The floor seemed more like a mansion than a hotel, its winding hallways leading to sitting rooms, studies, the kitchen, and dining areas, Clover started her expedition on the second floor. Most of the rooms had been refurbished into bedrooms, which was expected, but further investigations and some sneaking through the few unlocked doorways led her to find more interesting prospects; A couple of grand but empty bedrooms, a sitting room, an office with a roll top desk, and least but most certainly not least- A library. The room's structure was an enigma, the space somehow feeling both massive and intensely cozy; The top of its high ceilings were obscured by shadows, the dangling bottom of a chandelier catching the lights as she drew open crimson curtains and coughed at the dust she disturbed. Intricate swirls curled into the crown molding, twisting into that watchful gaze she'd slowly begun to grow accustomed to and giving home to a brothel of spider webs that glistened in the soft light. The room became much more suitable for those with only two legs as she blew dust from the gilded lamps and fiddled with their switches until they flickered on, their dim bulbs lighting her way through the maze of bookshelves that sprawled out into the shadows. Their shelves were packed with lines of novels, biographies, anthologies, memoirs, and more that she couldn't quite reach without the help of the rolling ladders leaned against them. Clover found a promising collection of records, DVDs, cd's film reels, and old tapes in one of the room's darker corners, and she barely was able to restrain herself from sweeping the lot into her waiting arms; There was time for all of that later, Clover promised herself, today was a day for literary enlightenment. She made note of the location and collected a small stack of interesting reads before returning to the main sitting area to explore further.

Clover was amused by the leather-bound copy "Dante's Inferno" sitting on the table as she settled down into a plush armchair, kicking off her shoes so she could pull her feet underneath her and cracking open a controversial favorite that definitely had reason to be on the shelves of any library in Hell- She was just happy the cover wasn't the over-romanticized lollipop and heart sunglasses that had come to be connected to its namesake. She settled in, feeling herself begin to be lulled by the atmosphere, and had resigned herself to spending the afternoon reading the book to its completion-

Then the room was filled with the sound of radio static.

Her book tumbled to the floor as Clover jumped at the sudden sound, her hands covering her mouth to muffle her screech of surprise as she spun around in her seat; The radio sat on a nearby side table a rounded model with curling cherry wood details, it's inner light flickering as the radio's speakers spit vicious static before it began to hum more pleasantly as the tubing warmed up. It was a rare treat to see such an old model in action, Clover only ever seeing them in the background of black and white movies or sitting in charity shop windows. She leaned into the device, tilting her head to peer at the strangely sharp insets as she tried to remember more from her limited time learning about them in school, but her attention was quickly snatched by the teeth of the situation.

Very real teeth, she quickly learned.

"Salutations, sinners!"

Oh, fuck.

"Alastor?"

The question fell on an empty room, and Clover felt silly for calling out his name so casually, even if her surprise at the turn of events was entirely genuine. Sure, he was the "Radio Demon" and she'd been told that his power came from him "broadcasting his carnage across hell", but Pentagram City seemed to push the boundaries of technology at every turn; Televisions flickered inside apartment windows, sinners seemed utterly glued to their smartphones, cameras watched them all from every corner- Modern technology didn't just thrive, it infested. No one had ever mentioned that Alastor was still active on the airways, which in retrospect made all the sense in the world when everyone was dead set on telling her everything about him except who he truly was.

Which was even more irritating when Clover found his commitment to his aesthetics incredibly charming- Adorable, even.

"Now, I know you've all been busy staring at your flickering technicolor picture shows and causing chaos across the circles while I've been away, but there's something I would like to say- You are listening, aren't you?"

The radio's volume rose all on its own, heavy static washing over the charismatic tone of their host before it cleared again.

"Good. Now, I know that our dear city may seem to many of you like the garden of earthly delights- Eternal torment does have its upsides, doesn't it? But! There are some things even we should not abide by, not even as the vagrants we are."

Distortion warbled the words, turning the notes in the background music sour; Clover found herself clinging to the edge of her seat, and hanging from his every word.

"So! I would suggest that many of you harlots and heathens of the consequences before preying on those of fairer means. You wouldn't want to run into any trouble, like my dear friend here," Clover winced, the drag of shoes across the floor and the thud of something heavy echoing through the speaker as feedback squealed. From behind the cheerful voice of Alastor came muffled cries that turned to screams with a wet squelch. "Who fumbled greatly tonight, sinking into the depths of incivility while in the presence of a charming young woman and, unfortunately for him, my good self."

