The sound of a telephone startled them both, popping the metaphorical bubble they'd floated through the morning in and sending them both bashfully crashing back down to earth with its single, shrill tone. Clover unwound herself from him with a groan, falling back into the mirror to watch as Alastor disappeared into the bedroom only to return a moment later with an armful of clothes, his ears still turned to listen as the tone trilled on.

"Aren't you going to answer?"

"Let it ring. I understand that every hour down here is ungodly, but that gives them no right to be calling this early." Alastor huffed, shaking his trousers free of wrinkles and attempting to hide his underthings from her watchful eye. "Why, I've not even had time to dress!"

Clover sat forward at the sudden realization of exactly how recklessly she'd approached the evening before, waiting until he'd finished tucking his undershirt into his trousers to speak up over the persistent phone ringing in the background.

"Alastor-"

"Yes, darling?"

The pet name sent serotonin straight into her system, mixing with the endorphins of intimacy to create an amplified dose of dopamine that filled her with fluttery fuzziness, and Clover tried to keep the kicking of her feet to a minimum as she dropped her chin to her chest to conceal her girlish glee and continued.

"I hate to ask but- I didn't bring any clothes. Would you mind conjuring me something to wear?"

Alastor's grin grew impossibly wider, she'd even dare to call it impish, as his radio kicked up with an impeccably peppy tune. Before she'd even had time to see the warning signs flashing inches from her face, he swept her up into his arms and spun them both wildly around. Clover squealed, clinging helplessly to Alastor's shirt as she was dropped back on her feet to maintain her balance and not send them both tumbling to the tile. Alastor stepped back from her with full Radio Demon charm, cupping her chin to further push up the corners of her mouth as he exclaimed,

"But you're wearing the only thing that matters, my dear! A smile!"

Clover stared wide-eyed at him, blinking owlishly before she cracked into cackling laughter and crumpled into him, unable to cope with how utterly proud of himself he looked. Alastor's gloating grin grew as she struggled to compose herself, but his ears betrayed him; They flicked forward with every sound, the smug squint of his eyes widening as Clover hopped onto her toes and tapped his nose, giggling her words into the kiss she quickly pressed to his cheek.

"You're ridiculous."

"You like it."

"I love y- it."

The slip of her tongue-tied it in knots, but luckily, Alastor didn't seem to notice as he stepped away to fetch what looked like a dark sweater from the countertop. Their ears perked up as the phone's ringing stopped for mere seconds before it stubbornly started up again, seeming more shrill than before as it echoed through Alastor's many hallways.

"Go answer," Clover sighed as she sent a playful swat into his side, pausing to admire the indignant little look he gave her from beneath the hem of his pullover as he tugged it over his head. "If they're calling twice it might be important."

Alastor hummed thoughtfully as he pushed up his sleeves and gave himself a final once-over in the mirror, and despite seeming utterly unconvinced, leaned over to pat her cheek with the finality of a farewell fit for a far longer period of time than a phone call could call for.

"I believe there's coffee in the cabinet above the stove, you're welcome to anything while you wait. I'll try my best to be brief!"

His promise was sealed with a flourish as Alastor took her by the shoulders and spun, sending her tumbling off balance against his sink as he darted out the door with her towel trailing behind him. Her sputtering expletives caught in the flutter that filled her chest as she looked up at her mirror reflection just in time to catch the final flicker of green that danced along her limbs. Where she expected to see that bare expanse of her body, the dips of her softness rolling free without the restraint of clothing and her skin dotted with the aftermath of Alastor's desire, she instead finds an incredibly sweet display of dark magic. A scarlet day dress drapes over her form, its soft fabric clinging to all the right places and its skirt swinging dangerously above her knees- Far shorter than anything she would expect from a prohibition man, Clover muses as she shoots a look towards where he'd stood just second before. The lack of tile against toes turns her attention downward to the black flats that had appeared on her feet, and Clover giggles when the playful kick she gives to test the skirts' swoosh reveals the red hearts that decorate the rubber soles of her new slippers.

It is not lost on her that the dress's ruffled collar failed to hide the crescent moon shaped marks that decorate the delicate curve of her shoulder, even with the ribbons pulled to their limits.

