Four hours.

Four fucking hours.

That's as long as Clover was able to sleep she was awake again, staring at the odd patterns of the wallpaper until they warped before her tired eyes. When breathing through numbers proved fruitless, she rolled out of the tousled bed, barely missing banging her foot on the tall four posts as she stumbled to the pile of folded clothing she'd worn earlier in the day. She tugged the gifted sweater over her pajamas, deciding that she didn't care if anyone saw her bare knees beneath her silk sleep shorts this late in the evening. A new pair of sneakers were slipped on without socks, and she briefly paused to ponder at the pads of pink that decorated the balls of her feet and heels before quietly slipping into the hallway.

She'd planned to just sneak into the kitchen for a drink, perhaps find a library or media room of some kind to entertain herself until she felt the need to rest return; All of that went out the window as soon as she'd stepped onto the landing to continue down to the first floor, the sounds of soft music and mumbled talking drifting up from the lobby. She felt her ears lean forward, as pulled by interest in what might lay below as she was, and Clover continued her descent. The mystery of the noise was quickly solved when she reached the bottom, her sneakers pausing before the last few steps so she could survey the scene.

The lobby was dimmed for the late hour except for the soft warm lights set into the interior of the bar, and empty except for the single patron and its attendant. The darkness outside of the small lights set into the stairwell for safety and the glow emanating from the bar's lonely corner seemed to shift in her peripherals, but all was still when she focused on what might have been. Ignoring the chill that blew across the backs of her knees, she forced her to return to the figures that certainly seemed to be more than mere figments of her overactive imagination.

Alastor was seated at one of the bar's few stools, chatting idly over the top of a newspaper while Husker slouched into the countertop in front of him. Neither of them looked up when she finally took the leap into the lobby, but the tiniest twitch of Alastor's head towards her meant at least one of them had noticed her. It was only when she slid into the empty bar seat, making sure to leave one between her and the red-suited demon beside her, that Husker bothered to look up; The awkward silence as feline eyes looked her over was quickly broken by the flick of a radio station and the cheerful tone of Alastor, though noticeably softer than it had been during daylight.

"I see sleep has escaped you, my dear-" He flipped the page of the paper as he spoke, pausing to analyze its contents before continuing. "Perhaps a little refreshment and some company will ease your thoughts tonight."

Clover couldn't help but watch the way he held himself, her attention drawn to the small quirk that drew his smile further upward before he fixed his eyes on her; When it became obvious that he was waiting for a reply, she quickly cleared her sleep hoarse voice before speaking.

"It's never come easily for me- I guess some things never change, not even in death."

"Join the club sweetheart," Husker pushed himself upright, quickly and unknowingly asserting the fact that he was far taller than Clover had first assumed, before turning to fiddle through the bottles of cheap booze in the near prohibition era bar. "Whaddaya want?"

"Uh, I'm fine th-"

"It's complimentary for my guests, I can assure you."

She blinked at Alastor's interruption, catching his knowing glance as he folded his newspaper with sharp creases and placed his hands on the bar's countertop. After that thinly veiled invitation, it seemed rude not to order anything, so Clover swiftly sifted through her limited knowledge of liquor and landed on something that sounded appropriate for the circumstances.

"An Old Fashioned then, thank you."

"Make it two, Husker."

"I'll make it three just to get you to shut the fuck up."

Alastor's smile didn't falter, not even at Husker's snark, and the bartender's scowl shifted back into the apathetic surprise he held at the order before turning to complete it. Once the drinks had made their way to waiting hands, another silence fell over the bar, Clover taking to sipping at the cheap bourbon to fill the void; Alastor grew tired in the lull of conversation quickly, and with a buzz of static began to idly flicker through radio signals before settling on a soft tune. The seemingly casual display of power struck the cords of curiosity in her, the vibrations dulling her nerves as she set down her glass and stepped into whatever dance those wavering melodies led her to.

"So-Radio Demon, huh?"

"I see Vaggie has taken it upon herself to truly introduce us."

"I asked, she answered- You can blame me for it."

Alastor's head turned to her at that, a sharp, startling motion, and the newspaper he'd been holding disappeared with a " pop!" as static began to distort the pleasant tune he'd been playing.

"Curiosity killed the cat, dear."

"Fuck you."

Clover barely caught the soft huffing, curse that came from Husker at the phrase, too caught up in the daring grin and soft threat of the sharp teeth behind it sitting behind her; Despite her blood running a bit cold, she somehow found a bit of fight in her.

