Everyone deserves a place to call their own, even in Hell;

And while the metaphor of that statement was incredibly sweet, it was time Clover took a more literal approach.

The change had not been an easy decision; Despite her bad habits of chasing her morbid curiosity into the city streets, only to come home and hide away in her hotel room until the mood struck her again, Clover had grown accustomed to the constant companionship of living alongside her friends. There was no doubt that she would miss the little things- the rushed greetings as she left for work in the morning, the casual conversations over cooking, late nights at the bar, and maybe most of all, the happy little hotel she'd come to call home- but Clover knew that what matter, what truly mattered, would never be too far out of reach.

"Alastor," The demon in question froze as Clover called out, his ears pivoting to better hear her from her place in the next room. "Not on the top shelf. I don't want to have to climb up on the counter to reach them when you're not here."

Alastor hummed as he assessed the cupboard, head tilting sharply to one side before he dutifully moved her new plates down a shelf in the cabinet and retrieved the rest from the box at his side. The now empty cardboard disappeared with a soft "pop!", and Alastor turned on his heel to face the open kitchen in search of another- He paused when he found Clover peering at him through the pass-through between the living and dining area, arms propped against its shallow countertop and her cheeks cradled in her palms.

"You've always managed in my kitchen." Shiny black shoes clicked against the checkered tiles as Alastor crossed the kitchen and parodied her position, hands folded beneath his chin to frame a playful smile. "Besides, I was under the impression you quite liked sitting on the counter. I've not heard you complain before."

Clover sputtered at the teasing tilt to his grin and gave a quick look back to the empty room behind her before giving into temptation.

"Sitting on the counter and having to climb up my cabinets every time I want a bowl of cereal are not the same thing," Alastor's nose wrinkled adorably as she tapped a finger against its tip, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his grin growing wider with every inch Clover crept closer. "And if I remember correctly, almost every time I've been on your kitchen counters, it was you that put me there."

Static filled the tiny kitchen, stuttering around the hitch in Alastor's breath as Clover's fingers slipped beneath dark suspenders and tugged him across the counter, balancing on the padded balls of her feet so she could stretch across the space in between-

"Hey, toots!"

The front door flew open with a bang of patent leather against paneling, and suddenly Alastor was across the kitchen again, pretending to rearrange her dishware while his radio fought to fix its scrambled frequency.

Clover was beginning to think that maybe she'd been a bit silly to expect that moving into a place of her own meant that she'd have some privacy, but she could only hope that today's events would be the exception and not the rule.

"Where do ya' want this one?" The pile of boxes shuffling through the apartment door called out, and Angel Dust appeared from behind them a moment later, blowing his curls out of his eyes as he looked around the living room.

"Just put it beside the bookshelf! I can move it later-"

Clover stood up from where she'd collapsed against the counter with a huff, glaring at the back of Alastor's shirt from beneath her bangs and wishing she could will his suspenders to snap against his spine before she turned to help unload the boxes from Angel's teetering tower. As they set them into the corner between the dark wood of her bookshelf and the exposed brick, the radio tucked into the shelves turned on with a soft fizzle, its backlit dials twisting of their own accord as it attempted to tune itself to Alastor's frequency; It landed on a mellow jazz tune that sounded much more modern than anything she'd expect from the dated demon darting around her kitchen, but it was a fitting melody for the mood. Clover's mouth twisted as she looked over the barren expanse of the shelf beside it, its polished red too bright to be left unbalanced- She turned to the boxes at her side, fingers ghosting along their cardboard until she found the one that called to her. The stack sagged as she wiggled it from where it sat wedged in the middle, sending the box above tipping back against the wall before it dropped into the space left behind with a dull scrape. Balancing the box between her stomach and the bookcase, Clover flipped open the top and rustled through its contents.

Her camera joined the lonely radio, its rose-colored lens popping open with a flick of her fingers before Clover set the box aside and leaned into the swiftly solidifying shadows standing beside her.

"Starting a collection, I see," Alastor said. "Perhaps I should find you a record player, or perhaps a projector for your picture shows."

"I don't know- I like them as a pair. I don't think they need anything else."

