"Hey, hobo man! Hey, Dapper Dan! You've both got your style, but brother you're never fully dressed without a smile!"
The quick change in the noise of her room is what woke her, the subtle puttering of rain and soft melody shifting into the boisterous sound of a familiar song.
"Your clothes may be, Beau Brummelly, they stand out a mile! But brother, you're never fully dressed without a smile!"
Clover blinked at the dim light of her bedroom, confused for a moment before she turned over to check the screen over her laptop. Her fingers fumbled as she turned down the audio, momentarily pausing it completely and bringing up a random menu before turning it down to a more tolerable level. The slightest glow of warm light streamed from around the thick black curtains that hung on her single window, so her worry that she had overslept completely or only slept into the early hours of the morning died quickly. Squinting at the computer screen, she reached for the glasses she had placed on top of the keyboard and glanced over the related videos of HellTube. If the algorithms of Hell's internet were anything like they were in the land of the living, there was a good chance that it had noticed her recent watch of the movie that featured the current song, but the sharp change seemed odd to her. The related videos didn't look like her search history aside from the few recordings of radio drama broadcasts, and instead were scattered with classic songs and musical selections. She left it alone as she rolled herself out of bed, shrugging her shoulders into a stretch that caused her to hum into the empty air.
The room was left dark as the red sweater made its way over her bedhead, sneakers folded at the heel as she padded quietly down to the kitchen to collect some semblance of a breakfast. A cup of coffee was quickly brewed in the French press she had tucked away in her personal kitchen cabinet, and she made note of the early afternoon time that ticked on the clock as she waited for her pastry to warm.
Clover returned to her bedroom with a plate she would usually only offer herself in times of self-love, warmed pastries, fruit, hard boiled eggs, leftover balsamic tomatoes from Angel making them dinner a few nights prior, and small bowls of jam and butter balancing on her open palm as she nudged her door open with her hip. The coffee was left to cool on her bedside table, Clover idly munching on an orange slice while she turned on her shower to a pleasant boil and stepped inside. The music changing in her room again was something she was only vaguely aware of as she pondered the logistics of her own body, thanking the fact that her skin was now more akin to the feel of velvet than the fur those like Angel Dust or Husker sported and that she no longer had the need to shave in this afterlife.
Wasn't hell supposed to be about eternal suffering?
Her hair was roughly towel dried, Clover unsure of what to do with it without knowing what she was going to be wearing tonight. The lack of already having her outfit planned and in front of her was gnawing at her nerves, but she tried her best to put the trust in Alastor to have it all figured out. She left her hair to air dry, wrapping herself in a fluffy black robe and returning to her darkened bedroom. By this time, her coffee was a pleasant temperature to drink, and she sipped it slowly as she took her time turning on the dimmer lamps beside her bed. The flick of the switch brought the bulb to life, and Clover froze. She could have sworn that the shadows around her bed shrunk back with purpose, the sinking darkness's retreat more animated than normal, but her eyes landed on the package at the foot of her bed. It's pattern was a textured black, sealed nicely with a red ribbon tied into a satisfying and symmetrical bow. How long it had been sitting on her bed in the darkness, she wasn't sure. Her coffee was set beside the novel on her bedside table as she pulled the box into her lap and turned it over in her hands. A small card was tucked through the ribbon, signed in a winding script.
"For tonight."
The ribbon fell away as soon as she tugged on it, falling across her lap and allowing her to lift the lid slowly.
"Holy shit."
Clover covered her mouth at the exclamation despite being alone, staring down at the box's contents. Inside was a folded fabric of the deepest red, covered in intricate beading with accents of lace, and she couldn't help but run her fingers over it. On top of it was a note, clearly written with a quill and in a different, neater script than the message that had been outside the box.
"From: Alastor."
Barely moving the fabric found her another note set on top what she assumed were corresponding undergarments, vintage in fashion, which read;
"From: Rosie."
