"So, I- Uh, I spent the night at Alastors."

The slam of the door behind Husker on his way out had called the rest of the hotel's inhabitants to the lobby, and somewhere between Angel's questions and Clover stalking away to hide in the sanctity of the library, the wrath of Vaggie had ascended on her.

"You did what?"

Ignoring Vaggie's exclamation, Clover slid back against the wall of the library, letting her head bang against the freshly-redone wallpaper hard enough to rattle her skull.

She was absolutely not in the mood for this.

"We went to get coffee this morning, and on the way back to the hotel- Well, we saw Vox, and Al apparently wasn't very happy about it if we go by the fact that he immediately dropped me off here with no explanation and then disappeared with Husker." She sighed, pressing her palms into the sockets of her eyes until constellations began to form before letting her hands fall weakly against her sides. Her head lolled with consideration, Clover taking her lip between her teeth to chew as she tried to make sense of the sudden change to her pleasant morning.

Things were moving too fast to make sense of, her mind was a mess of emotions and questions that she'd be refused the answers to, and now the addition of two other concerned parties with commentary of their own was making it impossible for her to find a moment of peace.

"Jesus! Qué mierda," Vaggie's growl was a weak warning against the fingers that were suddenly tugging at her shirt collar, stretching the weave away from her skin to reveal the fresh bruises that blossomed beneath it. "Es hombre muerto cuando vuelve, lo juro por Dios… You're gonna get yourself killed for real, I told you-"

"Will you stop it?"

With a cry far louder than she'd intended it to be, Clover pushed back against the invasion and put as much space between her and Vaggie as she could without giving into her urge to lash out. Her hip met the corner of one of the bookcases set against the wall, and Clover pressed herself into the comfort of the small space between where it and the wall did not quite touch.

"For fucks sake! At least let 'er explain before ya' get ya' granny panties in a twist, for all ya' know it coulda' just be uh- Souvenirs of a good time!"

Satisfied with the heavy sigh Angel's outburst received in lieu of more arguments, Clover pushed off from her place pressed into one of the room's many corners, and began to pace. The absentminded removal of her sweater as the heat of her anxious nerves began to spread across her skin had revived the conversation of her physical state once again with the appearance of her bloodied bandages, causing Niffty to disappear into the hallway rambling about first aid while Charlie fluttered nervously at her side.

"Listen, I know you don't want to really talk about it." Charlie stepped into Clover's path, hands held in front of her like she was calming a wild animal, and Clover began to wonder what she'd begun to look like to the people who had so graciously taken her in. "But, as a patron of this hotel, and as our friend, we're worried about you."

Debating whether or not to just tell them everything was a losing game, as much as Clover wanted to avoid an uproar. Charlie was right after all, it was unfair to try and keep them in the dark; They were already involved.

"I was attacked last night." Clover raised a hand to silence the immediate response and the room fell painfully quiet to allow her to continue. "Alastor saved me, so I don't want to hear anything about him 'being dangerous' or any of that other bullshit, I would not be here right now if it wasn't for him, and if you want this conversation to continue, you'll leave it at that."

"Are you alright though? Like, did Al-"

"He killed them." The room froze at her admission, and Clover took her chance to move past Charlie as she continued. "There was nothing left, Alastor made sure of it."

Her palms met the top of the radio that sat in the room's far corner, tracing the grooves in its wooden paneling reverently as she thought back to the moments shared over the device.

"...The Radio Demon saved you?"

Vaggie's voice, now softened with a sincere sort of confusion, drew her out of the mild heartache that formed the longer she dwelled on the moments of stumbling introduction she'd shared in this very room, her fingers thumping against the radio's dials as she turned to face her friend.

"Do you understand now? He's not- He's a different picture than the one you've got in your mind." The blank stares she received in return did little to help the insecurity that had begun to shake her voice, but she continued anyway. "With me, anyway…"

"At least ya' finally admit it." Angel Dust's commentary received nothing from Clover but a soft sigh as she fell back against the device.

The multitude of gazes that bored into her skull spread unease like ice across her skin, and she was thankful when Niffty returned dragging a classic red and white medic's bag behind her. Clover allowed herself to be ordered back to the couch by the tiny now-nurse so she could reassess her wounds. Reaching out to Angel beside her as dried blood tugged at her tender skin and turning her head as a fresh coat of antiseptic was applied, Clover instead tried to focus on the world beyond the library's windows.