The radio rippled as Clover tipped her head back to look up at him, the fabric of his shirt softly crinkling as she rested her temple against the warmth of his shoulder. Alastor blinked, the passing seconds he spent shifting his gaze between the radio and camera ticked down by the telltale twitching of his ears, until his eyes drifted to hers, their scarlet soft and warm in the sunlight streaming in from the open windows. Dark claws gently pried her arms from where they'd crossed across her stomach, and Clover's gaze wandered to the way his fingers lingered on the gold bracelet decorating her wrist, reverently tracing its engraving as he lifted her hand to his lips.

"I agree- but my offer still stands!"

With a quick kiss and a wink, Alastor was off again, scampering across her living room to fuss with whatever he fancied. Clover snorted, shaking her head at his ridiculousness as the radio returned to a mellow melody once again. The music quickly became backtrack to the muffled cursing spilling in from the stairwell, the sound growing ever louder as Clover wove her way through the clutter so she could hopefully help with the door- It swung inward before she could grab the handle, its bright red paint pressing into her palms as she held it open for the heavy tail leading the rest of their rag-tag menagerie of a moving party.

"If you want this anywhere s-s-special, you better say so quick," Cyrus hissed over the top of her couch as he hitched it higher, leaving just the thin slits of his eyes peering over the top of its velvet upholstery. "Before s-s-sour puss drops it again."

"Keep talkin' and I'll shove that cigarette so far up your ass you'll be breathin' f-"

"You can just put it in the middle, on the edge of the rug!"

Husk's grumbling was thankfully short-lived, the two men too focused on maneuvering around the sparse amount of furniture she'd already managed to move into her living room to continue their bickering; They swerved around the reading chair she'd taken from her hotel room, being careful to lift the couch's curved feet over the unsorted books stacked on top of her coffee table and almost tripping over the rug she'd haphazardly tossed on top of the hardwood. The tug-of-war Clover assumed had been happening on their way up to the apartment began again as they shimmied through the minefield of boxes, the two men taking awkward steps to avoid knocking into the wall and nearly taking out her new bar cart with Cyrus's tail along the way.

The bright bouquet decorating her side table wobbled as they set down the second-hand sofa just in time for Angel to toss himself onto the cushions, and Clover scrambled to steady it before it crashed to the carpet. She paused as the flower petals brushed her fingers, taking in their textures and wishing that their sweet-tart sender were here to help her wrangle the men currently helping themselves to her living room before flipping over the tiny card attached to the vase.

"May your new home be as sweet as you are! Sorry I can't be there today, but you know how it is. Love you lots bunny!"

-Lollie

A lighter clattered to the table beside the bouquet as Cyrus fell onto the couch alongside Angel, smoke curling from his nostrils as he sighed around a freshly lit cigarette.

"I should start payin' you less so you can't afford so much s-s-shit."

"It's cute that you think you pay me enough to afford this place," Clover said, ignoring his hissing obscenities as she snatched the paper from between his teeth; She returned the flicking at his tongue with a raspberry of her own before stalking off to toss the butt into the kitchen sink and shouted over her shoulder. "No smoking inside my house, I mean it- and that goes for all of you ."

"You should cut us some s-s-slack afta' all this work we've been doin'!" Cyrus called after her. "Or maybe' you'd wanna smoke a little somethin' else to take the edge off?"

The stern shake of her head earned her a heavy groan from the group of grumpy old men sprawled across her sofa; Husk heaved himself from where he'd leaned against its back to investigate the bottles cluttering the bottom of the bar cart, yellowed eyes lazily flicking over the labels. He plucked a short, stocky flask from the back of the collection and turned the label to Angel for approval, before pouring three hearty glasses of dark liquor. As Cyrus's head lifted from where he'd dropped it into the cushions to take the drink that was offered to him, his attention turned to where Alastor had tucked himself into her kitchen entryway to observe the chaos.

"S-s-so, what's the deal, Red? You can't do a little, uh-" Cyrus drawled, the lizard lazily rolling his wrist in a motion Clover assumed was supposed to mimic magic and wiggling his fingers for added flair before he continued. "Ring-a ding ding and just magic this s-s-shit up here for us?"

