The next morning, Clover drug herself out of bed to the tune of the DVD's selection screen that she allowed to loop as she readied herself for work. The brush of her hair curling against her cheeks was too much for her still fragile nerves, so she pinned back the front of her hair and made peace with it, splashing cold water on her cheeks to help soothe her skin. One of her new t-shirts and a pair of jeans was good enough for today's shift, and her new sneakers did their best to not wake Husk as she crept past. A breakfast of jam and toast was quickly devoured while she gathered herself to return to the scene of the latest crime against polite society. Her stomach sank as soon as she'd walked out the door, the warm distraction of the hotel gone as she retraced the path to the café, its empty streets seeming so much lonelier without the accompaniment of Alastor; She was anxious to get back to work and distract herself from the thoughts last nights mess had left behind, her gaze lingering on the curbsides she stepped down unassisted and missing the sound of a second set of shoes clicking against the concrete.

As she drew closer to the downtown area the café was located in, the streets grew uncharacteristically crowded for this time of day; Bodies pushed past her, nearly sending her stumbling into the road as demons rushed towards the gathering crowd in the distance. Due to her distracted shuffling as she made her way into the chaos, and quite possibly her rubbernecking to try and see what was ahead, Clover ran face-first into something very solid . The other demon spun around almost instantly, scaled hands grappling to keep her upright with an annoyed hiss until she'd steadied herself enough to look her obstacle in the eye.

"Hi, Cyrus."

Her boss stumbled back, quickly removing his hands from her and shoving them into his pockets as he put amble distance between them; Cyrus looked tired, his normal pressed white button-up ruffled underneath a leather duster and his hair sticking out in odd directions atop his head. He waved the puff of smoke she'd knocked out of him away and took the cigarette from between his teeth.

"Oh- Uh, I was-s-s, uh, comin' to get ya'. I'm gonna clos-s-se up s-s-shop for today. There was-" Cyrus's words hissed together, his lisp becoming more apparent with every sound and clashing with the tiniest twang as he rambled on. "An incident around the corner, it's-s-s got the entire neighborhood riled up. After las-s-st night- Well, I don't really wanna make you work through that kinda' thing again."

There goes my fucking day- Clover cursed to herself, her heart sinking at the prospect of having to spend her day fighting off the ghosts of yesterday without the distractions that came from dealing with droves of under caffeinated demons; Clover worked through her problems better while busy than when alone, the rhythm of the mundane allowing her to properly sort through her thoughts while leaving no room to linger on the negatives. Back at the hotel, it would be up to her own will to keep herself busy; Angel Dust didn't rise until the afternoon, Husk slept through many of the midday hours, Vaggie and Charlie often did 'hotel business' until dinner time on the days they'd not planned an exercise in redemption, Niffty kept herself busy with the housework and pest control, and Alastor-

Well, Alastor was a wild card.

Working would have kept her from replaying the events of the day before until she'd driven herself insane, the metaphorical VHS tape of yesterday's memories stuck on a mental loop that relentlessly rewound before it got to the good part; She'd overanalyze every word spoken, every passing glance, everything - Between reliving the small terror of being accosted by another demon to her odd conversation and growing infatuation with Alastor, it was best for everyone involved that she wasn't allowed to dwell. Now that she'd been robbed of that option, Clover would instead have to silently suffer with this for the rest of the day and into the foreseeable future. Something about the situation didn't sit right with her, this wasn't a good enough excuse for her to have to deal with her tortuous state of existence for the rest of the day; Clover made a decision.

"I wanna go see."

"What? Kid, it's pretty grues-s-s," Cyrus huffed, tucking his tongue back from where it had gotten stuck between his teeth before trying again. "It's awful stuff, is what I mean."

"So? I've seen plenty of horror shows, besides- I walk around there every day, how bad could it be?"

"For one, it's fucking Hell, and s-s-second of all-"

"Fine, stay here then."

Clover didn't give Cyrus a chance to argue with her before she was pushing past him and heading in the direction of the cluster of demons collecting down the street. With a crowd like this, whatever had happened had to be something of a slightly larger scale than a fender bender- Nothing interested people more than a disaster, and Hell was no exception to the rule.

For the first time, Clover found reason to be thankful for her smaller stature, for it allowed her to more easily maneuver her way toward the front of the crowd by tucking under the elbows of taller demons and weaving between extra-long legs; What she found when she reached the front was far worse than anything she'd expected.

It was absolute carnage.

Blood soaked into the brick walls, deepening their red to a sharp scarlet that dripped to the pavement; It spattered across the storefront windows in intricate, arching patterns that only came with the swing of a knife. Clover chuckled at her inner investigative monologue- Maybe her deep dives into the world of true crime had affected her more than she'd anticipated- but that didn't stop her from looking further at the scene. There was very little substance left of the poor soul, its viscera scattered in clumps around the only part left intact; The canine head of the victim, its fur matted with blood, tongue torn from its maw, and the eyes covered by a red…

A red bandana.

Oh.

