Alastor walked through the front doors just as the nighttime was taking over, dragging his long shadow inside the main hall before him. He felt exhausted, and if Rosie's advice to lay down and recover was anything to go by, then he wouldn't be in shape to do much around the hotel for a day or two. Not that his lack of involvement would be noticed.
The sting on his chest, made him wince. He had grown used to his power, so feeling pain had become so foreign it was now a bit more annoying than what it was unbearable. Maybe that's why, against his better judgment, he made his way to the bar, deciding that he rather drown the sensation in the bottom of a bottle before having to go face the ceiling for a long restless night.
When he reached the bar, whatever lively and casual conversation Husk and Angel Dust were having quickly died as the bartender hastily grabbed an expensive bottle form underneath, serving him a drink before the Radio Demon could even ask for it.
"Thank you, Husker, my good man," he said, sitting on the stool, his static becoming louder as he unbuttoned his vest to keep the pressure off the stitches.
"Geez smiles, you look worse than me after a full day of shooting," Angel said, nurturing his own drink, "Did your lady friend showed you a good time?" he asked teasingly.
Alastor simply grabbed his glass of scotch, looking at the amber liquid, "The best." he said, unaware of what Angel was implying.
Husk grumbled in the spider's general direction, warning him to stop. The feline demon seemed on edge over Alastor's demeanor, as if waiting for him to snap his yellow smile and pull on the green chain around his neck, "What else can I get you, boss?"
Alastor just hummed, his sight still lost in the reflection, "He was rather peculiar, wasn't he?"
Angel and Husk exchanged confused glances.
"Who're you talkin' about, Smiles?" Angel frowned.
"That fella," he pointed at the painting of Sir Pentious that hanged proudly for everyone to see, "I can't decide if he was a foolish boy or a brave man." Angel clenched the glass on his hand, his brows knitting in anger, "Perhaps both!"
"Watch it!" Angel slammed his drink down, splashing around, "It's our friend you are talking about! He was the best of us! He did everything he could to save us after you failed to take out Adam! He sacrificed himself for us!"
Husk's face contortioned into a horrified grimace, he instinctively stretched an arm in front of Angel protectively, fearing of what the Radio Demon might do next, but to his surprise, a simple chuckle was the only reaction he got out of him.
"That's precisely my point!" Alastor said, "To die in the afterlife for someone else! How insanely courageous," he took another swing of his drink, swallowing it down with practiced ease, "It's rather funny. While alive, I could hardly remember him, but after his death, my mind keeps wandering about him." He mussed, "He did manage something I didn't" he pressed a hand over the wound, the one that should have killed him but miraculously didn't. The one that almost cost him everything. Everything so everyone else would be safe. "And I'll toast to that. I'm not easily upstaged, so I'll applaud the feat," he raised his glass towards the painting before finishing his drink in one smooth movement, as when he used to in those long nights he danced along Mimzy. He then stood up, ragged and weak as he felt, ready to welcome a sleepless night, "Have another drink on me, gentlemen. Pour yourselves some fine liquor and relish the fact you can enjoy it still," he gazed at the painting, "thanks to him."
Alastor sat in front of his desk, gazing intently at the deed before him. He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the table, humming to himself as if fighting the sound of his own static. He grabbed the piece of paper, reading the signature at the bottom of the page. Oh, how could one simple word carry so much power? In its own twisted way, it showed the supremacy of words over actions, because violence could only go so far, but a scribble on paper could be binding. As long as it was a name.
"Alastor?" he heard a knock on his door as it opened ajar, showing Charlie on the other side, "Got a minute?"
Alastor hastily unlocked his drawer, putting the contract away, "Charlie, dear, I'd greatly appreciated if you could give me a chance to answer before sneaking in a glance. I always found that the expression 'my door is always open' never cared for privacy, thus I don't use it."
"Sorry!" she said immediately, "Just, you know, we have this policy of no locked doors for the safety of the residents that I got used to—but you are not a resident!" she cut herself off "you are my business partner, and I should have respected your space and—"
"A forgivable sin," he said before she could ramble on "just bear that thought in mind for the next time. Your dear girlfriend has expressed her disgust of my eating habits, maybe this way I could spare you all the discomfort."