Outside, all seemed quiet, as quiet as things could be by the standards of Pentagram City. The sun was beginning to set, the shadows of the world around them elongating as the neon lights of Hell's night-life began to flicker on. It was then that she realized she'd never really paid much attention to the view from the upstairs windows, not even her own. She was always more concerned with what walked within the hotel's halls than what lay beyond them. That thought was cut short by the pressure of fresh bandages being wrapped around her forearm, and Clover turned to catch a glimpse of her already healing wounds. She was pleasantly surprised to see the gashes already sealing shut thanks to Alastor's handiwork, and it seemed that Niffty felt the same.

"I'm surprised, you're already healing! I thought Alastor was only good at hurting people, not the other way around." She giggled, getting to her feet with a bounce and beginning to repack the bag. "See? Things aren't so bad!"

With a crackle of static the radio sprung to life, and all eyes turned towards it. It searched through its channels too rapidly, too soon, and the sound warped as it pushed through the constraints of the slowly warming valves. The sound that came through was a swinging mess of melodies, and the radio's speakers caught the disjointed syllables of spoken word as it raced across radio frequency. Clover was on her feet before any of them could stop her, crossing to the heavy wooden frame to crouch before it as the broken bit of passing lyrics formed into something more tangible, something her ears pushed forward to discern.

It wasn't Alastor's voice that she found among the static.

"̵P̵e̴r̶h̴a̵p̵s̶ ̸we ̸c̶a̵n̴ ̸f̶i̷n̴d̶ ̵a̴ ̸b̴̶̶e̷̶̷tter ̵̵̴u̴̶̷s̶̶̶e̷̴̴ ̴f̴o̶r̴ ̵h̴er ̵a̷f̵t̵e̶r̶ ̵a̵l̷l̵.̴"̸

A squeal came from the soul of the device, rattling its knobs at a rate she feared would send them scattering to the floor. More garbled words broadcast into the room, barely understandable among the heavy static that had taken over the air-space, but as Clover fought against the ringing in her ears she could pick out the growling timbre of Alastor's voice. Her fingers found the dials, twisting the volume up against her better judgment before she attempted to tune it herself. The station crackled and wheezed, fighting against her before it caught an echoed repetition of that familiar, transatlantic tone.

"Y̸o̶u̵ ̷w̸i̶l̸l̶ ̶l̸e̶a̶v̵e̶ ̶h̸e̴r̶ ̷a̶l̷o̶n̷e̸."

"What 'da fuck?" Angel yelled behind her, pulling her attention from the flickering lights within the radio.

A clatter of plastic against the side table overlaid the radio's broadcast, Clover's priorly powered down cell phone vibrating against the tabletop. Another joined it, and another, and then another as Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel all deposited their devices beside her own. The screens scrambled into a messy display of half-tones and neon pixels that seemed to breathe alongside the squealing static the radio emitted.

"That can't be good."

Clover's whisper disappeared behind the new swell of noise from beyond the library's walls. From downstairs came the sound of the landlines that resided in Alastor and Charlie's dual offices ringing alongside the kitchen radio's screeching, and Clover's ears pressed flat against her head against its combined volume.

"Turn it off!" Vaggie's yell was barely loud enough to be heard over the noise, the demoness's hands cupped around her lips to further amplify her voice. "Unplug it or something!"

"I don't think that's how it works!"

Whether anyone heard Clover or not didn't matter, because Vaggie pulled the plug herself to little avail. The radio still played, switching between stations and static until there was no end between them, just a constant noise that she wasn't sure the speakers could withstand for much longer. Every nerve in her body seemed to tremble at that frantic frequency, pushing her heart to race and the taste of iron to coat her tongue. The air buzzed with electric particles that pulsed against her skin in a heavy rhythm that reminded her too much of her own heartbeat for her to write off as coincidence. Clover's hands pressed against the radio, feeling the wood thrum against her skin as Alastor's voice suddenly broke through with complete clarity.

"̵D̷o̵ ̴y̵o̶u ̶u̷n̶d̷e̷rs̵t̷an̴d̷?̶"̶

The polished red radio breathed beneath her palms, and for a moment Clover thought it may have been the vibrations dulling her nerves and tricking her senses, but then the wood split on a particularly painful peal of feedback and the idea that it was just an illusion was no longer an option. Splinters branched out towards the ceiling from the radio's curved top with a sick crack that sent a chill down her spine, barely missing her tender skin as Clover pulled back.

