Laden with far more bags than what a simple Halloween costume should require, Angel Dust and Clover returned to the hotel in high spirits. Lollie was whisked away in a cab with a wave, her ample amount of purchases too many to carry home. She and Angel Dust would soon have to disappear into the night for work anyway, and as Angel explained on the way home, tonight's theme at Valentino's club required a little extra work; The hotel wasn't the only establishment in Hell celebrating the holiday. It made the nearly obsessive care Lollie had taken with choosing her handful of costumes make much more sense, and by the end of it Clover hadn't been sure which one of them she'd planned to wear to the party, she just hoped it wasn't the one that seemed to be nothing more but some body paint and a pair of pasties.
They'd cross that bridge when they got to it, Clover decided, for she had more pressing matters to attend to.
The hotel lobby was empty when Clover and Angel arrived, but the ruckus coming from the kitchen solved that mystery quickly. Their bags were settled at the bottom of the staircase as Clover waved Angel on ahead with an excuse that she needed to hang up her coat. It was a half-truth, she did place her woolen jacket back on its hook in the coat closet before peering into the hallway mirror. She was only briefly disappointed that her lipstick had worn off during the working hours, which was mostly to blame on her incessant need for caffeination, but the stain the red had left behind was perhaps even more pleasing. Fixing her hair and making sure her clothes were mostly unwrinkled from their time spent hanging in a dressing room, she decided it was time to face the music. The idiom was meant quite literally, for Clover could hear the radio flickering in the kitchen as she grew closer. She made sure to step around the creaking bits of the hallway to avoid giving herself away too soon and crossed her fingers that the more instinctual of the hotel staff were adequately distracted.
Cursing herself at how fast her heart had begun to beat, Clover breathed slowly to attempt to calm herself before facing Alastor. She wasn't sure why she was so nervous, he knew her well, and he perhaps even had already seen the change in her from the morning's paper; So why did this matter? Perhaps it was the distance between them making the heart grow fonder, or the fear that he would dislike the alteration to her appearance sowing insecurity among the confidence she'd attempted to cultivate. It was ridiculous that one man could do so much to both embolden and embarrass her, but she supposed that was love. For better and for worse, as long as it came from him, she didn't mind the sweet torment she'd found in his affection.
It wasn't until she saw him standing there, back turned as he chastised Angel Dust for something or other, that she realized how much she missed him. The days spent apart now felt more like an age of unsurety that stretched on far longer than the simple passage of time it had been before, but that was to be expected; Things always seemed to move more slowly when you were waiting for something.
Alastor had not decided to remove his coat the way he had before when working in the kitchen, in fact he looked as if he hadn't even tried to participate in the pumpkin carving. Shoulders tensed, he stood just beyond the circle of chattering girls with gourds, leaning slightly over Niffty's shoulder as she carefully scooped with a wooden spoon. Her heart fluttered at the endearing tilt of his head as he spoke softly with the tiny cyclops, the rotating of his ears towards the wheezing laugh of Angel Dust as Vaggie shook a knife in his direction the only sign that he was not solely tuned into his friend. The second blow to her resolve came in the tiniest bit of blackened neck that revealed itself as he tilted his head further, peeking out just between the high collar of his shirt and the sharp edge of his hair, and she wasn't able to stop the soft hitch of breath that arrived alongside the burning in the pit of her stomach. Clover became aware of Husker hunched over the kitchen table nursing a half-empty glass of a neon purple beverage she guessed was the "Witches Brew'' recipe Charlie had found on Vinterest, and the twitching of his ears backward towards her signaled the end of her observation.
"Hi, Al!" Clover cursed the crack in her voice as she blew past him, swerving around the kitchen island to join Angel on the other side.
"Hel-" Alastor began, but he stumbled as he was interrupted by his own radio static. With a rough clearing of his throat he tried again. "-lo."
The pause in his greeting persuaded Clover to risk looking at him, and when she did, she felt that swooping drop in her stomach as her heart lunged into her throat.