"Good thing I've become a rabbit now, isn't it?"

She'd hoped that the comment would land, but she hadn't expected the roaring laugh that followed it. Alastor crumbled, slamming a hand on the counter with a sharp "smack!" as the short bark of a laugh that had escaped him was echoed by his broadcast. Husker looked near terrified, his pupils growing wide as his eyes darted between the two of them while he poured himself another drink. Clover wasn't quite sure what to do to move the conversation forward, but she didn't seem to need to worry, because Alastor continued with new vigor.

"Well, if it's a proper introduction you had been looking for darlin', you've found it!" His voice was so clear it cut through the room, his amplification dialing back from the volume it had taken on with time. "I do not prefer that title in common conversation, so I would rather you continue to use my name. Are we quite clear?"

"Crystal, but that makes me want to know- Is the radio personality thing something you did before you d- before you came here?"

"I'd had many years to perfect my 'thing', as you so aptly put it before it became my calling here."

"And you've been here a while, haven't you?"

"That depends on your definition, I suppose!"

Husker pushed another glass in Alastor's direction, pausing a paw over Clover's half-empty one- She downed the rest, fully aware that both men were watching her with varied levels of interest, before gently handing the empty glass to him with a nod and diving back into the conversation.

"Do I get a time period or am I going to have to guess?"

"Oh, a game! I quite like the sound of that!" Alastor said brightly as he braced an arm against the bar top and set his chin into his palm; It was uncanny how quickly his mood seemed to shift. "You're welcome to sleuth out this little mystery if you please, I'd love to hear your thoughts."

"I can't tell if you're being serious or dismissive, either way, you've got an awfully flirtatious way of getting around it."

Now Husker chuckled at her choice of words, his glass slamming against the countertop as he dragged his wrist across his mouth and leaned into the conversation.

"Careful sweetheart, you keep talking like that and people are gonna think you've gotten yourself into trouble with more than one older guy."

"Something like that."

He froze at the soft addition, staring at her with something that looked almost like regret; It was gone with a rough cough that cleared his throat, Husker's elbows braced against the cherry wood as he gave her a once-over from beneath a furrowed brow before he asked the one thing she'd not wanted to talk about tonight.

"What the fuck did you do to get yourself down here anyway?"

Clover blinked at the sudden turn in conversation, doing her best to avoid the bartender's accusing gaze while she ran through her options; Was this question genuine, or a way to get to a soft spot? She didn't have a reason to be wary of any of these people, but that didn't keep her from feeling uneasy about opening up so soon. She'd vowed earlier not to start judging people before getting to know them, even in death- But would her weakness make them think less of her? She had no idea what either of these men had done to warrant an eternity of torment, though with Alastor's reputation she was sure it wasn't as simple as stealing gumballs- Meanwhile, Husker's demeanor and placement as the hotel's bartender and pseudo concierge made her think his sins were that of the gluttonous, greedy sort.

Playing coy and flirting her way through the conversation had gotten her this far, so she hoped it wouldn't hurt to continue the trend.

"I've been under the impression that that's a question you're not supposed to ask down here."

"Listen, kid, I'm just lookin' at ya' and I can't for the life of me figure out what a gal like you could've done to piss off heaven."

"Now Husker, don't bother her," Alastor interjected. "You should know better than to underestimate people."

The warning in Alastor's tone didn't go unnoticed, Clover once again drawn to him as the static faded and his voice cleared, sounding more like he was sitting next to her instead of transmitting himself through radio lines. Husker didn't seem to care, his eyes rolling as he sunk back down into the counter and grumbled through his next statement.

"Look- It's not like I fuckin' care if you're a harlot or a junkie or whatever, but you're a fuckin' rabbit so I'm inclined to think that you're not exactly a hardened killer."

Clover snorted into her drink, her eyes taking in the airplane-positioning of his ears and the narrow slits of his eyes as looked at her.

"And you're a cat so I'm inclined to think you're-"

"Lazy, unsociable, unreliable, self cen-"

"Emotionally complicated."

Husker laughed, short and full of emotion that was hard to discern through his uncaring exterior before he drowned it in the rest of his drink. That was the opening Alastor had seemed to be waiting for, the demon setting his glass down with a " clunk" before slowly sliding it across the bar towards its tender, purposefully drawing out the grinding of glass on wood.

"It's ignorant of you to assume that one's form displays their character, Husker, when we all know that this place is for punishment."