There was little time to take in the familiar shapes of the shifting wood before sparks burst from the radio's back, spiraling off every direction as it began to short-circuit. She nearly stumbled to the floor in her rush to get away, color blooming her vision as electricity shot like fireworks into the otherwise dim library in rapid succession while the library lights themselves began to flicker. The shadows of the demons in the room danced across the walls, twisted and stretched in the changing light, a stop-motion film of panic as Charlie rushed to put herself between Niffty and the still-sparking radio while Clover slowly spun round to take it all in.

Outside, the once calm evening descended into calamity. Clover's head turned at the far-off sound of shattering glass, punctuated by the screams echoed off the city streets below. She quickly moved to the window, pressing her cheek to the glass as she fought to look towards the center of the city. Above the tops of buildings, she spied the towering technological center, its grand digital billboards and plasma screens flashing the blue tone of a death screen. If she squinted she could barely make out a white line of text speeding across them, and as her glasses bumped into the window panes, she swore she saw a flash of blue eyes among the code.

All at once, it reached its crescendo with a chorus of chaos.

Bulbs blew with a crash as circuits overloaded, a growling of static filled the room, and the crackle of electricity in the air surged with a painful snap against their skin. The radio began to fizzle, its sound quality sinking rapidly until it left only a garbled mess behind before it fell quiet with an almost-human whine. The silence that followed brought forth unease, a tingling sensation that something was terribly wrong crawling up her spine too slowly for her to recognize.

It was the trembling of glass beneath her fingertips, the far-off wail of an oncoming storm; She felt it all a second too late.

"Shit- Get down!"

There was barely time to register the rough yell that came from Angel Dust before she was ripped from the windowsill, pressing her face into her arms as a deafening sound rippled across the Ring. It rang like a bell and rolled like thunder, its pitch setting an ache deep into her bones. She couldn't hear the shattering of the window's glass, but she felt the sharp raindrops that followed cascading down upon them. Surely she screamed, surely they all screamed, but none of them could hear it through the ringing of their ears nor the deafening silence that followed, and none of them dared to move until they were sure it was done.

"Toots? You okay?"

Shadows scattered across the floor in the wake of Vaggie's cell phone flashlight, its glow turning the inside of Clover's eyelids scarlet when she refused to open them just yet. Slowly she came back to herself, her body's functions returning from their panicked shutdown. Soft fur pressed against her back as dual sets of long arms held her tight, and as Clover lifted her head she found Angel Dust braced above her. A shift of her knees beneath her and he was gone, moving off her and helping her to her feet with gentle hands.

As much as she wanted to ask him the same, to thank him for protecting her, to tell him she was alright, Clover's voice couldn't corporate. She nodded her head the best she could as she swayed, her head spinning with the rush of blood that standing sent towards her feet. There was a vague ringing still echoing inside her skull as she looked around the dark room, the leftover rays of the setting red sun barely able to cut through the darkness.

"What…the fuck was that?" Vaggie sighed, following Clover with her flashlight.

Clover's shoes crushed the remains of the window panes as she stepped towards the still-smoking radio and ran gentle fingers over the dials, doing her best to ignore the branching antler-like shadows that seemed to grow and shift with the movement of her spotlight. She wasn't quite sure why she kept returning to it, even in its battered state, but she had no energy to resist the tugging in her chest that pulled her to it. Her voice returned quietly, too quietly for her to notice the way it echoed with radio amplification.

"Alastor and Vox. I heard them both. I'm guessing his 'business meeting' didn't go very well."

"Quite the contrary!"

The radio lit from within as Alastor's voice crackled through, its warm glow brilliant against the room dim's mood as a quiet tune began to play. Clover spun around with a squeak as the fireplace caught with a flash of green flame and bathed the room in a momentary sickly glow before it settled into a more acceptable color.

Not that Clover truly paid attention to any of that once she'd caught sight of the set of warm eyes flickering in the shadows beyond the firelights reach, of course.

Alastor appeared from the darkness with Husker at his side, the prior straightening his suit with a furrowed brow. Even in the meager amount of light the fire provided she could tell that it had absolutely not gone well despite Alastor's assertion, but the semantics could wait till later; Clover was far too concerned with the state of him.

"Are you okay?"

The question seemed to surprise him, Alastor's ears twitching towards her with a flick. It was quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically so after the dramatics of his entrance, and Clover took advantage of the pause to further examine his person. The ends of his suit cuffs were singed, and as she crept closer she caught the sharp smell of an electric fire beneath the other, overpowering tones of smoke and iron that settled into the air. Patches of Alastor's suit seemed to stick to the skin beneath with a dark, wet weight that caught the light as he turned toward her. Blood, but whose? Did Vox even bleed, was he flesh beneath it all? Or was it Alastor's blood that stained the fabric and dripped into the carpet at his feet? Her panicked heart ached to reach out to him, to tend to him the same way he had for her the night before, but the stiffness in Alastor's shoulders as he tucked his hands behind his back was clear; Boundaries were indeed, back in place.