With one last look over Alastor's handiwork and a short detour to retrieve her glasses from the nightstand, Clover all but skips out into the dark hallway to follow after the promise of coffee; It's not until she'd closed the heavy oak of his bedroom door behind her that she remembers that she has absolutely no idea where she is going. Before she'd even had time to decide whether she'd risk wandering the labyrinth of his lair or simply sit still until he returned, a whisper of wind brushes the back of her neck, wicking away the water that still clung to her hair with a familiar chill.

"Which way to the kitchen?" Clover asked the Shadow, turning her head to look at where it loomed above her.

The Shadow's eyes narrowed as it chuckled at her, bobbing slightly above her head as it shook with laughter- At least, she assumed that was the case since the only thing she could see of it was the grinning viridian glimmer of voodoo peering at her through the darkness.

"Follow me, little rabbit."

Every whispered word that echoed through her ears was punctuated with a soft click, and one by one the lamps of the hallway to her right flickered on to light their way. The Shadow sped on ahead of her faster than her lazy legs could carry her, twisting itself to glide across the dark wallpaper and darting back beneath her feet as she caught up with it. Its claws reached out around her shoulder to push open a familiar door, the warm light of the kitchen passing through its body like gossamer as it blocked her way. Clover rolled her eyes at the antics of the apparition and ducked under its arm, folding her hands behind her back as she hopped upright on the other side. The Shadow's smile stretched impossibly wider as she tilted her head at it and asked a question she knew had no answer.

"...You don't drink coffee, do you?"

It disappeared back into the dark hallways with an echoed chuckle, leaving Clover to riffle through Alastor's kitchen alone. Even with his explicit admission, there was something incredibly naughty about looking through his cabinets, like any one of them could hold skeletons that should not be seen; There was also something incredibly funny about the mismatched metaphor that implied that Alastor had a human skeleton crammed in among the fine china. Still, Clover took extra care in opening the cabinets over the stove as instructed, half-climbing onto the countertop to peer into its depths in search of the promised prize and coughing at the dust she inhaled when what she found instead sank her heart into her stomach.

Inside was maybe the oldest drip coffee machine she'd ever seen sitting beside an equally antique grinder and a tin simply labeled "Coffee". Clover should have known better, she really should, but her glasses had been rose-colored up to this point to think about the time-period-specific parameters of Alastor's appliances. She'd expected perhaps a moka pot, or even an older espresso machine, but not what was essentially a teapot with a sieve built into it- At least the beans were kept whole, Clover sighed as she ground them rough enough to not slip through the mesh. Unwilling to just use the thing as originally intended, Clover elected to double strain the brew just to make sure there would be no unpleasant grit waiting at the bottom of her cup to ruin her morning and used the time it took for the water to boil to search what other goodies that lurked in Alastor's kitchen to be used to her advantage.

Somewhere between fiddling with Alastor's stove and questioning the origin of the unlabeled cut of meat sitting in his fridge, an earworm buried itself so deep into Clover's mind that she couldn't help but begin to sing along. Her feet slid across the clean tile as she lazily shuffled back towards the stove with a pitcher of cream in hand, pouring it into a copper pot and adding a heaping spoonful of sweet spices, and by the time it come to a simmer, she was utterly lost in her inner musical monologue.

"Who cares what they're wearing from Main Street to Saville Row…

It's what you wear from ear to ear, and not from head to toe… "

Hopping back onto the counter to fetch two mugs from the cabinet and pouring an indecent amount of sugar into her cup, Clover barely noticed the shadows leaking into the kitchen from the hallway as her toes began to tap with more gusto as she lowered gas flames. Her mug was filled halfway with the dark roast, the rest topped with the rich mix of milk and cinnamon and stirred until her coffee was the desired, familiar shade of tan. Her humming of the musical interlude looped back around as the floaty feeling of infatuation took over her feet, and her shuffle-ball-change wasn't nearly as sloppy as she'd expected it to be as she bounced her way around the kitchen island.

"So, Senator, so, Janitor…

So long for a while…!

Remember, you're never fully dressed without a smi- Holy fu-!"

Her little spin to sign off the chorus turned her around just in time to spy Alastor leaning against the doorframe, startling Clover so badly that her slippers nearly went out from under her as she collapsed back into the countertop. Despite Alastor's attempts to hide his chuckling at her behind his claws, his radio rang out with a chorus of applause and laughter that was echoed by the dark hallway beyond. Clover swallowed hard around the heart that had leaped into her throat so she could speak, rolling her eyes at the amused little skip to his step that carried him past her as he strolled into his kitchen.