"I could, but the lady insisted it be done the old-fashioned way! I might have written the check for all of this, but she was who went searching across the city for - well, for most of it, anyway."

Clover followed the glance Alastor gave the four-poster bed sitting unmade in her bedroom, its heavy drapes pulled closed to hide the rumpled sheets from prying eyes- They'd spent far too long the evening before discussing whether it was right to shove such a beautiful piece of furniture into the far corner of the room, but Alastor's arguments had fallen flat when faced with the assertion that it was her bedroom, and if the bed's position had any impact on its use, that he was well within his right to decline her invitation to spend the night.

"Though I don't know why it's necessary-" Alastor continued. "Not when I have a perfectly good place for her in the Colony."

"And while I appreciate the offer, I don't want to live in the Colony- not right now. I spent my entire first year here living off of someone else's generosity, I think it's only right that I have a place of my own for a while," And it was impossible to argue against Alastor's insistence that she stay far away from the crossfire to come, so they'd had to compromise , but perhaps that bit was better left unsaid, Clover mused as she rejoined them in the living room and tucked herself against Alastor's side. "We were lucky to find this place at such a good price."

"And that its prior tenant was unlucky enough to meet an angelic end," Alastor added.

"That too."

"You got issues, kid." The pin-points of Husk's eyes narrowed as he looked at her long and hard over the rim of his drink, his words echoed in the half-empty glass as he considered its contents. "I haven't figured out what they are yet, but- you've got 'em."

"Next you'll be asking me what the condensation rings on the bar remind me of- bats or butterflies?"

"Hah! Sorry kid, my schedule's full. You may have gotten outta' the nuthouse, but I've got all I can handle hanging off my bar beggin' for martinis every other night."

"What the fuck is that supposed'tuh mean?"

Angel's outburst went unaddressed as Husk turned back to the tiny brass cart that served as her bar, ignoring the long arm attempting to hand him its empty glass as it dangled off the edge of the couch. Mumbled cursing in mixed languages filled the room alongside the tittering laughter from the radio as Angel heaved himself up from the low couch and stomped over to refill his drink. Angry elbows barely tapped their target as Angel shoved his way into the small space between the cart and her velvet recliner, jostling Husk's hat atop his head as the demon ducked down to return the bottle to its proper place.

"I can't believe you're leavin' me with this guy toots!" Angel shouted with a jab of his too-full glass to where Husk had wandered off to peruse the pictures pinned to her wall, the dark liquor sloshing dangerously with every word as he continued. "Who the hell am I supposed to talk tuh' now?"

"I'm just moving down the street. You'll see me all the time! It's not like I'm getting beamed up to Heaven, or whatever-"

Alastor's grip tightened against Clover's waist at the mention, but luckily, Angel's dramatics were enough to distract the room from the sound of the radio's skipping stations; Static settled into her stomach at the stroke of his thumb against her back, the tiniest touch hidden away from wandering eyes, but enough to reassure that she'd not said too much.

"Might as well be! Ya' know how much harder it's gonna be for us to have sleepovers? I can't just waltz down the hall and knock on ya' door anymore, we're gonna have'ta actually plan to hang out."

Clover looked to Alastor, waiting for that quiet confirmation that she knew would come as she shifted her weight away. At the nod of his head, she unwound herself from his arm and joined her friends at the room's heart, and Alastor trailed along behind her, led by the gentle tug of her hand in his.

"I'm only ever a phone call away, I promise. You're welcome here anytime, Angel-" Satisfied with Angel's now-brightened expression, Clover turned to the outlier sourly sipping at his drink while he stalked the far corners of the room, his wings tucked flush against his shoulders as he squeezed between stacks of teetering boxes. "And so are you, Husk."

"Outta' one hen house and into another? No thanks," Husk snorted, humorlessly.

"What about me?" Cyrus chimed in. "You didn't put me on the' invitation lis-s-st."

"I work with you. Isn't that bad enough?"

Clover punctuated her statement with the hollow "thunk" of her fingers flicking the sharp scales of his cheek before she scampered behind Alastor's snickering form to avoid Cyrus's attempts to retaliate. The echoed chuckle from the radio across the room returned her attention to where Husk had taken to thumbing through her DVD case, long claws flipping the plastic sleeves back and forth with a nonchalance that didn't quite reach his eyes; Their narrow pupils widened as he skimmed the more nostalgic of the titles, recognition softening the branching lines that crinkle in their corners, before he snapped the whole thing shut when Clover's voice raised above the rippling static.