Alastor had never been so still, yet so frantic in his movements. The radio buzzed with static as dark eyes flickered over her, almost too quickly for anyone to catch, but Clover was too captured under his gaze to miss it. She was painfully aware that Angel's attention had also shifted towards them, but she couldn't find it in herself to care as those crimson eyes danced across her skin, lingering on the bare expanse of her neck before they stopped short of the hem of her skirt. Ears twitched, stations flickered past something that sounded very much like an old cartoon wolf whistle, and then Alastor was snapping back into a more proper display with a sharp inhale.
As much as she tried to mask it, she couldn't help but notice the slight drop of his Transatlantic and the soft flush beginning to warm muted skin.
"You changed your hair." He smiled, leaning in closer as his head cocked to one side, a deadly combination with the soft growl that painted his teasing. "I don't believe that will be enough to deter the paparazzi."
Clover sputtered, not prepared for the sudden change in tactic from the grinning demon that was now waiting expectantly for her reply. Perhaps she had grown rusty in their time spent apart, their little games had been paused for far too long but she was quick to remind herself of the rules.
"Oh, I- No, I just kind of- Wanted a change, I guess." She said, stuttering slightly as she shifted her weight towards him, but her voice was clear as she looked up at him from under painted lashes. "Do you not like it?"
"You're fishing, dear."
Clover snorted, and then shrugged, as she tilted her chin upwards to mirror his grin.
"Guess nothing's biting."
A short cough pulled his eyes away from her, his once slack jaw snapping shut with a screech of radio feedback. Clover followed his gaze, finding Vaggie at the other end of it pulling a knife from the flesh of her pumpkin, but before her irritation could wash her skin with its angry flush Alastor was capturing her attention once again as his radio landed on a jaunty jazz tune that swiftly rose in volume.
"It suits you."
Alastor's voice spoke into her ear, his arm brushing against the small of her back as he needlessly leaned around her to collect the dirty dishes and bowl of discarded flesh from Niffty's side. Clover's knees wobbled as the scent of musk and spices washed over her in his proximity, and she gripped onto the countertop to keep herself from buckling completely. Luckily, Alastor didn't seem to notice, for he continued with a conversation more suitable for the ears of their friends.
"You've just missed the fun, I'm afraid. Niffty thought it best to preemptively disembowel enough for all of us when you and Angel Dust failed to arrive at the expected hour, there's only the carving left to do- So the kitchen could be cleared in time for dinner, you see."
"Shame that we missed the dirty bits, but I'm sure you twos can find something nasty tuh' get into lata,'" Angel grinned, bumping his hip into Clover's side and effectively breaking the spell Alastor's attention had cast over her. "Sorry we're late Smiles, we got tied up lookin' for costumes."
The sharp grinding of teeth that signaled the beginning of another tirade towards Angel's raunchier-than-needed addition to the conversation was paused as Niffty looked up from scrubbing her hands clean of the last of the pumpkin guts, her bright smile distracting all of them.
"What are you going to be? I made my costume, I'm a little pumpkin!"
"Sure you are." Came Husker's gruff reply from the kitchen table, but none of them paid any mind as the tiny cyclops bounced atop her stool in anticipation.
"It's a surprise," Clover replied as she picked up one of the many squeaky clean squashes that dotted the kitchen island. "You'll have to wait and see."
"A secret. How thrilling."
Clover snorted at Alastor's dry commentary, but her blush burned deeper as she felt his eyes on her, watching as she began to sketch a generic jack-o' lantern face. By the time she'd finished, she'd gathered her thoughts and decided to keep the conversation going with just the slightest turn.
"What about you, Al? Who are you going to be?"
"Now, why would I want to be anyone other than myself?"
The knowing lilt to his voice was enough for her to know he'd caught on to her particular choice of words. It was most likely obvious to everyone in the room that she'd gained his undivided attention; Vaggie's heavy sigh as she and Charlie abandoned their place standing at the kitchen counter in favor of carving at the table was proof enough, but neither of them seemed to care. Neither of them were particularly fond of public displays of affection, but their small signs of infatuation had become more and more common as time went on. It was oddly thrilling to dance with him along the edge of propriety, not quite arm in arm but close enough to feel the warmth of one another. Clover decided that playing coy and seeing how far Alastor would go among their friends was the most entertaining option for the time being.