"You have got to stop doing that."

"I see you found everything you needed." Alastor ignored her chastising in favor of pouring himself a cup of coffee, his fond eye turning towards her as she sidled up beside him and gathered the warmth of her mug between her palms.

"You have the oldest coffee pot I've ever seen."

Clover drowned the dry response in her coffee, her ears relaxing back as the warmth melted the stiffness in her joints, and her happy little hum of approval had Alastor chuckling into his cup.

"I feel the need to apologize."

"It's not that it's just- So simple, rustic. It's very you but in a different way." Her explanation meandered with her as Clover followed after him, her hip resting against the once-bloodstained counter as she watched him ponder the contents of his refrigerator. "And I can be a real snob about coffee, so don't worry too much about it."

"Would you rather one of those brass models, like the one at your shop?"

"Oh god, no- Those things are huge. And the older ones? Even worse. I think the little ones are a little too modern for you, but I will be buying you the first moka pot I find."

"Well! I have learned by now that there is no stopping you once you've made up your mind, but I must insist that you don't go wasting your money on me. While I do not know the going rate of payment for a barista, I can't imagine it is enough to be frivolous with."

"You'd be surprised."

Alastor's brow rose over the top of the stack of ingredients he'd gathered from his fridge on his way to the stove, stopping briefly to make sure the eggs did not topple over as he went and shooing her curiosity away from his cooking with a cinnamon-spiced kiss. It was almost uncanny how similar this morning felt to her first night in Alastors home despite the stark differences, the intense sense of intimacy that came with being cared for in someone's own home bleeding through the turmoil that evening had set upon them and staining the floor beneath her feet despite it's scrubbing; Each moment was special, a worthy contender for the scrapbook of their blossoming relationship that Clover kept tucked away in the facets of her heart, hoping for the day she could make them tangible enough to share with him. As wonderful as words could be, and how easily they tended to run away from her, she wasn't quite sure she could ever show him how special every second spent with him was without visual aid. It was obvious that Alastor knew he was a handsome man, a being of utter splendor that had dazzled her from the very moment she'd learned of his existence with a charisma that captured her heart in his claws with a simple conversation- But did he know of the seemingly insignificant things that made him so special, the tiny mannerisms so significant to him that Clover had come to simply describe them as "utterly Alastor" when no other explanation matched up?

It was the tiny twitch of his ears as his radio turned on, the warm hum of speakers and the buzz of static that caught on his breath. The soft timbre of his voice as he carried on alongside the music, the fact that he'd chosen to play the song still stuck in her head despite her singing, his long fingers curling around his coffee cup, the way his sleeves were so carefully pushed up to his elbows and the precise turn of his wrist as he whisked away into a hot pan; These were just the things that she could name now, in this exact moment as he moved about his kitchen, and she'd only just begun to analyze all that is Alastor by the time he'd finished his cooking.

She hadn't even had time to fully appreciate the immaculate imagery of his lean frame in a sweater, and a turtleneck at that- Though that just meant she had an excuse to look longer.

Clover couldn't help but give a delighted little wiggle when Alastor set an immaculate omelet in front of her, her stomach growling it's embarrassing approval as if on cue as he placed a basket of bread between them and settled into the chair across from her. A whiff of smoke caught her attention as she ate, the familiar smell of tobacco almost a comforting compliment to the dark roast of her coffee and the warm yeast of freshly toasted bread. Thinking back to the last time Alastor had left her to take a phone call, Clover decides to start their morning conversation the best way she knew how.

"You never told me you smoked."

He paused, fork stopping comically halfway to his mouth as Alastor blinked at the sudden question. The radio lowered its static to a more acceptable volume to speak over as he dropped his cutlery back to his plate and shifted in his seat, lowering his head to give his sweater a sniff that would have been discreet to anyone other than Clover. His ears flattened sheepishly before they flicked up again, one by one, as he cleared his throat.

"It's a nasty habit, one I don't partake in often- It dulls the senses, you know." Alastor tore a bit of bread in half, offering one piece to Clover before using his own to wipe his plate. "I'm happy to change shirts once we've finished here if it bothers you."

