The first floor seemed to be the actual mansion that had been transformed into the hotel, its winding hallways leading to sitting rooms and dining areas, so she started her expedition on the second floor. Most of the hotel's rooms were now bedrooms, which was expected, further investigation of unlocked doorways led her to a couple of grander bedrooms, a sitting room, an office, and finally, a library. It had high ceilings, was reasonably sized, and dimly lit. She blew dust off a couple of lamps and fiddled with the switches until the room became more suitable.
The bookshelves became a maze the further she walked through them, tall ladders reaching the top of floor to ceiling bookcases. It's shelves were lined with countless collections of novels, biographies, anthologies, memoirs and more. A promising collection of records, DVD's, CD's, film reels and old tapes sat at the back, and she contained her excitement. There was time for all of that later. She collected a small stack of interesting reads before returning to the main sitting area to explore further.
Clover couldn't help but smile at the copy of "Dante's Inferno" sitting on the table before settling down into a plush chair, pulling her feet underneath her and cracking open an old favorite that definitely has it's reasons for being in hell's library. However much time passed during her reading, she wasn't sure, because her book tumbled to the floor as the radio beside her clicked to life with a loud hum of static. The old things sparked to life, a rounded model with curling cherry wood details, and began to hum more pleasantly as the tubing warmed up. Seeing one of these models working was something Clover had never experienced, only vaguely remembering the information she'd learned about them during her time in school, so her attention was quickly grasped.
"Good evening, sinners."
Oh, fuck.
"Alastor?"
The question fell on an empty room, and she felt silly for calling out his name so casually, but her surprise was genuine. Sure, he was the "Radio Demon" and she'd been told that when he'd gotten here he'd "broadcasted his carnage across hell", but Pentagram City seemed to keep up with the changing times of the human world. Televisions sat in windows, people had smartphones, modern society thrived.
It was quite charming that he kept up with his aesthetics, adorable, even.
"Now, I know you've all been terribly busy staring at your flickering technicolor picture shows and causing chaos across the circles, but there's something I would like to say. You are listening, aren't you?"
The volume rose, heavy static washing over the charismatic tone of their host before it cleared again.
"I know our dear city seems like the garden of earthly delights to many of you, eternal torment does have its upsides, doesn't it? But! There are some things even we should not abide by, not even as the vagrants we are."
Distortion warbled the words, turning the notes in the background music sour.
"So, I would suggest that many of you harlots and heathens think as much as you can before preying on those of fairer means. You wouldn't want to run into any trouble, like my dear friend here-"
Clover winced, the drag of shoes across the floor and the thud of something heavy landing echoing through the speaker as feedback squealed. From behind the cheerful voice of Alastor came muffled cries that turned to screams with a wet squelch.
"-who fumbled greatly tonight, sinking down into the depths of incivility while in the rather unfortunate presence of a charming young woman and myself."
The thought of whether Alastor dated or not stayed in the forefront of her mind for far too long, even when the statement was punctuated with a sick ripping noise that he let hang in the air afterwards. Soon, though, other questions came barreling through the forefront of her thoughts. What had this guy done? Who had Alastor been with? What was he going to do to him? This was all a little macabre, even for Clover's goth sensibilities, but she couldn't stop listening. She wasn't even sure she could turn the radio off if she tried.
"Perhaps next time, you'll keep your claws to yourself my friend! We wouldn't want to ruin a new pair! A lesson well learned, I should hope. After all this effort on my part, it would be a shame if we had to do this all again!"
A roaring laugh track sat empty for a moment, barely covering the crunch of bone and wet splattering of blood. It was hard for Clover to picture Alastor actually doing something like this, he was always so proper, clean and charismatic, getting his hands dirty was a horse of a different color entirely.
But, the red suit made more sense now.
"I suppose, listeners, you are wondering whether we shall see this lucky bastard on our filthy streets again. Sadly, you will. Some meat is just too rotten for consumption, you understand. We must have our standards!"
And so did the teeth.
Clover was having a hard time discerning her feelings; she felt transfixed by his voice, curiosity bubbling in her chest at the off morality play that was taking place live on air, but she felt she should be more afraid of him now. Looking down at the red knit of her sleeves, Clover wondered how much she had already changed here, or if this had been who she was all along. Her thoughts were too loud to hear the door opening over, her attention drawn back towards the radio as a humorously peppy jazz filled the room over the sounds of slaughter.
"How the fuck can you listen tuh this shit?"
Her squeak went unnoticed, Angel Dust walking into the room while idly looking around before flopping down onto the couch across from her.
"I don't think I can, it turned on by itself."
"Huh, guess I neva' was around these old t'ings when he got goin. I t'ink he used tuh' do them a lot more."
"So, is his whole thing just an aesthetic or is he a product of his time? He wouldn't tell me."