The annoyed twitch of the tufts on top of Alastor's head drew her attention to them, and Clover took this chance to truly study him; Her first look at him had just blinded her with his radiant personality, the sharp scarlet he dressed himself in presenting himself as one glaring warnings sign and his quick-fire chatter leaving little room to truly listen. Now that she had the chance to look again, Clover took careful note of the little things that she hoped her liquor-riddled mind would remember later before her eyes settled on the obvious antlers that sat on top of his head.

"You're a deer?"

Alastor's smile widened, his eyes flicking pointedly to the bars mounted taxidermy before they narrowed curiously down at her.

"You are set on knowing me, aren't you?"

"Just making mildly friendly conversation."

"Geez kid," Husker snorted, joining in their banter once again. "What are you, a narc?"

"Does working for a newspaper in college count?"

Both men laughed, the thick air that had settled seeming to lift as Alastor reached behind the bar to retrieve a bottle of honey-colored liquor. It wasn't obvious when exactly the three small glasses had appeared in front of him, but Clover tried not to think too much about it while she watched him fill them all with equal amounts; He handed one to Husker, kept another for himself, and slid the last of them in her direction with that never-ending smile.

"If you truly want to play this game, then I say we make this interesting!" Alastor spoke with all the energy of classic radio renewed, his hands drifting between the three of them as he offered up his rules. "Two questions, from each of us, four in total to the other, and if you refuse to answer- You drink. Sound fair enough?"

"There's no winning or losing?" She asked.

"Of course not!- Not unless you decide to lie again , dear."

Clover's heart stopped at the pointed tilt of his head, its weight dropping into her stomach to bob unpleasantly among the alcohol that was already beginning to take its toll on her. The soft green flow that lived in every crack of the floor beneath them seemed to grow brighter, and a gentle creaking like that of limbs in a storm drew her eyes to the skeletal sockets that stared down upon them; Her eyes lingered on the stag, swearing she saw the shadows of it's antlers twist ever so slightly before it all disappeared with a startled blink.

"This is stupid." Husker groaned.

"Well, you don't have to play with the lady if you don't want to," Alastor was leaning into his palm again, grinning over the tops of his fingers in a way that reminded her far more of a cat than she supposed it should with Husker standing in front of her. "This is a gentleman's game, and since there is some honor involved, perhaps it would be best if you abstained."

"Alright asshole! I'll fuckin' play, and you're first!"

Scarlet eyes turned to hers, and after a few moments of her dumbly staring at him, the quirk of Alastor's brow told her that he was waiting for her to agree. As much as the game seemed to be thought out to please her, she couldn't help but feel like he was planning to get something out of this as well; But she couldn't think of a good reason to say no, no matter how hard she tried.

"Sounds fair," Clover said with a shrug.

"Excellent! Now-" Alastor's head tilted comically to look at Husker, the bartending blinking sourly at his wide smile. "Since you so kindly asked me to begin this occasion, I've been wondering how you've been enjoying your new employment."

"Fuckin'- It's fine, I guess. Free booze and a place to sleep isn't something to scoff at."

"Asked and answered! Now, my dear-"

Clover swore she could feel her hair stand on end as he turned to her, that sudden sinking feeling that she'd only experienced when faced with someone who seemed to already know all the answers sending the floor spinning away from her feet- It was she was being interrogated her for a crime she'd never committed, by someone who was already convinced she was the culprit. Alastor paused for a moment, the static around him crackling contemplatively before he leaned into her with new interest.

"What is it specifically, that you think, damned your soul?"

It was getting hard to breathe, having him so close to her. His height made it easy for him to crowd into her space with just a shift of his weight, one foot meeting the floor with a sharp clack of shiny shoes that felt far too loud above the rushing of blood behind her ears. It took all of her resolve, fueled by cheap liquor, not to sink into her seat and break away from his gaze; Even as her heart rattled in her ears, something about that smile begged her to play his game.

"I threw someone off a building, I assume that was enough to seal the deal."

It wasn't a lie, just a version of the truth- He'd never said anything about having to speak plainly.

"Shit kid.."

Clover ignored Husker's sigh, too caught up in watching Alastor; His eyes never left hers as he mulled over her answer, and just when she thought he'd figured her out, he abruptly turned on Husker with that charismatic smile.

"Your turn, my friend!"

Husker seemed immune to Alastor's bombastic personality, sighing deeply before turning to Clover with a grimace.

"How old are you, kid?"

"Twenty-five."

"Fuck, you look younger."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Is that your question?"