"Now that I think about it, that Chinese place- You know, the one with the really good egg rolls?- Is like, right down the street," Clover tried to stifle her smile as she watched Husk's ears lift one by one from their flattened state, and her fingers paused their playful tapping of her chin to hide how the corners of her mouth crept higher at the slow turn of his head towards her. "I bet it gets here a whole lot faster than the hotel- would probably still be warm, too."

"... Well, someone's gonna have to come n' check in on ya' to make sure the boss isn't throwin' his weight around."

"S'not the only thing he's gonna be throwin, this is a lota' new furniture to break in!"

The radio screeched with interference at Angel's explicit implications, and every sinner in the sitting room flinched at the fast-paced flickering stations that followed; Alastor gave a sharp glance to his wrist as he untangled himself from Clover's arm, making a show of tugging up his sleeve so he could squint at the bare skin beneath.

"Would you look at the time!" His voice was too loud for the cozy, cluttered state of the apartment. It echoed back from the high ceilings unfiltered, an unearthly layer to the crystal-clear chatter that chased after his radio's stuttering static. "I suppose I should get going if I want to swing by the hotel and still make it on time for my meeting!"

"I'll walk you out-"

Clover tugged her sweater out from where Angel had fallen into a fit of laughter on top of it, sending the spider rolling away from the stern look she'd sent his direction as he collapsed into the snickering Cyrus's shoulder. The backs of her sneakers bent beneath bare heels as she hastily shoved them on and grabbed her keys from the hook beside the door, just in case. Alastor waited patiently while she put on her sweater, straightening his lapels with a sharp tug before offering her his arm, uncaring how his coat crinkled beneath her fingers as Clover clung to its familiar fabric and followed him out the door. The two took the stairs arm in arm, ignoring the echoing argument that had started up in her apartment in favor of the soft song he'd chosen as the soundtrack to their escape. The sound of their footsteps against the staircase had fallen into tempo by the time they reached the bottom floor, the percussive accompaniment Alastor's shoes pausing at the foot of the stairs- It all ended with a hollow slap of her sneakers as his hands took hold of her waist and hoisted her down the remaining steps, the two of them falling into a fit of giggles when their shenanigans nearly sent one of her shoes flying across the foyer.

Their stroll out of the building was much slower than their descent from the madness of her apartment above; It could have appeared almost calm compared to the hustle and bustle of the morning if Clover had not noticed the way Alastor hesitated. Every step seemed heavier than the one before, the weight of his palm in hers pulling her back from the door despite the steady gaze he'd locked upon it- Clover's shoes squeaked against decorative tiles as they stopped, and she turned to him with a curious tilt of her head, watching the way the shadows that passed by the rooms windows altered the warmth of his appearance, coloring him in a flash of cold gray before the soft rays of sun returned him to the way she liked him best. His monocle refracted across his dark skin as it caught the light, painting it a warm, ruddy red that somehow still stirred those frustrating, fluttery feelings in the pit of her stomach. She stared long and hard at that image, taking in every detail of his profile and hoping that prolonged exposure might burn it into her mind forever more.

Clover squeezed her eyes shut to make sure the memory developed, and when she opened them again, she found Alastor looking fondly at her through that rose-colored glass.

"You know," Alastor began, his voice soft among the broadcast before it disconnected from the feed, and continued without amplification. "You could come with me if you'd like! Business won't begin for another hour, and I'm sure the fellows upstairs will understand."

"To the Overlord meeting? Al, I'm not sure-"

"I know that it may not interest you but- Rosie has been asking about you again, and I'm afraid I won't be able to keep her from getting into the other's ears about it for much longer."

"Is Vox going to be there?"

One of Alastor's ears twitched at the mention, its tip flicking forwards as if to bat away a buzzing fly that had flown too close for comfort. Their last encounter with Vox had been uneventful, but grating; It had been foolish to think that he would have better things to do than broadcast his bravado across the Hells this soon after the Extermination, but apparently, their early evacuation from the city had given him plenty of time to simmer.