"Right, yes, sounds good," she said, fidgeting with the pages in her hand, "Am I interrupting something?"
Alastor gazed at his desk, "I was tinkering with the idea of writing a...thank you letter of sorts for Niffty," he said, "Now, was there something you wanted to discuss, my dear?" he stood up in a swift motion to avoid grimacing, circling around his desk to reach her.
"Actually, I do," she handed him the papers. Alastor fixed his monocle, reading the headline, finding it to be a speech, "I was invited to attend this meeting on the other side of the Pentagram, and I thought it'd be a good opportunity to invite sinners from that ring to join us! A lot of very influential demons will be there, even a few overlords."
"And who, pray tell, extended you this invitation?" he asked cautiously.
"Oh, I'm not sure, it just said it was from the committee," she said waving a hand, "I know they probably only added my name to the list because I'm Lucifer's daughter."
"Then you'll be mistaken," he said, "If that were the case, you should have been courteously invited the last few dozen meetings," he gazed at her, "Given recent events, I can only guess it's because of your marvelous display of power during the extermination."
Charlie shifted uncomfortably in her place, "I don't…I don't want to take part on that violence. It was a last resort for me, I don't want people to kill or be killed," she shrugged, "Maybe it'll send the wrong message if I assist." She muttered.
"Then, by all means, do attend," Alastor said, "And make your point loud and clear. It doesn't matter how you get an opportunity; it matters what you do with it," he patted her shoulder, "So go ahead and take the stage, make your speech," he handed her back the pages, going to sit down at the divan, "I'm all ears, dear."
Charlie smiled grandly, the sparkle in her eyes illuminating the otherwise grey room. She cleared her throat and began reading, infusing her usual cheerfulness into the words, making sure to make grand hand gestures and speak of a better tomorrow. Because maybe so, Heaven had no intention of letting the sinners prove their worth, but that didn't mean she would give up on their redemption.
"Because I believe everyone deserves a second chance, and we can still make of Hell, a safe haven."
Alastor chuckled at the discreet word play, but that soon turned into a fit of coughs as he held his chest, the gash acting up. Charlie stopped, handing him a glass of water, "Are you ok, Al?" she asked, taking notice not for the last time that his microphone remained splintered.
"Forgive me, my dear, please go on."
Charlie waited for him to take the drink, "Well, that's about the part I'm having trouble with," she admitted, "Now that I can't promise them a chance of entering Heaven, I'm…unsure of what I can offer."
Alastor hummed, "Other than protection, you mean?" he asked, "Same principle as to why you are invited to this event, people are starting to notice your strenght. Sinners feel safe inside these walls, safe from the extermination, from the gruesome reality that engulfs them, maybe safe enough to actually do your silly little redeeming exercises."
Charlie sighed exaggeratedly loud, "Which you are more than welcome to join."
"To what end, my dear?" he asked teasingly.
"To prove that you deserve a second chance to be judged!"
Alastor smiled more softly, his eyes gazing away, "May I remind you who you are speaking with, my dear? I'm no ordinary sinner. And I'll let you in on a secret, for those of us who earned our place down here, Hell is no real punishment. I played my cards, I pulled the right strings, made a grand entrance and now no one would dare even look my way."
Charlie folded her arms, sitting on the armrest, "Just because you have a long journey ahead it doesn't mean it's not worth embarking on it it."
"Let's say I know that my Odyssey can never be completed," he said, "No matter if the pearly gates of Heaven open allowing me entrance, I know I'd never belong, because regret and remorse do nothing for our victims. Without forgiveness, there's no real redemption."
Charlie's mouth hung open, but she couldn't find the words to say anything. She hadn't thought of that. She had been so focused on helping those who had done so much wrong that she didn't consider those who had been wronged, "I-I never looked at it that way," she admitted. "Maybe so, there's a lot of people who you've hurt, but—"
"One," he said, "I just regret the one and that's enough for me to know, I'm where I deserve to be."