"No, it's okay, I'm actually kind of used to it."

"And worse I assume, with the company you keep at the cafe."

Clover snorted, but decided not to press on with deconstructing the animosity that still seemed to linger around any mention of Cyrus; She could sort out the social aspects of their relationship later when it wouldn't sour Alastor's mood.

"That too, but nearly everyone seems to smoke around here- Lollie, Cyrus, Angel, Husk, which makes sense since it was a much more common habit before science caught up and opinion turned in the 70s or so. My dad smoked, and so did my mom, my actual mom. It's weirdly…Nostalgic, if that makes sense." The smile that was slowly creeping further up Alastor's face alerted her that she had begun to ramble again, but despite the fleeting embarrassment that colored her cheeks, Clover continued on. "Plus, you don't smell like cigarettes. I'm guessing you smoke straight tobacco."

"You would be correct. I don't prefer the newfangled things, with filters and additives and such- I try to only smoke in my study or in the occasional social situation."

"Did you start after you died or-"

"Once I'd started working at the printers- It was just about the only thing I could find in common with my coworkers."

The pointed raise of his brow told Clover everything that she needed to know; As romanticized as life in Alastor's time might have been by modern media, she knew all too well the truth that lurked behind the veil of extravagance that had been draped over the era. Clover could never assume she would understand what that was like, for even as similar as some of their experiences were, no amount of cultural clarity could truly remove the filter of privilege from her narrow lens. Once again that warm brown replaced the muted gray of his skin as she looked him over from behind her glasses, her eyes lingering on the way his scars appeared in this form, still stark white across the darkened skin of his forearms but more infrequently scattered. Alastor returned to his deathly appearance as her glasses slid further down her nose, and after a prolonged moment it took Clover to finish her meal, a decision was made.

"Al- I need to tell you something."

"I was wondering when you'd come chasing that particular conversation."

Alastor stood to gather their dishes, pausing his fingers beside the bread basket as her brow furrowed at his response. It took far too long for Clover to catch on to what he was saying, but when she did, the butterflies beat their wigs against her stomach so fiercely she was afraid he'd hear she didn't speak quickly.

"Oh- No, it's not that- Well, it can be, if you want- I mean-" Clover stuttered, waving away his waiting hands with trembling fingers as she scrambled to steer this conversation back into its intended direction. "It's about the photo I took of you, and uh- Whatever this 'power' I have is."

The smile he'd given the sarcastic little motions she'd bracketed the mention of her magic with faltered before her fingers had finished their quotations, the teasing tilt melting away to reveal that awkward grimace he gave when he was unsure of something. Her heart ached, and Clover almost doubled back to return to his earlier assumption just to soothe his worries; But that wouldn't have been much better, right? Their relationship was more-or-less resolved, tied together with a pretty little ribbon and sealed with a kiss in the early morning hours, so the only continuation of that conversation would be how to broach the public with this information or to say- Clover washed down the rock that was forming in her chest with her coffee, chewing on the sweet crystals it left behind just in time for Alastor to snap out of whatever neighboring spiral he'd also stumbled down with a rough cough that didn't entirely clear his throat of it's crackling.

"What of it? You've not lost another photograph, have you?"

"No! You're safe- I mean, it's safe, in my bedside table with- Anyway, this is less about the pictures and more about me, or how I interact with…all of it, I guess…"

"Darling, this will all be easier if you just tell me," Alastor's voice carried over the sound of water drumming against porcelain as he distracted himself with washing up, glancing over his shoulder to reassure her as he spoke. "Whatever it may be, I am sure it is far simpler on paper than you're making it out to be."

"...I was talking to Lollie, about my- Power? Magic? Whatever it is, we were talking about it, and I realized that I hadn't ever told you that- That it goes a little further than name and pictures," Clover hated that he wasn't looking at her, that he hadn't come back to sit across from her to talk as they so often did, but she had no idea how to stop the words from running wild now that they'd been let off the leash. "Al- I, I see you. The human you. It's very fleeting, I've not quite figured out all the variables but, sometimes I just look at you and I see- You. Dark hair, warm eyes, glasses- I never mean to, it just- It just happens! And I'm sorry I haven't told you, it's just that everything has been so chaotic lately and I didn't know how to tell you about it or when the right time would be. It happened vividly the night you killed that demon for me, your reflection was human, and then it kind of- Just started blurring together more often. And I don't really do that with anyone else- I get flashes of, like, feelings, for some people but nothing like I do for…you."