It all came together quickly. Her measurements had already been taken by Rosie, so it was an easy task for Alastor to request something to be made for the event from her without her knowing. The true mystery was how long he had planned this in advance exactly; he acted as if the party they were attending had been suddenly sprung on him, but the convenience of her ending up in Rosie's shop and being able to have something made in such a short time added interest to the story. The notes inside the box were surely cheekily written by Rosie, the lack of name on the outside of the package pointed to Alastor's flair for dramatics. Clover smiled, tucking all three notes into her bedside table before standing and removing the garment entirely.
It fell to her knees, swinging gracefully as she held it in front of her. The classic style of the 1920's was replicated in truth, the dropped waist and pleated skirt creating the straight silhouette that she related to the decade. It's bodice was beaded in black from bust to hip, tracing the lines of the dark lace overlay that hung delicately against the deep red of the fabric beneath. The pleats of the skirt swung with every movement, the fabric heavy with quality in her palms. There was no doubt that it was incredibly expensive, probably worth more than the old car she'd left behind.
Clover had never owned something so extravagant in her life.
She placed it gently onto a hanger, hooking it over the back of her bathroom door to admire while she unpacked the rest of the box's contents. A length of pearls was tucked inside a small bag alongside a classic headband in matching colors and a pair of short gloves, the rest of the box full of gently folded undergarments in silken black. Clover stared at the dress while she finished her breakfast, only idly aware of the shift in music as songs came and went. She finally snapped herself out of it to walk her dishes downstairs, giving a short wave to Niffty and Charlie talking at the kitchen table before returning to her bedroom.
Clover couldn't do much but lay around anxiously until the time to leave grew closer, shifting between reading her book and scrolling through Hell's media to pass the time. Finally, she felt it was a rational amount of time away from meeting up with Alastor to start getting ready, planting herself in front of her bathroom mirror with an image of herself in mind. Her chin-length hair already gave her an easy option to match her dress in aesthetic, so she put off tackling it until later. Makeup was another story, her worry that she would go too overboard eating at her even as she began the process.
She kept her face simple, painting her cheeks lightly with rouge and allowing the habits of her younger self to apply dark eyeshadow and liner, hopefully more finesse than she did at fourteen. The product of her hard work caused her eyes to look more melancholy and doe-eyed than they already did, round and bright against the darkness around them, an almost acceptable interpretation of the vintage trend. Her hair was pressed flat and curved around her chin, Clover fussing with it helplessly until she gave up on achieving perfection and returned to her room to dress herself.
The sun was setting, ticking down the time slowly with each shift of the light, casting long shadows across her room as she fiddled with the layers she had been given. A corselette and set of undergarments flattened the squish of her stomach and chest, decorated with dainty white ribbon and lace that matched the frill of the chemise that protected the dress that would go over it all. Dark stockings pushed into the thickness of her thighs, causing it to bulge over the top of them in a way that caused her stomach to churn.
The dress covered it all, sliding effortlessly against the silk of the chemise and brushing against her knees as she moved. Clover was almost calmed by the weight of it, allowing herself to twirl for a moment to appreciate the movement of it all, and feeling herself flutter with insecurity once again as she caught sight of the low dip in the back that showed the skin of her shoulder blades and spine. It wasn't hard for her to find a lipstick in a shade of red that matched, painting it in sharp lines across her cupid's bow and pressing the pigment into her bottom lip before matching the shape. Feeling proud of herself, Clover glanced quickly at the time as she slid into her shoes, swallowing down the slight jump of nervousness as the moment she would meet up with Alastor grew nearer. She fumbled with her accessories, taking the time to wrap the pearls until they swung just above her waist and making sure the headband sat properly against her bangs.