"It's fun! You get a day to be someone else for a change, and make mischief in a good-spirited way."
"I believe we're all perfectly capable of that without playing dress up."
"C'mon Al, loosen up!" Angel bumped his shoulder into Alastor's, sending a screech through the Radio Demon's transmission. "I thought you'd be a little more of the partyin' type."
"Well, it's no Mardi Gras."
Twisting away from the conversation with a roll of his eyes, Angel chose to instead badger Husker with his antics, leaving Clover alone with Alastor as Niffty focused on carving a grinning cat onto her own, miniature pumpkin. Clover, on the other hand, was intent on keeping Alastor talking; It was perhaps the first time she'd gotten to speak with him without the weight of pressing matters bearing down upon them. She turned to him as he chose to lean on the opposite countertop from the kitchen island, watching as she and Niffty both finished up their preemptive sketches with a soft smile. That tether between them was tugged, the knots around her heart and stomach strengthened since she'd last felt it. Clover refused to let them wear callouses into her sentimentality and allowed that pull to close the space he'd put between them.
"That's a shame, I always wanted to experience that. I never got to visit Louisiana." Clover's sigh shifted into a sharp huff as she lifted herself onto the countertop, swinging her legs against the cabinet below. "Halloween in New Orleans is supposed to be really dangerous though, from what I've heard. You could end up as a sacrifice, or something-"
"Kinky!" Was the added commentary from the peanut gallery, followed quickly by Alastor's biting response.
"You are no longer part of this conversation, Angel."
Her movement provided the wanted result as Alastor's ire lessened in the face of something with a similar second syllable, and Clover did her best to hide her satisfied smile as she adjusted herself. His fingers fluttered against the countertop as she settled her pumpkin against the bare bits of her legs, the radio catching on clips of talk show chatter that rambled on into a mess of mumbling as the volume lowered just enough for him to be heard.
"There are worse things in the dark of the night than cultists, I can assure you."
She wasn't quite sure what to say then. It was quiet, too quiet as their conversation stopped. The only sound was the gentle buzz of static against her side as Alastor took to leaning against the counter beside her, shifting to put his back to the bustling group at the kitchen table. She missed his overwhelming presence, the unending noise that filled every room he resided in, and the sharp wit that kept her constantly on edge. The tumultuous turn of recent events had soured the few moments they'd shared after that fated kiss in his kitchen, but now she was abruptly reminded of it. His hand lingered on the counter beside her, his wrist bending under the weight of him as he leaned against it, and she wished he'd cast caution aside just for a single moment. Her mind raced with the image of those slim hips sliding between her knees, of dark gloves slipping beneath her skirt as the world around them melted away into a radial blur as the metaphorical camera focused on them and them alone. It was embarrassing how often her thoughts had begun to wander into this unknown, inappropriate territory as of late, so she did her best to distract herself in the best way she knew how; By keeping Alastor talking.
"Are you not going to make one?"
Alastor's eyes darted to the pumpkin she'd begun to gingerly carve, her tiny knife puncturing the thick skin as she traced dotted lines around her drawing.
"Should I?"
"Why not? Can't think of anything to draw? You have to have done this at least once before, even on like, apples or something-" Clover's mumbling was broken by a short chuckle, lifting her eyes from her work to find him watching her with a soft fondness that made her hands begin to shake. Swallowing hard around the dryness in her throat, she did her best to sound brave. "Am I wrong?"
Another chuckle, this time echoed with that radio quality that she'd grown to find comfort in.
"Rarely," Alastor hummed, stepping away from the counter as he flicked open the buttons of his jacket and shrugged it from his shoulders. "But don't let that go to your head, dear."