That aching curiosity curled into her chest as Alastor punctuated his point with a sick ripping sound that he let hang over them all as static rose and fell, washing over the frequency before it was cut through with a wet "thunk!" as his victim fell silent. Despite the sickness that swirled into her stomach, she couldn't help but want more; More answers, more of Alastor's captivating charisma, more- Something, to feed the starving beast that was her mind. What had this man done to deserve such a public display of brutality? Clover already had a hunch, but what she wanted was answers. Who was the woman Alastor spoke of, and why were they together? That question opened a larger can of worms that Clover didn't dare to touch at a time like this, less she let her lines of intrigue meet at a dangerous intersection. This was all a little macabre, even for Clover's goth sensibilities, but she couldn't stop listening; She wasn't even sure she could turn the radio off if she tried.

"Perhaps next time, you'll know to keep your claws to yourself! We wouldn't want to ruin a new pair! A lesson well learned, I should hope. After all this effort on my part, it would be a shame if we had to do this all again!"

A roaring laugh track felt hollow, too soft to truly land; Perhaps that was entirely on purpose since it barely covered the sick crunch of bone and splatter of blood that followed. It was hard for Clover to picture Alastor actually doing something like this; His uncanny ability to seem both harmless and utterly threatening aside, he always seemed so proper, so clean and charismatic, so thinking of him getting his hands dirty was a horse of a different color entirely-

She supposed the red suit made more sense now.

"I suppose, listeners, you are wondering whether we shall see this lucky bastard on our filthy streets again. Sadly, we will. Some meat is just too rotten for consumption, you see, and some of us have standards!"

And so did the teeth.

Clover couldn't quite place her feelings; She felt transfixed by his voice, captivated by the incredibly warped morality play that was taking place live on air, but somewhere beneath all of that, was the disgust she felt in herself; This alone should have turned her away from her misguided interest in the Radio Demon, should have terrified her to her very core- And yet, she's never been more curious. Looking down at the red knit of her sleeves, Clover wondered if Hell had already taken its toll on her, or if perhaps this was the person she'd always been. Her attention was drawn back towards the radio as a humorously peppy jazz filled the room over the sounds of slaughter, deafening her as her thoughts grew more unruly.

"How the fuck can you listen tuh' this shit?"

Her squeak at the sudden exclamation was, thankfully, ignored as Angel Dust slipped through the open door; He looked incredulously at the radio as he walked past it, opting to toss himself onto the couch sitting across from her.

"I don't think I have a choice," Clover said as she pulled the tiny points of her nails from her chair cushions, her teeth aching at the feeling. "It turned on by itself."

"Huh- Guess I neva' was around these old t'ings when he got goin'. I think he must have used tuh' do them a lot more."

Angel Dust sank further into the couch with a quiet huff, and after a moment of listening to the gruesome sounds from the radio, Clover decided that maybe it was better to distract them both from it.

"So, is his whole thing just an aesthetic, or is he a product of his time? He wouldn't tell me."

"Oh, Al? I think he plays up the who t'ing but he's certified vintage toots, he's like, ya' grandfather's grandfather kind of old," Angel Dust perked up, a wide smile breaking across his face as he waggled their eyebrows flirtatiously. "What, ya into that kind of t'ing?"

"You mean older guys? Husk already made that joke, try again," Clover snorted. " Besides, Alastor doesn't look any older any older than what would be appropriate."

"Too bad he ain't into being inappropriate, so you can give up on that dream right now sweetheart, before ya' get your heart broken."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Look-" His elbows made their way under him as he propped himself up on one set of arms to better look at her, his expression almost too serious for the current conversation. "When a guy gets offered gettin' off and he refuses, ya know they're of a different breed."

Clover couldn't help but laugh, even as the idea permeated in the back of her mind.

"Maybe he just wasn't into it."

"Honey, look at me. Everyone wants a piece of this."

Her amusement with the spider was becoming permanent, Angel Dust sweeping a second set of hands over his person with a pointed tilt of his head, and Clover found herself looking at him more closely; While this conversation was far different than the last one she'd had with the hotel's residents, she was equally eager to play along.

"You're very visually pleasing- " Clover said with a small smile. "And I'm a sucker for an accent, so I guess I see your point."

"Thanks, toots, but I don't swing your way."

"I swing both ways with a door that's got a key, so don't worry about it."

"Huh?"

Angel Dust's confused expression sent her into a fit of giggles, Clover waving off her comment as a new curiosity crept into her mind, and in the spirit of good conversation, she decided to explore it.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Bang," Clover waited until Angel Dust had finished chuckling at her dry joke to continue. "Anyway, what do you...Do, exactly?"

"You mean like, for work? I'm a porn star, but I do a little of everythin' on the side-Dancin', workin' corners, whatever my boss wants me to do. That a problem for you or somethin'?"