Clover couldn't help but smile, shaking her head at the odd banter she'd been able to keep up with the apathetic barkeep before settling into thought. She caught her lip in her teeth and chewed as she searched for something to ask him, cursing herself for being more obviously interested in the red devil beside her than anything else; Wearing her emotions, no matter how innocent they were, on her sleeve seemed to be something something she'd never be able to stop. Finally, she sat up with a start, finding her question in the answers she'd already been provided with.

"Why do you care about who I am or why I'm here?"

Husker fumbled, scowling harder than she'd seen so far. The stubborn glance down into his glass made her think he was going to back out of the question, but with a heavy sigh, he answered more earnestly than she'd expected of him.

"You remind me of someone, kid. And you're too damn polite, we don't get a lot of that down here."

"Ah, my friend, is there someone that cold heart of yours is softened to that I'm not aware of?"

Alastor's question seemed to hit a sore spot; Husker downed his shot, glaring at Alastor over the rim all the while before he slammed the glass back down onto the bar and poured himself another. Alastor didn't seem phased, watching with idle interest as the disgruntled bartender drug his wrist across his mouth and pointed a claw in his direction.

"What the hell are you gettin' out of this game anyway, I know you Alastor, this isn't just some party game."

"Why, I'm just learning about our new guest! It's not often that I make the acquaintance of someone so new in town so quickly and without outstanding circumstances!"

"You tryin' t-"

"I believe it is the lady's turn, Husker."

Clover blinked as the edge of Alastor's tone turned its metaphorical blade to her, looking between the two of them while she scrambled for another question; A million of them flashed through her mind, all simple questions with simple answers, and none of them felt good enough. Her brain began to wrack through her endless list of usually useless information, trying to pull points in time to puzzle together this man, in a way that would be slightly more entertaining for all of them. Every bright spark she found fizzled before she could truly grasp it, and she could feel her face growing hot the longer Alastor stared expectantly at her.

"You can always skip your turn, cher."

The term of endearment echoed in her mind's eye, and Clover became instantly annoyed that she hadn't picked up on the signals before; The slightest twang of the syllable felt too familiar to her to leave alone, and another look at the bars disconnected décor solidified her confidence that her assumption held some weight.

"You're from Louisiana, so it's not a long jump for me to guess that you've had something to do with voodoo along the way- Right?"

"That was far closer to a collection of correct statements than a question."

"So I am right, then."

Alastor looked at her for a long moment, a sharp tilt of his head punctuating the intensity of that look before he straightened sharply and rapped his knuckles on the counter.

"And here I thought you were going to ask questions like my dear friend here-" An open palm directed itself towards Husker at the mention before he continued on with a dramatic sweeping of his hands that looked very much like he was attempting to conduct them through this conversation. "'How old are you?', 'Why are you in hell?', or that query you had earlier. You're full of surprises my dear! Your assumptions are correct, though I do wonder how you so easily guessed-"

"You have an accent, very slightly, that falls away from the Transatlantic one. It came out when you slid into French- I lived far enough south to know Creole when I hear it."

She was just relaxed enough on her liquor to drop her voice back into the accent she'd grown up with, the familiar twang falling easily from her lips. It was far more farmer than belle, and wasn't something she'd ever been proud of growing up; She'd done her best to rid herself of it during her teen years, but it had faded into a much more neutral tone that disguised itself well in most situations as she'd gotten older.

Her little trick with it drew another sharp laugh from Alastor, who regarded her with a curious little tilt to his smile before he turned back to Husker with a flourish.

"Your turn!"

"I just went you-Fuck. Fine," Husker sighed deeply, looking between the two of them before suddenly sitting up straighter than he had all night and turning to Clover. She could almost hear the click of a lightbulb coming on somewhere behind shadowed eyes, though she wasn't quite sure what illuminating query was coming. A sharp tug on her sweater sleeve drew her attention from the once again flickering channels of Alastor's radio, which seemed to quicken as Husker shot a confident glare in his direction before turning back to her. "You buy this when you went shopping with the other broads? I swore you were wearin' it on your way out of here."

"No, they were waiting for me after I took a shower."

"I didn't see the girls go get ya' anything."

"Vaggie didn't seem to know where it had come from either, I just assumed that-"

"Well, ain't that interesting!" Husker's sour expression split with a shit-eating grin as he turned to Alastor, leaning one elbow onto the counter in a mocking sort of way as he addressed the demon whose radio had begun to shift with static. "S' a good color on her, isn't it Al?"

"You've no more questions for me now, Husker."

"Then drink, asshole."