Clover was always early, if she wasn't she felt late and it further fueled her anxiety, plus the idea of walking downstairs and having Alastor already waiting for her gave her fluttery feelings that she would rather just avoid and ride through the nervousness of waiting for him. Leaving her room felt like walking into quicksand, moving slowly towards the staircase and listening for signs of life. The clink of glasses told her that Husker was awake and at his place behind the bar, and the hope of getting alcohol into her system before the events of the night started pulled her down into the lobby at a steadier pace. As soon as she stepped down onto the landing, her heart leapt into her throat.
For the first time since she'd met him, she saw Alastor before she heard him.
Alastor stood near the bar, tapping long fingers against the counter slowly while he watched Husker make himself a drink. The soft sounds of radio static interlaced with the rolling click of a finished record took the place of flickering radio stations, a change that Clover took notice of instantly. Husker was the first to realize the lobby's third occupant, looking up while shaking whatever concoction he had decided on and meeting her eye. Long feathered eyebrows rose slightly before they furrowed once again, an annoyed huff rising his shoulders as he set down the metal shaker with a loud clunk and turned his attention back to Alastor.
"The fact that the both of yous' are early to this little date is probably the most irritating thing you've eva' done."
"Quiet, Husker."
The squeal of radio feedback almost overtook the nasal snarl, crimson dials turning towards her before softening into the pleasantly bright eyed Alastor she was used to. Clover couldn't help but smile, taking note of the constant tapping of fingers and annoyed flicking of his ears that added to the overall anxious air that surrounded the Radio Demon. It took a moment for her to take notice of his attire, having to unfocus her gaze from his before it sucked her in completely, but trapping herself once again as she took a proper look at him.
Alastor was not dressed in his normal tattered tails and cross front shirt for the first time since she'd known him, the classic Radio Demon attire replaced by a sharp and unmarred suit that closely resembled his normal dress in aesthetics. His suit was still red, but lacking the pinstripes that normally decorated his attire. Instead a single strip of deeper crimson ran down the length of black trousers, matching the lining of his now-shorter tailcoat and silk bow tie, which stood out against the diversion from fashion that was the black of his dress shirt. His coat hung open, whether for comfort or for style she wasn't sure, to show the red of the vest that was cut precisely to accentuate Alastor's lean form, tucking in at the waist and stopping just high enough to further lengthen already long legs. The only remaining items of his normal attire were his shining black shoes and the red tipped gloves that were currently clenched around the microphone that served as his cane, twisting around the metal as she began to move again.
Taking a tentative step forward, she let herself meet his eye again, and her breath left her entirely. His expression was one that she hadn't ever witnessed on him, his normal smile almost completely fallen slack, eyes flickering up and down in a way that almost seemed panicked. Long claws slid into the collar of his shirt, pulling gently at the starched fabric before he moved towards her with quick steps. The radio started up with a loud click, a loud swing filling the air suddenly, causing both of their ears to twitch flat. Clover thought for a moment that it was meant to distract her from the dumbfounded look that had broken his façade of toxic positivity, wondering if she was imagining the soft flush of color on otherwise muted skin as he came closer.
He climbed the stairs almost too confidently, taking them two at a time before holding out his arm like the gentleman he was with a smile. The smile softened at her hesitation, the lace of her gloves hiding the shake in her fingers as she was suddenly faced with the full reality of their situation. This was happening, she was going out on Alastor's arm, and it sent a barrage of dopamine straight into her system that only heightened when the demon standing beside her lowered his voice thoughtfully.
"You do not have to, of course, but I must offer."
Clover didn't hesitate then to take his arm, feeling the familiar flutter in her chest as she looked up at him. Already drunk on the chemicals that being around him provided, she could feel her rational thought fading as she blurted out the first thing that came into her head.
"That's a very nice suit."
"Rosie insisted, though I cannot argue with her craftsmanship."
A lie, Alastor was obviously eating up her unashamed staring, eyes intently watching as her lips rolled against each other before a wave of confidence rushed over her and she let it carry her wherever it would.
"I'll have to write her a thank you."