He left her momentarily to drape the fabric across one of the empty chairs at the table, earning a confused look from Husker and a short whistle from Angel Dust, which in turn earned the spider a sharp stab of Vaggie's elbow into his side. Clover noticed that Niffty had taken to mirroring her position atop the kitchen island across from her, her shoes barely brushing the stool she so often used. Alastor regarded their similar sitting with a raised brow when he returned, but the swift unbuttoning of his cuffs distracted Clover from whatever comment he might have made. His shirt sleeves were quickly tugged up his arms and cuffed, but his gloves remained on, which rose suspicion through the fog that had blurred her thinking as she watched this small, not-so-accidental display of seduction; If they'd already completed the messier bits of this particular activity, why did he feel the need to take measures that he'd only ever done when the cleanliness of his clothes was at stake?
Not that Clover was complaining, of course.
The short glance Alastor gave her as he picked up one of the sharper knives on the countertop made it clear that this was a perfectly constructed countermove to her own, and the knowledge sent a shudder rolling down her spine. Alastor was still his own odd flavor of flirt, in private at least, and it had become one of her very favorites. A treat, Clover might say if she was being funny, and she was awful at taking things in moderation.
Clover paused her work to watch as he leaned against the counter beside Niffty, setting her own dull knife on the counter beside her as Alastor's blade pierced the pumpkin's skin. A quick glance at Angel Dust leaning back in his seat to also watch what was unfolding across the kitchen earned her a wide-eyed, raising of eyebrows from the spider demon before her attention snapped back to the quick work of Alastor's knife. In those few seconds he'd already managed to slice a wide smile into the flesh of the thing, and he made quick work of puncturing pupils above it. It was an oddly erotic sight to behold, to watch Alastor show such precision with a blade. It was expected, Alastor was not shy about the "extracurricular activities' ' he participated in, in life or in death. Clover had witnessed the aftermath of that particular set of skills twice before, but seeing the skill in person without the mess that it so often created was something different entirely. Clover decided that dwelling on the logistics of that feeling for too long would only lead to further confusion, or reveal the depths of her darker attraction towards him, and instead allowed herself to become entranced by how smoothly he sliced through the squash's thick skin.
There certainly was something about a man who was good with his hands, Clover thought much to her dismay.
When he was done and had popped out the now detached bits of flesh with a deft press of his thumb, Alastor turned the pumpkin's new face towards her. The matching grin he put on as he did it was what sent her into a fit of giggles that nearly slipped her from atop the counter, her hair brushing against her cheeks as she shook her head at him.
"You're a narcissist."
"You've just now noticed?"
Alastor's self-portrait pumpkin was placed facing her on the countertop with a satisfied smile from the demon, and as Niffty joined in to talk about her feline-faced carving, Clover took that time to finish her own in between bouts of lingering giggles. It was silly, this entire thing was absolutely ridiculous in an almost painfully nostalgic sort of way. From the soft flickering of Alastor's radio as it looked for an appropriate tune, to the bickering of Vaggie and Angel over whatever inappropriate drawing he'd done on his pumpkin, there was a familiar comfort that settled across Clover as she took it all on. Family wasn't something she'd ever really understood in her life on earth, her own was disjointed and wrought with tragedy, and the blind allegiance she'd seen others pledge towards people who did nothing more but share blood had always baffled her. That wasn't to say she didn't have family she loved, of course, but the bad tended to overshadow the good she did have in life. Her feelings on the matter had always been confusing, a swirling mess of jealousy and distaste that had probably done more damage than a few moments spent in the Morningstar kitchen could mend; But, the fact that she may have found love in all forms among the denizens of Hell was so absurd that it had to be true.
Their pumpkins were lined up on the kitchen table, Clover's grinning Jack taken from between her palms before she was helped down from the countertop. Every eye watched as Alastor wrapped his hands around her waist, fingertips pressing momentarily into the small of it before he lifted her from her perch with an ease that shook Clover's knees. Her apology for grabbing onto him to steady herself was waved off with an easy smile, and Alastor spoke softly as he waited for her to regain her balance.
"You seem a little faint, darling. Perhaps you should take it easy until the festivities, I believe we will have a long night ahead of us come tomorrow."