The look on Cyrus's face when Clover told him that the reason she'd been late for her first shift of the year was because she'd spent the last half hour arguing with a television in a second-hand shop window hadn't quite made the encounter worth it, but it had improved her mood enough to make it through the day.

"I don't think so. I doubt he's had time to recover from the last lashing you gave him with that quick little tongue of yours." Dark claws curled beneath her chin, catching it between finger and thumb so she could not escape the crookedness of his smile; Alastor regarded her sputtering at the sudden flirtation with a quirk of his brow, watching how her gaze dropped to follow the bobbing of his throat as he cleared it with a cough. "Though I can't say that I would mind seeing that little show again."

"Alastor-" Clover warned, though her words held no weight, for as much as Alastor may tease, she knew that he was simply distracting her from the unsavory turn their conversation had taken.

"But! All things with good time, and you are under no obligation to attend if you're unwilling, no matter how much Rosie may want you there."

The look in his eye was almost enough to convince her, their bright crimson wide and attentive as he waited for her response; Then the radio jumped to life, filling the air with a song that lasted a second too short for her to hear anything more than the sound of a piano's hopeful melody before it was swallowed by static as he scrambled to silence its interruption.

"I'm sure Rosie will manage," Clover said knowingly. "But I think I'll pass on the meeting. It just- it doesn't feel like my place."

"Well, you do have a talent for finding your way into places that were not expecting you- One can only wonder what you'd be able to do with an invitation!"

Clover sighed; This had been the topic of the first, and only, conversation they'd had regarding her contract since its signing. Unlike the other souls under Alastor's care, the slack on Clover's leash was seemingly endless, allowing her all the freedom of an unbound soul alongside all the luxuries of his protection; But those luxuries had come with an unforeseen set of expectations that she had no intention of meeting. It wasn't that Clover was ignorant of what the evolution of her involvement with Alastor could mean for her place in Hell's hierarchy; it was that she didn't care. Power had never been a factor as far as her feelings for Alastor were concerned, it was simply another piece to the puzzle of a man she'd somehow endeared herself to- and while she loved the part of him that embodied the Radio Demon, with all of his theatrics and twisted humor, it was Alastor that had stolen her heart.

That was the thought that pushed her to stand on her toes, and this time when Alastor bent to meet her, there was nothing to get in their way.

"I've got all the Overlord nonsense I can handle right-" Clover coaxed his fingers from where they'd fallen to trace the soft curve of her throat and brought them to her lips to place a kiss into the palm of his hand, before gently folding his fingers around the warmth left behind. "Here."

A soft sigh laden with static catches in his throat at her tenderness, and the sound that slips from between gently upturned lips beckons her closer. The broken timbre of his voice vibrates between them, its taste sweet on her tongue and its resonance settling over her skin like a warm blanket, its threads forever woven into her flesh to protect her from winter's chill. Alastor hums against her lips as they meet, reaching out to hold her steady as she wobbled on stretched, straining feet, and pulls her flush to his chest, uncaring of the intertwined hands he traps between them. He is a vision of daring crimson and warm gray, viewed from the letterbox lens of her lashes as she attempts to escape from his endless assault upon her mouth, turning her chaste kiss into something almost sinful with a gentle scrape of teeth. The heat of their bond burns between them as she presses back against his chest, digging the solid curve of the band around her wrist into his sternum until he grants her the space for much-needed breath. Alastor huffs between them as they part, a barely there whine that breaks the constant string of static-

What a convincing argument , Clover thought, but she knew better than to back down now, when there was most likely a better offer waiting in his back pocket for later consideration.

"But-" Clover said slowly, and Alastor reluctantly removed his eyes from where they'd lingered on her lips so he could give her his full attention as she continued. "Please, tell Rosie that I'd love to have her over for tea as soon as I'm settled in."