"That's very kind of you, I see that our shared acquaintance has entirely lived up to her own expectations, and gone far beyond them at that.
"Oh, that's right. I should probably write her one for making my outfit as well."
Alastor laughed, a short chuckle rather than the booming bark he often did for show before leaning down into her ear to speak again. Her knees wobbled at the lack of radio effect that met her ears, her fingers gripping into the fabric of his jacket to steady herself.
"I do believe you're giving me a line, dear."
"I blame the dress, so it's your fault, really."
"Is it now?"
She never grew tired of their little games, truly.
"It's a good thing that Rosie just happened to have my measurements to make this dress, it must be pure luck that we needed to stop by her shop that day, and with this party being so last minute, it must have been a nightmare to make such a thing along with your suit on such short notice."
"You've proven your point."
Clover smiled, dropping the sarcastic lilt to her voice as she breathed out slowly to fight the anxious churn of her stomach that usually accompanied her descending stairs. When her heels were firmly on solid ground, she turned to look up at him, feeling herself begin to flush but unable to stop herself from giving into the flirtatious air of their banter.
"Do you at least approve?"
Alastor stopped suddenly, mouth falling agape again. He attempted to begin to speak, radio stations flickering momentarily before they seemed to rewind entirely and fade back into that rolling record noise. Before he could answer, a gruff sigh broke the tension that had begun to form between them.
"Are you two gonna' stand there makin' eyes at each otha' all fuckin' night or are you gonna leave? Yer' makin' me sick."
"Husker."
Sharp teeth ground together as Alastor turned towards the cat-demon with a sharp crack of his neck. His demeanor shifted abruptly again as he turned back to her.
"It is normal to be fashionably late to these things, but it seems that we are fashionably punctual! Perhaps a drink before we go, to pass the time."
Clover could only nod, realizing that she still hadn't let go of his arm, and Alastor hadn't attempted to drop it of his own volition. She needed to get alcohol into her system as soon as possible to calm her nerves at least a little bit, before she made more of a fool of herself without intoxication as an excuse. They sat at the bar, gently unwinding her arm from his as she balanced herself on the barstool. Alastor took his normal seat one stool away, turning to Husker with a grin laced with daring.
"What would you recommend, bartender?"
"Go fuck yourself."
"I don't think I've ever heard of that one, what's in it?"
She couldn't help but laugh, covering her mouth quickly before answering as quickly as she could when Husker sighed and turned his attention towards her.
"Whadda'ya want sweetheart?"
"Uh, a mint julep sounds nice, actually."
"Sometimes I wonder how the hell you know so much, kid, ya' don't seem like the drunkard type."
Husker turned to start making her drink, Clover smiling softly to herself before she answered.
"I'm really not, but I used to go out for drinks with my dad a lot. I also just watched a lot of time period speci-"
"Smile, kids!"
The flash that flooded the room blinded her for a moment, only having just turned her head towards the sudden exclamation. Her ears twitched sharply towards the screech of radio feedback that came undoubtedly from Alastor, resisting her urges to blindly reach towards him to give comfort. She blinked until she could see again, turning to find the source of the interruption and finding the wide grin of Angel Dust standing a few feet from the bar. He stood with a large duffle bag thrown over his shoulder, a large hoodie covering him down to his knees, and her camera slung around her neck. The static coming from beside her was intense, Alastor holding the bridge of his nose between his fingers as his smile tightened. His hands were placed into his lap as he raised his head again, turning to Angel with that grim smile. His voice was distorted and tense as he spoke.
"Angel, was that really necessary? A warning, or perhaps even a proposition, would have been appreciated."
"Aw, what's da' matta' Al? You two look adorable, it's gunna' be a good one."
"I understand that your instincts vastly differ from my own, or those of any well-mannered member of society, but refrain."
Angel only grinned, placing the photograph on top of the bar before turning to Clover.