"I'm alright, I just- You're probably right." Clover sighed; She didn't know how to explain to him that he was to blame. He was already aware of this, she was sure. If she'd ever questioned if Alastor knew what he did to her before, his doing so with witnesses had solved that little riddle for her. The fear that he would recede into himself due to the visual interference still itched at the back of her mind, but she could always count on Alastor to surprise her. "Are you staying after dinner?"
"That depends."
"On?"
Alastor chuckled, shaking his head at her obvious pushing before releasing her with a fluttering of claws as Niffty began to wave them out of her way furiously with a dishrag. He cleared his throat as he offered his arm and Clover took it without a second thought, the weight of him settling the slight buzz of anxiousness in her before it could drag her down again.
"I hate to disappoint you, but I think I shall reserve my bad influence for All Hallow's Eve. I wouldn't want to keep you awake."
"That's never been a problem before."
Raising one brow, Alastor looked down at her through his monocle. This time when his eyes shifted into that warm cinnamon color, she paid attention. They turned a rusted sienna beneath the red glass, and as the light changed when they stepped beneath one of the many lamps that dotted the hallway, she watched his sclera shift to white. It wasn't until her reflection disrupted the refraction as he curiously cocked his head at her that she realized he was speaking to her. Clover quickly sputtered to hide her blunder, but it was too late.
"What? I'm sorry."
"I said, are you alright? You seemed to be pondering something very intently just now."
"I- Was just wondering what Niffty was making for dinner."
If Alastor doubted her, he didn't show it. The confused furrow of his brow relaxed as he laughed, patting her hand affectionately as he steered her towards their proper place at the bar.
"She didn't say. Though if my senses haven't failed me, I believe I smelled peaches earlier. Perhaps a pie for dessert, if we're so lucky."
The rest of Clover's waking hours, as few as they were, were spent at Alastor's side. Angel left soon after dinner with a wink in their direction, which Alastor had been too distracted by arguing about the correct amount of liquor for a party with Husker to notice, and the girls had retired to the kitchen to finish preparing some of the many refreshments Charlie planned to offer the next evening. While Clover was intensely invested in the party planning, her friends assured her that her work was done and that she was not needed for the night, so she'd sat at the bar sampling the cocktails Husker had concocted for the occasion and giving her unfiltered opinion alongside Alastor. Her head was lulling against the wooden bartop by her third drink as the excitement finally caught up to her. It was with little argument that she allowed Alastor to lift her from her seat, which even in her drowsy state she knew he only did because Husker was the sole witness, and carry her up the stairs. He moved too quickly for her liking, his gliding steps landing them at her doorway before she'd even become aware that they'd ascended the stairs and been allowed to savor the moment. Having him lay her in her bed felt too intimate to risk, so Clover lifted her head from his shoulder with a groggy "Thank you." as she shifted out of his embrace and bid him good night through the crack in her bedroom door.
It was only when she woke up the next morning and felt the residual burn of his touch against the back of her knees that what he'd done truly set in, and her stomach churned at the memory of how easily he moved her. She hid the signs of her sin behind the drum of an equally scorching shower, hoping the music that blared from her phone left on her bedside table hid the buzz of her vibrator and any noises she made in her need.
Clover emerged from her room just shy of noon, still flushed from the heat of her time spent alone and dressed for decorating in a grinning skull printed t-shirt and sweatpants. She knocked shortly on Angel's unlocked door, which swung open to reveal an empty, messy bedroom before she went to join her friends. The banisters of the railing had already been wrapped with what she hoped were fake spiderwebs as she untangled her fingers from them, and she noticed the decorating had already begun as she stepped off the landing. Paper bats decorated the ceiling alongside wispy napkin ghosts, their Jack O' Lanterns sat on tables topped with fraying lace cloth alongside plates of covered cookies and other non-perishables; All in all, it was a cute attempt at bringing the spooky season to the hotel. Perhaps too cute for Pentagram City's population of demons and imps, but there was still time to bring a little more fright to the festivities.
