little refreshment and some company will ease your thoughts tonight."
Clover couldn't help but watch him as he spoke, watching the small quirk that drew his smile further upward before his eyes turned to hers. When it became obvious that he was waiting for a reply, she quickly cleared her sleep hoarse voice before speaking.
"Sleeping has never really been something that comes easily. Some things don't change down here, I guess."
"Join the club sweetheart, whaddaya want?"
Husker had pushed himself upright, quickly and unknowingly asserting the fact that he was tall as hell, before turning to fiddle through the bottles of cheap booze in the near prohibition era bar.
"Uh, I'm fine th-"
"It's complimentary for my guests, I can assure you."
She blinked at Alastors interruption, catching his knowing glance as he folded his newspaper and placed his hands on the bar's countertop. After that disguised invitation, it seemed rude not to order anything.
"An… Old Fashioned then, thank you."
"Make it two, Husker."
"I'll make it three just to get you to shut the fuck up."
Alastor's smile didn't falter even as Husker snapped back, fading back into the apathetic surprise he held at the order before turning to complete it. Once the drinks had made their way to waiting hands, another silence fell over the bar, Clover taking to sipping at the cheap bourbon to fill the void while Alastor flickered through radio signals idly before settling on a soft tune she recognized. The seemingly casual display of power struck the cords of curiosity in her, the vibrations overpowering her nerves she set down her glass and stepped into whatever dance those wavering melodies led her to.
"So… Radio Demon, huh?"
"I see Vagatha has, well, fully introduced us. How terribly impolite of her."
"I asked, she answered, you can blame me for it."
Alastor turned her direction at that, the newspaper disappearing with a pop as static began to distort the pleasant tune he'd been playing.
"Curiosity killed the cat, dear."
"Fuck you."
Clover barely realized that the soft huffing curse that came from Husker, too caught up in the daring grin and soft threat of the sharp teeth behind it. Despite her blood running a bit cold, she found a bit of fight in her.
"Good thing I've become a rabbit now, isn't it?"
She'd hoped that the comment would land, but she hadn't expected the roaring laugh that followed it. Alastor doubled, slamming a hand on the counter with a sharp smack that was only muffled slightly by red tipped gloves as the short bark of a laugh that had escaped him startled them all. Husker looked near terrified, as near as his face could get to the emotion, slitted eyes darting between the two of them as he poured himself another drink. Clover wasn't quite sure what to do to move the conversation forward, but she didn't seem to need to worry, Alastor continued with new vigor.
"Well, if it's a proper introduction you had been looking for darlin', you've found it. I do not prefer the simple title this world's inhabitants have given me, so I would rather you continue to use my name, clear?"
"Understood. Is the radio personality thing something you did before you d- before you came here?"
"I'd had many years to perfect my 'thing', as you so aptly put it, before it became my calling here.".
"And you've been here a while, haven't you?"
"My residence here is firmly established, yes."
Husker pushed another glass in Alastor's direction, pausing a paw over Clover's half empty one. She downed the rest, fully aware that both men were watching her with varied levels of interest, before gently handing the empty glass to him with a nod.
"Do I get a time period or am I going to have to guess?"
"Oh, a game! I quite like the sound of that. You're welcome to sleuth out this little mystery if you please."
"I can't tell if you're being serious or dismissive, either way you've got an awfully flirtatious way of getting around it."
Now Husker chuckled loudly, slamming his glass down before pouring himself yet another while joining the conversation.
"Careful sweetheart, you keep talking like that and I'm gonna think you've gotten yourself into trouble with more than one older guy."
"Something like that."
Husker froze at the soft addition, looking at her with what felt, to her, like regret before finishing constructing his third beverage. He cleared his throat before leaning against the bar, elbows braced against the cherry wood as he furrowed his brow at her.
"How the hell did you get yourself down here anyway?"
Blinking at the sudden question towards her, Clover gaped at the cat demon for a few seconds while she ran through the options she had. Was this question genuine, or a way to get to a soft spot? She didn't have a reason to be wary of any of these people, but her predicament flashed warning signs across her mind. She'd vowed earlier not to start judging people before getting to know them, even in death. Would her death make them think less of her? She had no idea what either of these men had done to get them down here, though with Alastor's reputation she was sure it wasn't as simple as stealing gumballs. Husker's demeanor and placement as the hotel's bartender and pseudo concierge made her think his sins lay more in the gluttonous sort.