Alastor considered her for a moment before his wide shoulders sank in surrender. As his eyes dropped to where their hands lay curled against his chest, the radio caught an intriguing tune that rippled with static when he slipped his fist from beneath her fingers. Clenched claws twisted and turned, opposing the tilting of his head as he made a show of attempting to peer through blackened fingers, before he began to unfurl them joint by joint to get a better look- The "smack " of his skin as he suddenly clapped his hands together, pretending to hold the kiss she'd given him between cupped palms was only slightly louder than the loud snort Clover let out at his startled little expression. Alastor gently shifted her affections back into one hand, opened his jacket pocket with the other, and tucked the kiss inside; He gave it a proud little pat once he'd finished his charades, and looked at her with a wide, satisfied smile.

"I'll be sure to relay the message."

"What am I ever going to do with you?" Clover asked through her giggles.

"I believe it's a little late to be asking that question, darling."

The well-natured roll of her eyes Clover gave him earned her a soft chuckle, the sound echoed in his radio as Alastor materialized his microphone with a twirl of his fingers. It tapped against the tile, echoing off the grand foyer's high ceilings and rattling the stained glass windows with its reverberation. The front doors blew open of their own accord, and the couple stepped out onto the building's shallow perron, turning the heads of the bustling group of demons that had been chattering across the street as the radio began to broadcast. The sinful paparazzi scattered at the sight of the Radio Demon, snapping photographs over their shoulder in an attempt to capture the couple's private farewell.

Clover can't help but regret that those images would soon be as corrupted as the sinners who had captured them; She imagined that those pictures would have been cute enough to keep.

"See you for dinner tonight?"

Her question is almost a whisper when spoken against the onslaught of static that surrounds them, so soft she'd assumed he hadn't heard her until Alastor stops mid-step with a snap of shiny shoes against stone. That too-wide smile she'd grown so familiar with appears as his neck twists to regard her over the sharp planes of his shoulder, revealing the narrowed pinpoints he'd dialed towards the last of the lollygagging demons, and Clover watches as those eyes melt into chocolate on cherries, sweetened by their softly crinkled corners as he turns to her. That warmth winds its way around her wrist, turning the tepid metal of her bracelet so hot that she had to look down to make sure that they'd not dripped molten gold onto his shoes; When she was assured their leather was shiny and clean, the tips of his toes stopped just shy of the scuffed rubber of her sneakers, her gaze shifts to the gentle stroke of his fingers as he takes her hand, and speaks his answer against her skin.

"I wouldn't dare miss it."

Alastor's kiss is lingering, an unsaid promise he presses against her skin like a seal, and once again Clover feels the need to check that the liquid heat spreading across her skin had not somehow stained his suit. Satisfied with the gentle squeeze she gave his fingers, Alastor let her hand slip from his and turned on his heel, taking the short staircase with quick side steps that reminded Clover too much of those grand ending numbers in old musicals for it to not be at least partially on purpose- and when he wore a grin like that , there was no doubt in her mind that it was. His ears turned back to listen to the soft laugh his theatrics inspired as he straightened his suit with a sharp tug, pulling the fabric into place over wide shoulders and smoothing the creases their canoodling had caused. Shadows stretched to meet him as he set off down the street, reaching past their lazy afternoon elongation to greet the Radio Demon. Their curtain parts as he steps into the sunlight cast across the crossroads, a soft spotlight reflected off the windows of a nearby building to welcome the grinning demon to his stage- and Clover watches from the comfort of the wings until he's gone, turning the corner with a flourish of swishing coattails.

Without Alastor at her side, this little section of the city was too quiet for Clover to stand for long; But there she stood, ears pressed forward to listen as the tapping of his shoes receded into grumbling sounds of the city, until she could no longer hear the echo of his radio bouncing off the buildings back to her.

Absentmindedly humming the tune that had long faded to dead air, Clover heads inside with a sharp pivot that sends her ears swinging, but pauses as she catches her reflection in the front door's glazing. The wobbly glass warped her image like water, twisting the picture's perception, but Clover recognized herself all the same. Her mirrored limbs look too long as she reached out to grasp the door handle, the lopsided position of her ears almost comical as she tilts her head at the bunny in the window and scrunches her nose, watching how the expression twists her smile into something almost too wide, too sharp, for it to belong to her simple, soft features.

A flash of sunlight glints across the glass as she pulls open the door, coating the room in rainbows as she steps inside and allows it to float closed behind her.