"But is it where you want to be?"
"I'm the Radio Demon, Charlie."
"You used to say that more proudly," she said carefully, "Maybe you—?"
"Faced humiliation?" he challenged, crooking his head to the side in an unnatural way, "became unworthy of my title?"
Charlie clenched her fists, "All I'm saying is that I believe there's good in you," she stated more firmly, without letting the unsettling display intimidate her, "And I won't leave your side until you believe it too."
"Don't condemn yourself to a life sentence on my behalf, Charlie, dear," he retorted, "I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy."
"You are insufferable," Charlie agreed, "But you've also been here since the start, so you are stuck with me," she said with a cheeky smile.
"As I recall I'm order to help with this hotel for as long as I desire," he said in a singsong voice.
Charlie visibly recoiled at the mention of their first meeting, as if suddenly remembering that his presence was in no way guaranteed and that he had every right to just walk out the door and leave without looking back. The sudden memory of her own mother flooded her head, and she became still for a moment.
"And as luck would have it, I still desire to stay here and help," Alastor added, as if reading her troubled expression, "I'm rather fond of the show we are putting on and I want to see it through until the curtain comes down!" he laid back on his seat, "So, come on, deliver your speech once more and try not to read your notes, dear. It's easy to tell when something is spontaneous and when it's rehearsed! You should always keep some of your natural flair shine through!"
Charlie shook herself out of her thoughts, regaining her footing, "Okay! Let's do this, it's just like Cannibal Town."
"Now, that's a song I'd like to hear the encore of!" he praised, going to reach for his microphone to hand it to her when he remembered the state it was in. He halted his movements, keeping his smile from fading.
"…May I?" Charlie said softly, stretching her hand towards.
"I'm afraid it's still busted, Charlie dear."
"I-I know," she nodded, keeping that hopeful glimmer in her eyes.
Alastor gazed at his trusty companion, one of the sources of his power and a distinctive element of his character. That microphone was an extension of himself just as his shadow was. And yet, he didn't hesitate to hand it to her for a second occasion.
Charlie grabbed it, holding the two pieces together tightly, letting her own horns and red eyes take over her features, using her demon powers to try and restore what was lost, emanating an enormous amount of energy that filled the room with a bright explosion of light.
It was no surprise the sudden mayhem caught the attention of others at the hotel, as the door burst open, letting inside the King of Hell himself, who upon seeing his daughter in her true form, immediately processed to panic, thinking she was in danger. And the only suspect in the room was no other than the scarlet demon.
"Don't you dare—!"
"Dad, wait!" Charlie stepped in front of him as he was about to charge against Alastor, "Nothing's going on!" she showed the microphone that remained broken, despite her greatest efforts, "I was trying to fix it."
Lucifer quirked a brow, looking unimpressed at the artifact, "This old thing? Can't you use tape?"
"Adam broke it," Charlie said in a quieter tone, knowing it was a sensitive subject to talk about in front of Alastor when Lucifer was there. Her dad wasn't above bragging to the Radio Demon about how easily he had outmatched the first man, but it was still a sore spot for Alastor in ways she didn't even know about.
Lucifer hummed, looking closely at the microphone after that revelation "No wonder it was taking so much out of you, that's not something you can simply restore. Adam might have been a jerk, but he had access to an ungodly amount of celestial power."
Alastor instinctively rested a hand on his chest, feeling the stitches that hid under the fabric, "Thank you all the same for your good intentions, my dear," he said, standing up to recover his microphone, "I'll be heading to my room now, if you don't mind," Charlie looked almost disappointed to hear that, "Keep practicing your speech and try to project your voice to the other side of the room with a clear diction, let everyone in the whole Pentagram hear you," he smiled in an endearing way, transmitting a sense of confidence and reassurance.
"Right, thank you, Alastor" she said, "See you in the morning to prepare breakfast?" she added eagerly.
"Why of course! I wouldn't dare miss it," he smiled her way to then gaze back at Lucifer's stare as both meet each other's eyes with undying hatred.