Angel was waiting in the kitchen when she entered, already on his second cup of coffee and affectionately bopping Fat Nuggets on the nose to the rhythm of some song that played on the red kitchen radio. She smiled at the tiny pig's bumble bee costume and gave him a boop of her own when Angel paused to let her pass by, and the tiny squeal it earned her brightened her blurry mind. Not much was spoken between them as Clover went about making her coffee, pouring a decent amount of the vanilla syrup she'd taken from the coffee shop stock room into her cup before dumping her double dosage of caffeine over ice. The resulting beverage became an almost-watery mess of java and cream that stuck to her tongue with its sweetness. Lunch was the reheated leftovers from last night's beef stroganoff eaten among the craft clutter of the kitchen table as Clover listened idly to Vaggie lay out the plan for the rest of the party preparations.
By the time Lollie wandered downstairs in her pajamas, the red sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon. Clover was in the middle of taking photographs of the hotel's residents to post to their Sinstagram for further promotion when the mint demoness called down to her from the first landing, and she nearly dropped her phone entirely when Lollie leapt onto her back from the fourth step.
"Boo!" Lollie giggled, bouncing on her toes as she unwrapped her arms from Clover's neck. "How'd last night go? Did ya' beau see your haircut?"
"Aye! We're makin' art here babes, don't manhandle the photographer!"
Angel's yell from where he'd balanced himself on a chair to hand up black and orange streamers was broken with well-meaning laughter, and Clover could only shake her head at the two of them before leaning into Lollie to mutter an answer.
"He did."
"And?"
Bare arms wrapped around her waist as Lollie watched over her shoulder while Clover moved to retake the photograph, and she found herself leaning back against Lollie as they continued to chat.
"He said it suits me, which in Alastor-talk most likely means that he approves." Clover hummed, tapping her phone's screen and waving her hand for Angel to climb down now that she was happy with the photo. "How was last night?"
"It was alright, fella's go wild over a nurse outfit any day of the week. If I keep this up, I'll be outta your hair in no time."
"But that's worked out so well for me so far."
Snorting a short laugh, Lollie untwisted herself from around Clover and began to walk backwards towards the kitchen.
"It's a funeral parlor down here, you're just missin' the corpses. Put on some music, set the mood! Why the hell didya spend so much time fussin' over a playlist if ya' aren't gonna use it?"
Lollie skipped off without another word, grabbing a cookie from the refreshment table as she passed and ignoring Niffty's disapproving glare. She was right, Clover had spent many hours into the night perfecting the musical accompaniment for their party, making sure there was something for each and everyone of them to enjoy as the night went on. She'd even included a pre-party mix that was sure to put even the sourest of them into a good mood. It took her only a few minutes to find the correct connection to the speaker system, and soon enough the lobby was filled with music.
It was a surprise to none of them that the addition of audio to their decorating party heralded Alastor's arrival.
Clover had been half-heartedly dancing with Angel to Lollie's sing-a-long of a more dated tune when Husker's humming had abruptly stopped with a sharp clearing of the bartender's throat. Clover paused mid-twist as the volume slowly lowered, her attention first going to her phone sitting behind the bar before she caught Husker's eye and followed his gaze to the man standing in the foyer. Alastor had stopped to speak to Charlie, the bright-eyed blonde already fully dressed in her costume and attending to the candy bowl sitting beside the front door. That was all she could gleam from the situation before she became lost in looking over Alastor's costume change, and Clover's smile widened as she took in what he wore; Black slacks with suspenders, a sharp pair of wire-rim glasses, a rust-colored vest, black bowtie and a pair of black leather gloves. The white dress shirt he wore beneath was rolled to the elbows and spattered with a red she wasn't entirely sure wasn't blood. His head turned as she began to giggle, almost as if he'd waited until she'd taken him in entirely before moving forward, and Alastor crossed the lobby quickly with a skip to his step that signaled his satisfaction.
"I don't believe you," Clover said in between giggles, shaking her head at the grinning demon who had settled himself in at her side. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about darling!"
Alastor's smile only grew wider as he began to twirl his fingers, the staff of his microphone appearing between them momentarily before it shifted into the wooden handle of an ax.
"I simply took your advice! It was too late to ask a favor of Rosie, so I had to come up with something myself! Surely anyone with taste would recognize the Bayou Butcher, the most famed ax murderer of New Orleans and terror of the 1920s!"