Playing coy and flirting her way through the conversation had gotten her this far, it wouldn't hurt to continue.
"I've been under the impression that that's a question you're not supposed to ask down here."
"Listen kid, I'm just lookin at ya' and I can't for the life of me figure out what a gal like you could've done to piss off heaven."
"Now Husker, don't bother her. You should know better than to underestimate people."
The warning in Alastors tone didn't go unnoticed, Clover once again drawn to him as the static faded and his voice cleared, sounding more like he was sitting next to her instead of transmitting himself through radio lines. Husker didn't seem to care, rolling his eyes and grumbling as he reformulated his question.
"Look, not like I fuckin' care if you're a harlot or a junkie or whatever, but you're a fuckin' rabbit so I'm inclined to think that you're not exactly a hardened killer."
"And you're a cat so I'm inclined to think you're-"
"Lazy, unsociable, unreliable, self cen-"
"Emotionally complicated."
Husker laughed, short and full of emotion that was hard to discern through his uncaring exterior before sinking down further into the bar. Alastor rejoined the conversation, setting his glass down with a clunk before slowly sliding it across the bar towards it's tender, purposefully drawing out the grinding of glass on wood.
"It's awfully ignorant of you to assume that one's form displays their character, Husker, when we all know that this place is for punishment. I would have thought you knew better by now."
The annoyed twitch of the tufts on top of Alastor's head drew her attention once again, and for the first time Clover really studied him as a person. Her first look at him had just blinded her with his radiant personality, the sharp scarlet he dressed himself in presenting himself as one giant warning sign. Now that she looked again, she took note of the little things that she hoped her liquor riddled mind would remember later, before settling on the obvious, familiar horns that sat on top of his head.
"You're a deer?"
Alastor only smiled, eyes turning to the mounted skulls above them pointedly before turning back to her.
"You are set on knowing me, aren't you?"
"Just making mildly-friendly conversation."
Husker snorted, joining in once again in their banter.
"Geez kid, were you fuckin' narc or something in life?"
"Does working for a newspaper in college count?"
Both men laughed, the thick air that had settled seeming to lift as Alastor took a bottle from across the bar. It wasn't obvious when exactly the three small glasses had appeared in front of him, but Clover tried not to think too much about it as each was filled. Alastor slid one in her direction, eyes narrowing as his smile widened and began again with all the energy of classic radio renewed.
"If you truly want to play this game, then I hold no issue with it. Two questions, from each of us, four in total to the other, and if you refuse to answer then you drink. Sound fair enough?"
"There's no winning or losing?"
"Not unless you lie again, cher."
The soft green glow that hung around him was echoed in the suits that decorated the bar, the creaking of bones drawing her eyes once again to the skulls that hung above them. She lingered on the stag, swearing she saw its antlers twist ever so slightly before her attention was regained by an apathetic groan.
"This is stupid."
"Well, Husker, you don't have to play with the lady if you don't want to. This is a gentleman's game, after all, since honor is involved, perhaps it would be best if you abstained."
"Alright asshole! I'll fuckin' play, and you're first!"
Scarlet eyes turned to hers, and after a few moments of her dumbly staring at him, the quirk of Alastor's brow was enough to signal her that he was waiting on her agreement to his little game. As much as the game seemed to be thought out to please her, she couldn't help but feel like he was planning to get something out of this as well. But, she didn't plan on lying, and she had nothing to lose. So, she agreed.
"Sounds fair."
"Excellent! Now Husker, since you so kindly asked me to begin this occasion, I've been wondering how you've been enjoying your new employment."
"Fuckin'- It's fine, I guess. Free booze and a place to sleep isn't something to scoff at."
"Asked and answered! Now, my dear-"
Clover could feel her hair stand on end as he turned to her, getting the sudden sinking feeling that she only experienced when she felt like someone seemed to have her figured out before she was prepared for it. Like someone interrogating her for something she was in trouble for that wasn't aware she'd done. Alastor paused for a moment, seeming to think as the static around him crackled before leaning into her in interest.
"What is it specifically, that you think, damned your soul?"