For what felt like an eternity, all was quiet except for the rising static that had completely warped the music Alastor had been playing. The two men beside her were caught in what could only be described as an increasingly tense staring contest, the air around them seeming to swell in the way a summer heat warps the sky and glimmers a subtle green; Clover's instincts screamed for her to back away before their simmering bubbled over, but her more rational mind felt like any movement at all would startled them, which might have been much worse than simply sitting back and allowing them to solve this themselves.

As suddenly as it all started, it stopped; Alastor turned to her with a surprisingly pleasant expression, the radio tuning itself to a lively swing with a loud click that cleared the air so quickly it made her head spin.

"Why of course it is! It's a lovely color, but you would look much brighter with a smile my dear! You're never fully dressed without one!"

The tap of his finger underneath her chin felt like touching a live wire, her entire body jolting at the contact; His hand retracted quickly, hovering between them as his fingers rolled together, and Clover couldn't stop her fingers from pressing into the place he'd touched. Maybe it was the sinking feeling that settled her heart into her stomach, maybe it was the warmth that burned from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, or maybe it was just the alcohol proving more influential on her than she'd thought, but the question that had been sitting dormant at the back of her mind since Vaggie had warned her tumbled out without hesitation.

"How often do people actually try to get to know you, and listen?"

Alastor froze, his fingers curling into themselves as his hand reeled back from where he'd left it lingering above the empty seat between them. A short intake of breath from the other side of the bar told her Husker was equally stunned, but she didn't care to look at his expression to know that her question had struck something in the so-called ' Radio Demon'. The squeal of feedback that tore through the melody that surrounded them spoke volumes, as did the emptiness that seemed to unsettle his constant cheerful confidence- For a second, there was a flash of something more human sitting next to her than he seemed willing to show, and it was gone quicker than it had appeared. Dark eyes refocused on her, causing her ears to twitch to attention as he spoke in slow, uninterrupted syllables.

"Not very often."

"That's a shame."

His eyes narrowed, a brow raising in interest keeping the expression from bordering on terrifying as his head tilted at her and Clover could only stare, blinking behind her glasses as this demon, this man, held fast to her gaze- When Alastor finally spoke, she swore her heart stopped all over again.

"You're not afraid of me, are you?"

Warning signs flashed red in those eyes, his pupils narrowing to sharp points as flickered over her form to take in how her breathing stuttered; The danger behind the question sat heavy in the seat between them, almost begging her to reach into its iron jaw. Clover's fingers twitched towards the still-full glass that sat before her, but she stopped short as Alastor's gaze snapped towards the movement with a radio screech before his eyes returned to hers, holding her captive with their faint crimson glow. Something odd sat behind them, but it was almost impossible to tell what it was beneath the curtain of red he'd draped over it- It wasn't fear, that much she knew. Clover had no idea what Alastor was truly capable of; All she knew of who he was came from what sounded like nothing more than a grim bedtime story, a single paragraph from a greater tale that no one had ever bothered to read the rest of. After everything she'd been through in the last 48 hours, it felt so hard to fear him for doing nothing more but exist, and the longer she thought about it, the less she wanted to give in to the gossip. There was nothing to lose now, right? She had no true vices to pray on, nothing to give, nothing to take- Clover wasn't able to fear him, because she didn't know him yet, and she'd known so many people before that had truly torn her apart that it was becoming easier to tell when a person's intentions turned sour.

Nothing about him, aside from the persona he put on and the gossip that was perpetuated around him, made her afraid; In fact, he'd already figured out her feelings towards him, all she had to do was speak the sentiment into truth.

"No, not yet. I'm just- Curious."

Clover gave him a small smile and hopped down from the barstool, her feet meeting the floor with a soft squeak of fresh rubber; Alastor stood on what seemed to be just pure politeness when she wobbled slightly, his shoulders tense as he waited until she'd regained her balance. Picking up the neglected shot, Clover downed the glass to still her rapidly beating heart and set the glass rim down on the counter before regarding Husker with a short nod. He returned her gesture with a short laugh and a darting glance between her and the bar's other patron, and Clover's chin tilted proudly back to look up Alastor standing beside her. Where exactly this confidence in death came from, she didn't know- It was entirely possible it was fueled by alcohol or just a manic expression of her way of dealing with the knowledge of her situation, but either way she felt comfortable in riding out this high as long as she could. A short salute with two fingers was sent in Alastor's direction as she walked backward towards the shadowed staircase, leaving him with a final, well-meaning flirt.

"Goodnight."