"You really are a narcissist."
There was no bite to her words as she nudged him with her hip, thankful the splotches that darkened his clothing seemed to be entirely dry. Angel and Lollie had continued their antics a few feet away as the song shifted into a slower, more soulful tune. She watched as Lollie fiddled with the switches to a few floor lights that had been set up to use once the sun had fully set, slim fingers tilting the angle of it towards an almost humorously large skull-shaped disco ball.
"It seems you all have been hard at work." Alastor hummed as he looked around the decorated lobby. "Is this what you had wanted?"
Clover looked at him, ready to lie and say the stereotypical spider webs and paper bats had been what she had wanted from the planning, but she couldn't. Even if she tried, there was no doubt in her mind that Alastor would see right through her, so there was no point in telling him anything but the truth; There never was.
"Not exactly."
"Go on."
Turning her head to make sure Charlie was out of earshot, Clover leaned further into Alastor's side.
"I think it's a little- Well, I think it will take more than a few streamers and a bowl of punch to spook sinners."
"I believe you might be right." Alastor hummed, tilting his head to look up at the scattered taxidermy that decorated the wall above the bar before his smile grew sharper.
He stepped away from her, his bloodied prop disappearing with a pop as she strolled to the center of the room, catching the attention of the rest of the hotel's staff as he turned once, then twice in place to observe them all as his hand extended. With a flash, his palm erupted into a green flame that quickly grew to curl around his wrist, licking against the rolled cuff of his shirt before he tossed it overhead. It burst with a wail of static from the Radio below it, cascading down the walls with its curling flame before it caught against the baseboards and rushed towards the center of the room with applause that only rose in volume as the flames grew higher. They crashed against Alastor's form with another flash of sickly green light that threw arms against the eyes of her friends, but Clover was too captivated by what had been born from those flames to look away.
"I swear to- We spend all fucking day working on the decorations and you think you can come in here with your voodoo bullshit and change it? Listen here you-"
"Presto!"
The exclamation from the floor stopped Vaggie's tirade in its tracks as a second flash shifted the room's tone, turning the normally bright and welcoming light of the lobby a mix of swirling colors as Lollie's spotlight hit the now much more lifelike crystalline skull that hung in the room's center. It cast fractals of red and purple across the grinning skulls that dotted the room, catching the dew that clung to branching spiderwebs that dipped towards where the masses of not-so-innocent demons would soon gather. As Clover joined Alastor in the room's center to take in all he'd done she felt the dark eyes that had been carved in the mansion's wooden trim long ago staring down at her, but where there should have been that familiar chill of being watched was only the bubbling excitement that bounced her against the carpet of shadows. Their hard work had not gone to waste, it was simply amplified by the black magic Alastor had cast over them all. The bats that hung from the ceiling seemed to flutter in the shifting light, the Jack O' Lanterns lit from within by green fire. It was perfect, bordering just on the precipice of horror without tumbling into the depths of a haunt; Everything Clover had been waiting for.
"I hate to break up this pretty little picture, but we've gotta' make a costume change."
Lollie's voice drew Clover out from her awestruck haze, turning her head towards the grandfather clock that sat against the room's far wall to find the hands ticking down time far faster than she'd expected. She looked to Alastor and found him already gazing down at her, and the smug smile she'd expected to see was far sweeter than she could stand.
"Well? Run along then." His voice was sinfully soft as he nodded his head towards where her friends waited at the foot of the stairs. "I shall not move, you have my word."
Clover's heart stuttered beneath her sternum at that stare, and she knew what he said was true. There was something different about tonight, she could feel something bubbling on the horizon, waiting until the glaring heat of the sun disappeared so it could run rampant in the cover of darkness, and the curiosity inside of her was itching to find out what would happen next.
The stairs creaked beneath her feet as she took them two at a time with Lollie and Angel hot on her heels, and when she stopped on the second landing to chance a fleeting glance behind her, she found proof of what he had said in the beaming smile of the demon still stuck to the center of the lobby's floor.