It was getting hard to breathe, having him so close to her. His height made it easy for him to crowd into her space with just a shift of his weight, setting one foot down on the floor with a sharp clack of shiny shoes. It took all of her resolve, fueled by cheap liquor, not to sink down into her seat and break away from his gaze. Even as her heart rattled in her ears, something about that smile begged her to play his game.
"I threw someone off a building, I think that would kind of seal the deal."
It wasn't a lie, just a version of the truth.
"Shit kid.."
Clover ignored Husker's sigh, too caught up in watching Alastor. He seemed to think for a long moment before returning to lounging in his seat properly, turning on Husker with that charismatic smile again.
"Your turn, my friend!"
Husker seemed immune to Alastor's bombastic personality, sighing deeply before turning to Clover with a grimace.
"How old are you, kid?"
"Twenty-five."
"Fuck, you look younger."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Is that your question?"
Clover couldn't help but smile, shaking her head at the odd banter she'd been able to keep up with the apathetic barkeep before settling into thought. Her lip caught between her teeth and she chewed as she formulated something to ask him, cursing herself for being more obviously interested in the red devil beside her than anything else. Wearing her emotions on her sleeve wasn't something she'd ever be able to stop, it seemed. Finally, she sat up with a start, finding her question in the answer's she'd already been provided with.
"Why do you care about who I am or why I'm here?"
The older demon fumbled, scowling harder than she'd seen so far. The stubborn glance down into his glass made her think he was going to back out of the question, but with a heavy sigh he answered.
"You remind me of someone, kid. And you're too damn polite."
"Ah, Husker, is there someone that cold heart of yours is softened to that I'm not aware of?"
Alastor's question seemed to hit a sore spot. The glass thudded loudly against the bar as Husker downed his shot, glaring at Alastor over the rim before pouring himself another. Alastor didn't seem phased, watching with idle interest as Husker drug his wrist across his mouth and pointed a claw in his direction.
"What the hell are you gettin' out of this game anyway, I know you Alastor, this isn't just some party game."
"Why, I'm just learning about our new guest! It's not often that I make the acquaintance of someone so new in town so quickly and without outstanding circumstances!"
"You tryin t-"
"I believe it is the lady's turn, Husker."
Clover blinked, looking between the two as she tried to think of a question to ask. A million of them flashed through her mind, all simple questions with simple answers. Her brain began to wrack through her education, trying to pull points in time to puzzle together this man with, in a way that would be slightly more entertaining for all of them. Everything fizzled as she grasped for a clever idea, and she could feel her face growing hot the longer Alastor stared expectantly at her.
"You can always skip your turn, Cher."
The term of endearment echoed through her ears, and she immediately became annoyed that she hadn't picked up on it before. The slightest twang of the syllable felt too familiar to her to leave alone, and another look at the décor that sat around her solidified her confidence that her next assumption was correct.
"You're from Louisiana, so it's not a long jump for me to guess that you've got something to do with voodoo, whether it was in life or part of your power now, am I right?"
"That was far closer to a collection of correct statements than a question."
"So, they're all correct?"
Alastor looked at her for a long moment, a sharp tilt of his head punctuating the intensity of that look before he straightened sharply and rapped his knuckles on the counter.
"And here I thought you were going to ask questions like my dear friend here. 'How old are you?', 'Why are you in hell?', or that query you had earlier. You're full of surprises my dear! Your assumptions are correct, though I do wonder how you so easily guessed-"
"You have an accent, very slightly, that falls away from the Transatlantic one. It came out when you slid into French. I lived far enough south to know Creole when I hear it."
She was just relaxed enough on her liquor to drop her own voice back into the accent she'd grown up with, the familiar twang falling easily from her lips. It was far more farmer than belle, and wasn't something she'd ever been proud of growing up. After beginning to work out of it in her early teen years, it had faded into a much more neutral tone that disguised itself well in most situations.
Her little trick with it drew another sharp laugh from Alastor, who straightened before turning back to Husker with a flourish.
"Your turn!"
"I just went you-! fuck. Fine."
Husker sighed deeply, looking between the two of them before suddenly sitting up straighter than he had all night and turning to Clover. She could almost hear the click of a light going off inside his head, though she wasn't quite sure what illuminating query was coming. A sharp tug on her sweater sleeve drew her attention from the once again flickering channels of Alastor's radio, which seemed to quicken as Husker shot a confident glare in his direction before turning back to her.