Her foot meets the tile with a heavy but hollow "thunk", and Clover looks back to meet the eye of her reflection again. A swirl of color set deep into sun starved skin stares back at her, splotches of green and caramel blurred together like harvest-time candy by the imperfect lens, the eyes of her mortal counterpart narrowed at the corners and soft with a smile that she happily returns; The image grows hazy, rippled by the rush of a car passing by, and Clover is gone before it can return, taking the stairs two at a time.

Muffled arguments echo from up above, a layering of low voices that bounce off the narrow stairwell, and Clover prepares for the worst as she steps onto the landing. The chatter within only grows louder as she nears the door, vibrating the painted wood against her palms as she turns the key in the lock and peeks inside, her head turning to take in the bustling back and forth taking place in the living room;

Which was rather silly, since it was her apartment.

"Yeah, s-s-so we need one order of Lo Mein- What kind? Uh, hold on-" Cyrus pulled the phone away from his mouth just enough so that he wouldn't blow out the eardrum of whatever poor soul had the misfortune of dealing with three old-timers trying to order food without a menu, and shouted across the room. "Hey! Shrimp, pork, or chicken for the noodles?"

"Chicken!"

"Pork!"

"Make it shrimp," Cyrus said into the phone.

The deadpan denial of accepting either of the answers given to him had Clover snorting into the sleeve of her sweater as she stepped into the room and kicked off her sneakers. Angel's head popped out of the kitchen a moment later, the sharp scowl he'd prepared to hurl in Cyrus's direction quickly switching to a dazzling smile when he noticed her standing in the doorway.

"Hey toots- Back so soon?" Angel barely waited for her reply before he turned to shout at Cyrus. "Ask 'em if they got sesame chicken!"

"And don't forget the egg rolls!" Husk added.

"How the fuck am I s-s-supposed to order with all of you yellin' at me?" Cyrus grumbled as he ran his claws across his face, tangling them into shaggy blonde hair with a heavy sigh that sank him deeper into the couch's cushions. The narrow slits of his eyes turned to her as his bangs slipped from between his fingers, clumped together with the leftover product he'd used to slick it back from his face for the day. "What about you, Cloves? Order whatever you want- S'my treat."

"That's alright, I've got dinner plans- but add some crab Rangoon to share, and I'll steal a couple."

"S-s-sure thing, doll, the leftovers are stayin' with you anyway-"

As the conversation became cluttered by questions, Clover slipped away; Her hands followed the too-bare wall to her bedroom door in search of sanctuary while the boys bantered, but found none in the mess coating her bedroom floor. With a soft sigh, Clover ventured past the minefield of half-unpacked boxes and hastily removed clothes to grab her phone from the cardboard currently serving as her makeshift bedside table, lazily inputting her passcode when she noticed the messages waiting for her in the notifications.

Lollie: How's it going?

Vaggie: Charlie & I r done, do u want us 2 come over? Myb w/ Niffty? LMK

Fingers hovering above the screen, Clover leaned to peer through her open door when another shout followed the softened smack of fur on scales- and decided to answer their questions in the best way she knew how.

She returned to the living room, opened the phone's camera, and turned the screen sideways to snap a picture.

None of them noticed as she captured a candid of their chaos; Even Angel had been too preoccupied with bending over the back of her couch to bark orders into Cyrus's cell phone while the lizard leaned over to avoid him, his long legs bent awkwardly to accommodate and his tail flicking irritably against her carpet. Clover snorted at the still she'd caught of Husk, the tops of his ears barely visible from over the side of the bar cart as he awkwardly scrunched to fit between the furniture so he could duck down to fetch another bottle, his half-filled glass held out beside him. She sent the photo without explanation, before saving it to the folder in her phone marked "To print" until she had time to find it home among the other memories she'd planned to plaster her walls with-

Clover wasn't sure how the hell she was supposed to finish unpacking, let alone decorating, her new apartment with half a dozen has-beens and harlots to handle, but looking at the three demons currently squabbling over whether they should put in their order for takeout or delivery, she decided that there was no need to rush.

After all, eternity left an awful lot of room for opportunity; And with friends like hers, anything could happen.