There is nothing but running water to fill the silence, that hollow, high-pitched stream that never ends as Alastor freezes. Not even his ears twitch, stuck where they'd moved to listen to incessant rambling, twisted round between his antlers and standing straight up- Until one of them does, one tip of red flicking away the buzz of static that rises around him. Slowly, he turns off the tap and dries his hands, the movement almost too casual for the tension that squares his shoulders.

"Is that all?" Alastor's smile is much softer than expected as he lifts the coffee pot from the stove and moves to refill his mug. "Your magic is very new, I would never blame you for anything you did in earnest."

"I'm just…I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier."

Alastor hums, his eyes narrowing fondly over the rim of his coffee cup as he takes a long sip. Those eyes watch as she rises from her seat, her slippers shuffling timidly across the tile to take the last of the coffee for herself.

"You know-" His voice, now far closer to her ear than expected, nearly knocks the cup from Clover's fingers. "I think it's rather sweet that you've unknowingly found yet another way to draw out the secrets of those you hold dear. It's a charming bit of magic, for an equally enchanting girl."

The shoulder Clover nudged into his chest stuck as Alastor stepped closer, his fingers curling around the curve of her waist to keep her there as she attempted to wiggle away.

"You are an awful flirt, Alastor. Has anyone ever told you that?" Clover huffed, fighting against the amusement tugging at her lips and failing miserably as Alastor tilted his head in that incredibly endearing manner.

"I think that depends on the definition, my dear!"

He almost bounced against her as his chipper tone returned, his smile growing wider as she turned her head to look up at him and stretched up on her toes to steal a kiss. A swift change of subject helped to soothe the anxiety of her admission but did little to solve the adrenaline that rushed through her veins, and the rapid beating of her heart was only worsened by the double dose of caffeine she topped with more spiced cream.

"Who was on the phone?"

The question was twofold as she offered the remaining liquid in the pan to Alastor, who regarded the swirling cinnamon mixture with a raise of his brow before setting his cup beside hers to be filled.

"Husker. He was concerned about your well-being. I told him you'd made it here in one piece, and that you'd remained that way through the night, and he inquired about when we might return- He did not take the answer of 'I'm not sure' kindly."

"Oh- I'm sorry, I guess I kinda brushed him off last night. I wasn't really- In the right mindset to be polite."

"No, you weren't," Alastor chuckled. "It was rather refreshing."

Clover wrinkled her nose into her coffee, the disgruntled groan she gave rippling across its surface as she sipped. Now that she had time to think about her actions, Clover felt that she could have approached the whole ordeal with more grace, but she hadn't exactly been thinking clearly; She'd been far too focused on the destination, not those who she ran over along the way. Alastor pried her from her dwelling with gentle fingers that dug beneath the vice her grip on his drinkware had become, prying the coffee from her hands before she had the chance to drown herself in it and setting it on the counter between them.

"Husker is the last man that will hold a grudge over a lapse in manners. He cares about you, though it may be a task much like pulling teeth to get him to admit it."

"I know," Her pouting earned her another kiss, one that muffled her whining against the curve of his smile as he cradled her cheeks between his palms. "I don't know how I keep doing that."

"It's infuriating how little you seem to understand your own charm, cher."

Crumpling against him with a heavy sigh, Clover's will to argue was lost to that damned smile of his- And the fingers that combed through her hair, and the breathy laugh that lifted her cheek from his chest, and the encore of her earlier song that played softly in the background- It was an utterly targeted attack on the softness her heart held for him, a dirty trick on her tender soul orchestrated to bring her to ruin in his arms.

Needless to say, it worked.

Alastor held her weight as the drop of her adrenaline high carried her into static placidity, rocking her to the jaunty rhythm of the music until his ridiculousness had her giggling into his sweater and she squirmed her way out of his grasp to escape his jostling. The two fell together again as pleasant silence made another appearance in their morning, enjoying their coffee and the company of the other. The combination of caffeine and curiosity caused her to finally speak up over his radio, Clover looking up at Alastor for a beat before nodding her head towards the dark hallways beyond the open door.

"...Wanna show me around?"