"You buy this when you went shopping with the other broads? I swore you were wearin' it on your way out of here."
"No, it was on my bed after I took a shower, Vaggie said she didn't know where they came from."
"Well, ain't' that interesting. S' a good color on her, isn't it Al?"
"You've no more questions for me now, Husker."
"Then drink, asshole."
For what felt like an eternity, all was quiet except for the rising static that had completely warped the music Alastor had been playing. The two men beside her were caught in what could only be described as an increasingly tense staring contest, the air around them seeming to swell in the way a summer heat warps the sky in summer. Clover felt like backing away, but felt like any movement at all would startle them both and draw herself into this little confrontation.
Finally, Alastor turned to her with a surprisingly pleasant expression, the radio turning to a pleasant swing with a loud click as the air seemed to clear instantly. It made her head spin.
"Why of course it is! It's a lovely color, but you would look much brighter with a smile my dear! You're never fully dressed without one!"
The tap of his finger underneath her chin felt like touching a live wire, her entire body jolting at the contact. His hand retracted quickly, hovering between them as his fingers rolled together. Clover couldn't stop her own fingers from pressing into the place he'd touched in that one gesture. Maybe it was the sinking feeling that settled her heart into her stomach, maybe it was the warmth that burned through her skin and down her nerves, or maybe it was just the alcohol proving more influential on her than she'd thought, but the question that had been sitting dormant at the back of her mind since Vaggie had warned her tumbled out without hesitation.
"How often do people actually try to get to know you, and listen?"
Alastor froze, his fingers stuck curled in on themselves hovering between them. A short intake of breath told her Husker was equally still on the other side of the bar, but she didn't care to look at his expression to know that her question had struck something in the so-called 'Radio Demon'. The squeal of feedback that tore through the melody that surrounded them spoke volumes, as did the emptiness that seemed to unsettle his constant cheerful confidence. For a second, there was a flash of something more human sitting next to her than he seemed willing to show, and it was gone quicker than it had appeared. Dark eyes refocused on her, causing her ears to twitch to attention as he spoke in slow, uninterrupted syllables.
"Not very often."
"That's a shame."
His eyes only narrowed, a brow raising in interest keeping the expression from bordering on terrifying as his head tilted at her. Husker cleared his throat, but neither of them turned their attention towards their bartender. Clover could only stare back, blinking behind her glasses as this demon, this man, held fast to her gaze. When he finally spoke again, her heart felt like it stopped all over again.
"You're not afraid of me, are you?"
Warning signs went off in her head, flashing as red as eyes that flickered over her form. The danger behind the question sat heavy in the seat between them, begging her to reach out towards it while screaming to run away. She felt her fingers twitch towards the still-full glass that sat before her, and Alastor's gaze shifted quickly towards the movement before returning to firmly locking her in place with their stare. Something odd sat behind them, but through the wild whirring wheel of options that was her current consciousness, it was too hard to discern.
It wasn't fear, she had no idea what Alastor was truly capable of. She knew who he was as an icon in this world, as a being of hell, a bedtime story. It was hard to be truly afraid now, her blind panic having fully worn off after walking the streets alone. There was nothing to lose now, right? She had no true vices to pray on, nothing to give, nothing to take. Clover wasn't able to fear him, because she didn't know him, and she'd known so many people before that had truly torn her apart that she felt she'd gotten a pretty good grasp on noticing when a person's intentions turned sour.
Nothing about him, aside from the persona he put on and the gossip that was perpetuated around him, made her afraid. In fact, he'd already figured out her feelings towards him.
"No, just curious."
Clover stood, feeling herself fall a few inches to the floor before she gained her balance. She wobbled, just a bit, and Alastor stood on what seemed to be just pure politeness. Picking up the neglected shot, she downed the glass to still her rapidly beating heart, setting the glass rim-down on the counter before regarding Husker with a short nod. It was met with a short laugh and a darting glance between her and the bar's other patron, and Clover followed the glance with a smile. From where this confidence in death came from, she didn't know. It was entirely possible it was fueled by alcohol, or just a manic expression of her way of dealing with the knowledge of her situation, but either way she felt comfortable in riding out this high as long as she could. A short salute with two fingers was sent in Alastor's direction before she stepped back towards the darkness between her and the staircase, a final well meaning flirt before the shadows began to swallow her.
"Goodnight."