"I don't think anyone has room to judge, not when we're all down here," Clover mused while trying her hardest not to visualize her new acquaintance's extracurricular activities. "Do you like it?"

The brightness in Angel's eyes faded at the question for just a moment, but a moment long enough for her to notice; Before Clover could question it his smile snapped back into place as he sat forward, planting two hands on the couch between his legs, his other set of arms pressing the fluff the poofed out from the lapels of his jacket together with a shimmy.

"Are you kiddin' me? With a body like this, I got them eatin' out of the palm of my hand!"

The high-pitched squeak came from somewhere when Angel Dust groped his chest was another mystery altogether, one to be solved later; He hadn't answered her question at all, and that sickness that had begun to brew in the pit of her stomach simmered as she looked at his carefully crafted caricature of cheerfulness.

"Now, I gotta' question for ya'," Angel suddenly said, throwing himself back onto the couch and kicking up his feet on the table. He took the short quirk of her brow as a response and continued. "The fuck did you do to end up stuck here with me?"

Clover sighed, shifting in her seat until her back was towards the still-squealing radio and studying Angel Dust for a long time before daring to reply; He sat as patiently as he could, his feet rocking back and forth as he distracted himself with his phone.

"I don't know why I keep expecting people to not ask that question," Clover said, dropping her head back into the armrest.

"Ya' don't have to answer, but you are stayin' in a hotel that's supposed to redeem us sinners- Copin' with all the bad stuff is kinda part of the bargain," Angel Dust seemed to scramble to correct the somber mood he'd cast over her, the playful attitude he'd taken on crumbling with a soft crack of his voice. "Ya' just seem like a nice gal, I was just wonderin'! My first guess is you killed a boyfriend of sumthin', crime of passion kind of stuff."

"I wish."

It was quiet for a long moment as Clover decided whether or not she was going to trust this boy, whether she was going to reach out for this friendship to help her with her time here, or whether she was going to keep it all bottled up out of fear that it made her appear weaker. The idle noises from the radio inched their way back into her consciousness, an echoing statement from their charismatic host looping over and over until its message was burned into her psyche forever more.

"I would suggest that many of you harlots and heathens think of the consequences before preying on those of fairer means,"

"Of fairer means" was a painfully poignant turn of phrase, she thought, especially now that the higher powers had decided to rip away what little armor she'd had in her humanity. Was this who she truly was? A frightened animal, timid and soft in a world of predators; Painfully alone, in so many ways. Another look at Angel Dust only further stressed the analysis; Why a spider? They were mostly harmless creatures, usually lashing out when in danger and helping to keep nature in balance by preying on parasites- But perhaps she was taking this all too literally. Angel Dust was another mystery, and something about him told her it would be far easier to learn with a fair give and take with him; There was a sadness beneath his cheerful, cheeky personality that was painfully familiar.

"You can't tell anyone else," Clover finally said. "I don't want it to- I don't want people to use it against me."

"I'm in the business of keepin' secrets, I won't tell a soul, I swear!" He crossed his heart for good measure, leaning into her with interest as his hands met his cheeks with an adorable squish.

There was no use trying to sugarcoat it, she supposed, so Clover cut right to the chase.

"I threw myself off a building."

"Fuckin- Why?"

"I'd had the thought for a long time, for many reasons, and it finally came to a point where my life felt completely torn apart- I was miserable, nothing ever seemed to turn out the way it should, and then... Then the person I thought was going to finally break that viscous cycle told me that the last two years of my life had been a complete façade, and... And I snapped."

"Shit…"

Angel Dust's response did little to sooth the wound that had reopened in her admission, his eyes staring unseeingly at the table in front of him as he leaned onto his knees; When he finally spoke again, it was almost unsettling how sincere he sounded- It was almost like she was talking to a different person.

"...I overdosed. I'll spare you the sob story but- Being gay in my time wasn't like it is today, n' my family was... A fuckin' lot. I guess what I'm sayin' is, I get it. I was so drugged up half the time it was hard to feel anythin' like all that, but I was drugged up for a reason, ya know?"

Silent came over them again, the two just sitting in each other's company as they absorbed what the other had said; It wasn't uncomfortable, it was heavy, full of sorrow that she was sure so many people could relate to but seemed so hard to find in others.

"Men are fuckin' trash," Angel said with an empty laugh.

"Most of them, yeah."

With a soft fizzle of static, the sounds from the radio stopped as suddenly as they had started. Then, with all the bombastic personality she'd learned to expect from Alastor, that voice chimed in once again.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, tomorrow's weather!"

And with an unattractive snort, Clover laughed.