"Ya' want me tuh' take a photo of you in ya' dress, ya' look hot. Right, boys?"
Husker only grumbled a response, setting her finished drink down on the bar top before beginning another. Alastor seemed too preoccupied with managing his temper to do much more than nod sharply, radio stations flicking rapidly. Clover momentarily wondered if that was a nervous tick of his, but pushed it aside in favor of attempting to mend the situation by turning to Angel.
"Thanks, Angel. I wouldn't mind a photo to remember tonight with."
She caught Alastor's ear flick up in interest, turning herself around on her stool before hopping down with a soft clack of her heels. As she stood in front of the bar, farther away from it's other occupants so as to not force them into yet another photograph, it all began to feel like the moment before prom that you see in so many movies, and the thought brought an honest smile to her lips. Angel counted down the photo, smiling brightly as he clicked down the button and the flash blinded her once again. Clover allowed her eyes to re-adjust as they continued the conversation.
"You took my camera."
"Seemed a shame for ya' to get all dolled up and not get it on film, right?"
"I guess. Isn't it a little early for you to be up?"
"Yea, but I'm meetin' up with a friend before da' show tonight."
"Well, break a leg, you'll have to tell me how it went when I see you again."
Angel only smiled, removing her camera from around his neck and setting it on the counter beside her before ruffling her hair. He passed with a wink at Alastor, swaying his way toward the front door before waving over his shoulder.
"Have fun, use protection, all that jazz!"
Clover laughed, shaking her head at her flamboyant friend before returning to the bar. Alastor seemed to have calmed himself down slightly, sipping sourly on a dark liquor on the rocks. She gently picked up the already developed photograph, looking down at the almost overexposed image as her heart fluttered. The photograph was utterly candid, Clover visibly in conversation with Husker as he began to pour the liquor for her drink, dark red lips pulled into a small smile despite Husker's gruff expression. Alastor sat beside her, hands folded on top of the bar and his attention visibly turned towards her, ears alert and brow raised in interest. The soft smile that took the place of his usual toothy grin caused her stomach to flip, her brow furrowing in confusion at the unexpected gentleness that had settled in the warmth of his eyes.
It was a nice image, one that she would have been inclined to keep, but the irritated static beside her gave her other ideas. Picking up both photos, she nearly stacked them together before taking a long sip of her drink for liquid support. Clover leaned across the empty space between them, slowly placing the small white rectangles beside Alastor's half-empty glass and setting her hand over it reverently. Her voice was only for him, softer than the flickering radio stations and static that slowed as she spoke.
"It's a nice candid, like a still from a movie, but I know how you feel. You can keep it, or get rid of it, I don't mind at all. As for the other one, would you mind holding onto it for me until later, I don't really have pockets to put it in."
Alastor turned his head slightly, brow raising as he looked down at her through the red-filter that was his monocle. He didn't say a word, uncharacteristically, before looking back down at the photos for a moment before picking them up and tucking them inside his suit jacket. She smiled, looking up to the clock on the wall before speaking again.
"It's almost eight, would it be a good time to leave?"
"Yes, I think that would be best."
He stood quickly, straightening his jacket and picking up his microphone from its place leaning against the bar. Clover downed the rest of her drink, the burn of bourbon instantly settling into her bones. Husker raised a brow at her, uncorking a bottle with a loud pop before pouring himself a shot. She took Alastor's hand to hop down from the stool before quickly checking that her dress was sitting properly against her stomach. The glass that Alastor had been drinking from sat still half-full, left behind as he turned and moved towards the door, obviously ready to put the prying of Husker and Angel Dust far behind them. She shared a look with the former, reaching for the glass and trying not to think of the underlying intimacy that could come from sharing a drink with another person as she raised it to Husker in a toast before downing it's contents, following quickly after Alastor before he noticed.
The door was held open for her, Alastor taking a visible calming breath before gesturing for her to go first with that damned, charming smile.
"Shall we?"