Clover's heart stopped in her chest, her breath leaving her in a rattling wheeze that had her swaying on her feet. Even in its mangled state, she recognized the victim whose head lay at her feet, his red bandana tied ceremoniously around unseeing eyes; It was the hyena demon that had dared to lay hands on her the day before, or what was left of him, that was strewn across the sidewalk. The blood that had once run hot beneath hands that she could still feel on her skin now stained the white toes of her sneakers, and Clover resisted the urge to grind the gore beneath her heel.

Despite the sweet satisfaction she took from knowing such a soul had been snuffed out, Clover could feel herself becoming queasy. One last look at the scene gave her no further indication of what, or who, had happened to the creature; The patterns of the splatter were almost theatrical, precise, as if the artist had meant to make a spectacle of it all, and with so little left of the departed, it was almost impossible to tell the truth of his demise- Aside from the obvious decapitation, and it's oddly symbolic staging. Clover saw no footsteps leading away from the scene as she ducked back into the crowd, and eavesdropping on the other onlookers proved pointless.

Cyrus was waiting for her on the other side, anxiously pacing a few feet back from the crowd and smoking like a chimney. He visibly relaxed as she reappeared, his shoulders sinking with a long inhale- He waited until she rejoined him so he could blow it directly into her face with a sarcastic hiss.

"Are you s-s-satisfied?"

"Yeah, I am- It would have bugged me all day if I didn't know."

"You're a weird gal, Clover, but whatever you s-s-say."

"I prefer 'peculiar woman', thanks."

"Fine, you're-" Clover almost snorted at the confused slow blink he gave her, Cyrus's brow furrowing as he took another long hit of his cigarette and blew the smoke out of his nose. "That. Before I forget, s-s-since you walked all the way here, I might as well give you this-s-s."

A white envelope was shoved unceremoniously into her hands, and Clover flipped it open before he could stop her; Inside was far, far more money than she could have possibly earned in the short time she'd been working.

"What the fuck, Cyrus?"

"Why are you so fuckin' loud?" Cyrus hissed, his hands quickly covering hers and folding the fat envelope shut before shoving her hands toward her pocket. "Can't you just take your paycheck like anyone else?"

"Not when I've barely worked two weeks and this is easily enough to buy a fucking condo in whatever Hell's version of Miami is."

"Maybe I jus-s-st pay really well."

"...I swear to god if you've somehow involved me with some hell-legal bullshi-"

"Fuck! Just- Lis-s-sten, I have more time for my more, uh-" He grinned, watching as the ashes from his cigarette scattered at their feet before tossing the butt to the street. "Lucrative side busines-s-s since you've been helpin'."

"Just tell me it's drugs and not something I'm going to want to smack you for."

"You have no faith in me."

"Cyrus."

Cyrus sighed, running a hand through thick sandy hair before shoving his hands back into his pockets.

"It's weed, okay? I used to do opium but the market got stale- I roll it straight too, none of that laced shit. A man's gotta have his pride."

"Of fucking course you do-" Clover laughed, shaking her head at her incredible ability to insert herself into situations such as these.

Cyrus lit up another cigarette, the idle chatter of the rubberneckers behind her dulling to soft background static as she thought; It wasn't as if she cared if Cyrus was a dealer, she'd partaken enough to not pass judgment on that, but who knew how competitive the market for that kind of thing could get down here. Though, if she was really good, perhaps she could talk him into transferring over some of her tips, if only so she could test the product- Ah, fuck it.

"You promise I'm not involved in this?"

"No, and you never will be. You workin' for me is just a barista gig, I s-s-swear."

"And you're paying me more because…"

"Cause I wouldn't be able to do it without you."

She knew stubborn when she saw it, and lately, she was far more familiar with it than she ever had been before. There was no other choice but to cave, so Clover folded the envelope and slipped it into her bag. Cyrus grinned, seeming satisfied with her compliance, the smile faltering slightly as he looked back at the slowly thinning crowd, and he left her with a sharply hissed set of parting words.

"Go home."

Now alone on the street, Clover stood frozen by indecision; Doing as Cyrus said was an option, but to what end? To spend the day mulling about the internet, dulling her mind with its endless amounts of advertisements and glaring blue light even her thickly tinted glasses couldn't protect from? Sure, there were other options, but none of them called to her- None but perhaps familiarizing herself with the hotel's kitchen. Clover hadn't properly cooked since she'd arrived, mostly relying on the hotel's hospitality and thieving pastries from the café, but that in itself posed another problem; She would either have to hope that the hotel's pantry would provide, or she'd need to go shopping herself.

What was a girl with time to kill to do?

She did what she always did at a time like this; Clover started walking.

Avoiding the crowd was easier the closer she got to the Cannibal Colony, Clover pausing as she passed the dark windows of the coffee shop to take in her appearance before heading further towards the busier part of town. As she stopped at the curb to wait for the flickering crosswalk, she noticed the bloody footprints she was leaving behind her; A perfect imprint of her shoes trailed from where she had stepped in a stray splatter of gore, following her to where she now stood. Clover couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous her death had become, grinding her feet into the ground beneath her to rid herself of the breadcrumb trail she would leave behind.

A third print caught her eye, the dark color of dried blood standing out against the concrete beside the fresh red of her footprint. It took her a moment to decipher it, tilting her head this way and that until the urban Rorschach test took shape.

Beside the diamond pattern of her tennis shoes soles, was the imprint of a deer hoof.