"Oh, Al? He plays up the who t'ing but he's certified vintage toots, he's like, ya' grandfather's grandfather kind of old."
Angel sat forward quickly, a wide smile breaking across their face as they waggled their eyebrows flirtatiously.
"What, ya into that kind of t'ing?"
"You mean older guys? Husker already made that joke, try again. Alastor doesn't look any older than would be appropriate."
"Too bad he ain't into being "inappropriate"."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Look, when a guy gets offered gettin' off and he refuses, ya know they're of a different breed."
Clover couldn't help but laugh, even as the idea permeated in the back of her mind.
"Maybe he just wasn't into it."
"Honey, look at me. Everyone wants a piece of this."
"You're visually pleasing, I will agree. And the accent is a nice touch."
"Thanks toots, but I don't swing your way."
"I swing both ways with a door that's got a key, so don't worry about it."
"Huh?"
Angel Dust's confused expression sent her into another fit of giggles, shaking her head to wave off her comment before returning to looking at her new companion. A curiosity danced in her mind, a polite one at least.
"Hey, can I ask you a question?"
"Shoot."
"Bang. Anyway, what are your pronouns."
"My what now?"
"What do you go by when other people talk about you?"
"Uh, shit, lots of things? Slut, whore, pup, babe, sugah'-tits, assh-"
"No, like, 'he' or 'she' or 'they', honey."
"Oh! I'm not a broad, I know these can be a little confusin'-"
The high pitched squeak that happened when Angel Dust groped their chest was another mystery all together, one to be solved later. They continued.
"I'm just a guy, a really fuckin' gay guy with a drag streak, but a guy."
"Noted, thank you."
"Now, I gotta' question for ya'."
"What's up?"
"The fuck did you do to end up stuck here with me?"
Clover sighed, shifting in her seat until her back was towards the still-squealing radio and studying Angel Dust for a long time before talking. He sat as patiently as he could, shuffling his feet idly as he waited.
"I don't know why I keep expecting people to not ask that question."
"Ya' don't have to answer, but you are stayin' in a hotel that's supposed to redeem us sinners, so what ya' did kind of matters I guess. Ya' just seem like a nice gal, was wondering what ya did to get your fluffy-ass down here. My first guess is you killed a boyfriend of sumthin', crime of passion kind of stuff."
"I wish."
It was quiet for a long moment as Clover decided whether she was going to trust this boy or not, whether she was going to reach out for this friendship to help her with her time here or whether she was going to keep it all bottled up just in case it made her weaker. The idle noises from the radio inched their way back into her consciousness, an echoing statement from their charismatic host repeating there.
"I would suggest that many of you harlots and heathens think as much as you can before preying on those of fairer means"
Of fairer means felt like a statement that applied to her, especially now in her fuzzy-prey form that highlighted the parts she so desperately was trying to hide here. Was it already obvious who she was? A frightened animal, timid and soft in a world of predators; painfully alone. Another look at the spider-demon across from her stressed the analysis; why a spider? They were mostly harmless creatures, only lashing out when in danger and helping keep the balance in an ecosystem.
Angel Dust was another mystery, and something about him told her it would be far easier to learn with a fair give and take with him, something about him was painfully familiar.
"You can't tell anyone else, I don't want it to- I don't want people to use it against me."
"I'm in the business of keepin' secrets, I won't tell a soul, I swear.'
He crossed his heart for good measure, leaning into her with interest as his hands met his cheeks with an adorable squish.
"I...decided that I wasn't going to live anymore,...and threw myself off a building."
"Fuckin- Why?"
"I'd wanted to more than once in my life, and it finally came to a point where my life felt completely torn apart. Everything that had happened convinced me that I was going to be miserable no matter what I did, and then the person I thought was promising to move on from that in my life completely destroyed it and told me that the last two years had been a complete facade, and took absolutely everything from me."
"Shit…"
Angel stood, quickly crossing the room with a step over the table before perching himself on the arm of her chair. A hand landed on top of her head, flopping her ears into her face before she was patted awkwardly. He was quiet for a moment, but finally he spoke again.
"...I overdosed. My life was pretty sad too, it's hard bein'gay the way I grew up, and the family buisness was tough. I...kinda' get it? I was so drugged up half the time it was hard to feel anythin' like all that, but I was drugged up for a reason, ya know?"
They fell silent for a while, just sitting in each other's company as they each absorbed what they had shared. It wasn't uncomfortable, it was heavy, full of sorrow that so many people could relate to but was so hard to find in others. Finally Angel spoke again, his voice soft and thoughtful.
"Men are fuckin' trash."
"Most of them, yeah."
With a soft fizzle of static, the sounds from the radio stopped, and all was quiet for a moment. Then, with all the bombastic personality she'd learned to expect from Alastor, that voice chimed in once again.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, tomorrow's weather!"
And with an unattractive snort, Clover laughed.