"I am, and-" Alastor's breath caught in his throat momentarily as he took in the state of the room, glancing quickly between the shattered windows and the sizzling radio before he returned his attention to her. His eyes flickered over her person, lingering on the bared skin of her arms and the frazzled state of her hair before speaking once again. "Are you?"

"Your suit-," It wasn't an answer, but it was all she could think to say. The truth was that the weight of what Clover was feeling was too complex to explain to him now, especially in the presence of an audience, but she couldn't bring herself to lie to him. It was far easier, as usual, for her to remain focused on Alastor. "It's ruined."

"Yes, I will have to 'burn the dress', as they say. Rosie will be thrilled."

Clover couldn't bring herself to laugh, unable to cut through the tense air that settled over them. Not even the normal suspects for unceremoniously shattering moments like these spoke up, Vaggie and Angel wearing equal expressions of unease as they all became aware of the ragged edge to Alastor's breath.

"Well! That was a truly enlightening meeting!" Alastor's cheerful chirp echoed through the radio behind her before it went quiet once again, startling every demon in the room with its volume. "I have much to think about. I shall retire for the evening, and I suggest you all do the same."

A pointed look to each of them, a sinking feeling in Clover's stomach as their eyes met and Alastor's mask remained unmoving. There would be no answers tonight.

"Now, if you'll excuse me-"

He blew past them before they could blink, running a hand across his ears to collect the static and leaving dark shining streaks behind.

"Al, wait-"

Clover began to follow after him, but gentle claws pulled her back.

"Let 'em go, honey, trust me on this one." Husker sighed, collapsing into the arm of the couch behind him once he was satisfied she had listened. "He's in one'a his moods."

Staring at the spot on the floor where Alastor had paused briefly at her call before he'd disappeared once again, Clover felt her vision begin to blur. She tried her best to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, but could not stop the hiccuping sob that squeezed itself out of her throat. It was all too much, too confusing. She couldn't read the meaning behind Alastor's smile, she couldn't measure the weight that burdened him, and she hated every second of it. Her heart ached in her chest, longing to return to simpler times of early morning strolls and late-night conversation, unable to withstand the overwhelming flood of emotions that twisted into it like a knife.

Patience could only wear so thin before it was ripped to pieces, and she was terrified her time would run out too soon.

When a fur-coated arm wrapped around her shoulder, she was surprised that instead of recoiling at the sudden contact she sought out the warm comfort of Husker's side. Clover curled into him, shrinking into his embrace as Husker hugged her loosely with both arms and hid her away within the barrier of his folded wings. She stiffened at the sound of the door closing, the hopeful notion that Alastor had changed his mind turning her head, but she only found that their numbers had dwindled. Vaggie and Charlie were gone, leaving only Angel hovering near Husker's elbow and Niffty quietly sweeping away the shattered glass.

It was then that she truly began to cry, a soft whine that turned into gut-wrenching sobs as she gave in. She wasn't even entirely sure why she'd so suddenly devolved into hysterics but hoped that once she was over and done with it she would be able to think more clearly.

Fur grew damp as Clover pressed her face into Husker's shoulder, feeling his arms tense and tighten around her as she held onto them. Her heart broke at the familiarity of it all, the ghost of a life lost long ago almost appearing before her again as she was held in Husker's near-fatherly embrace. Tears fell faster than before as Clover's bad habit of refusing to deal with her negative emotion, be it grief, heartbreak, or insecurity, finally caught up with her. It was hard to hear over her deafening despair; Muffled conversations were had over her head, doors opened and closed, it was all just background noise. The only thing that kept her grounded was the unyielding pressure of being held, and even that faded into the overwhelming heartache that had suddenly consumed her.

Eventually, Clover's tears ran dry, her eyes swollen and sore as they opened to peer up at the demon who still refused to release her. Husker sat with his head laid back against the couch behind him as he stared out into the quiet night, his eyes barely open and blown wide in the darkened library. He didn't flinch when she shifted, tossing her legs over his knee and sinking further into his embrace to settle this small moment of comfort he'd so graciously offered to her. A rumbling came from the depths of his chest as she curled into it, and soon enough Clover found herself lulled into stillness by his purring and the gentle harmonizing hum of the radio.