The two of them had taken over the far corner of the empty ballroom off the main hallway, wheeling out the old gramophone they'd found hidden away in a closet and blowing the dust from its horn. They'd talked idly about what Clover might expect as they ate, but soon enough Angel had grown bored with his food and had moved on to shifting through the collection of records they'd brought down from the library while she finished the last bits of rice stuck to the bottom of the classic white Chinese take-out boxes that they'd scattered across the floor.

"Alright, when was the last time ya' slow danced?"

"Uh-" Clover hesitated, her brow furrowing as she thought back through years of miserable school dances before she found the melancholy answer to his question. "Probably with my dad, when I was like ten."

Angel snorted, placing the record on the player and setting the needle carefully into the grooves before turning to her with a soft smile.

"That's real cute, toots, but that's not what I meant- Haven't ya' ever danced with a fella' before?"

"I didn't exactly date princes in life, at least not ones that stayed princes for long."

The needle scratched, the sound lifting Clover's head from where she'd been mumbling into her takeout container as her ears strained away from the sound.

"You wanna' talk about it?" Angel said with a scowl. "I mean, you kinda' already mentioned it but, I got a lot of experience with jerks."

"No, it's okay."

Clover went to climb to her feet as Angel returned the needle to the record, but he held out a hand to stop her before she got too far.

"Not so fast! Put on ya' shoes first, you've gotta get used to 'em, or else this is all gonna' big a waste of fuckin' time."

She sighed, letting herself fall back against the floor as her nerves began to flare; As thankful as she was for Angel's help, the idea of doing something that would undoubtedly make her look stupid was taking its toll on her emotional battery. The tiny tantrum was short-lived, Clover letting the cold floor fight against the heat of her brewing embarrassment before she shoved herself upright and got to work. Her feet were soon adorned with a simple t-strap heel, black against the pale ivory of her ankles and just high enough to make her nervous. She stood slowly, taking the hand offered by Angel Dust as she steadied herself; It had been years since she'd walked in anything other than the short platforms of her boots, so even the short square heel they'd chosen was bound to give her trouble. Clover took a moment to pace the hardwood floor so she could get used to them, before turning to Angel with as much confidence as she could manage.

"Alright, how do we do this?"

"Well, first of all, breathe," Angel said, stifling a laugh. "I don't think you've taken a breath since you stood up- Two, you're gonna have to let the Jon lead, alright? Ya can't be doin' any of that stubborn shit."

"I am not stu-" The sharp quirk of his brow stopped the argument in its tracks, and Clover gave in with a heavy sigh. "Okay, fine , I'll let you lead."

"Good, cause Alastor probably isn't gonna even give ya' the chance- He's probably real good at this kinda stuff, you've got nothin' to worry about! Now, I know ya' don't slow dance, but do ya' really not dance at all ? Sometimes I can't tell if you're just bein' harsh or tellin' the truth."

"I did classes as a kid, but besides that? I went to school dances, and parties in college- But that was mostly just the 'jump around, do the same few moves over and over, get inappropriately close to people' kind of stuff."

Angel's face lit up, and it was almost enough to kill her nerves.

"Now we're gettin' somewhere! I know it doesn't mean much to ya', but that's pretty much how most people saw the dancin' that got popular in the old days- My, uh, dad still complained about it, even when I was all grown up! Ya' know how parents are."

"My grandmother loved Elvis, we used to watch tapes growing up- My great-grandparents still complained about it, and don't get them started on Disco or Rock n' Roll."

"Sound's about right, what time they from?"

"My grandparents were in their early twenties in the 60s- I think- there's still photos of my grandmother with a beehive in our house som-" Clover stopped with a sigh, ignoring the painful twist in her chest. "There was at least, I'm not sure now. All I know for sure is that my mom was born in 1970."

"N' what about you?"

"1995."

Angel blinked, his fingers tapping against his leg as he furrowed his brow in thought-

" Fuck, I'm fuckin' old," The comment made Clover snort, which earned her a sharp scowl from Angel before he returned to the point. "Anyways, you said you did classes- Were you like, a ballerina or somethin'?"

"I only did it until I was like, 9, but yeah- Ballet, jazz, tap, I did them all."

"Some'a that Broadway shit might help if ya' muscle memory is any good- Now c'mere, I don't bite unless you pay me."

Angel took her hand, placing it as close to his shoulder as her smaller stature would allow; Clover's free hand hovered between them, not sure which set of hands he expected her to take until one of them disappeared with a soft "pop" , leaving her with less to deal with- The confused look she sent Angel was answered with a quick shrug before he took her hand in his, and set the other on her waist. The music was soft behind them as he spoke, his voice echoing off the high walls.

"We're only gonna worry about the basics- The big ones are the Foxtrot and the Waltz, and if you know those two, you're probably gonna be able to catch on to whatever else Al might throw ya' way. That way all you're gonna have to worry about tomorrow night is keepin' up with him. Ready?"

Clover sighed, looking down at their feet with an anxious chew of her lip.

"As I'll ever be."

Once she'd gotten the basic steps of a couple dances down, they'd moved on to the more challenging, reckless movement that she expected to be faced with the following evening, just so she wouldn't be 'too surprised when she starts gettin' thrown around', as Angel had so aptly explained. It wasn't in Clover's nature to so freely put herself in someone else's hands, whether or not that was learned behavior or not wasn't a question she felt ready to answer- All she cared about was avoiding looking ridiculous in front of strangers, or worse, Alastor. Despite these hang-ups, Clover had begun to enjoy her time with Angel; Every triumph she had over her own two feet was celebrated and soon enough they'd grown so comfortable that he'd shifted their ballroom steps into the swing that would have been popular during the overlap of his own life with Alastor's, twirling Clover around the room and cackling when she clung to him every time her feet left the floor.

By the time they'd finished, the hotel's halls had gone dark and the rest of the residents were long tucked in bed, but they were both too wired to retire. They'd returned back to the privacy of her room with the leftover Chinese food and shopping bags from earlier in the day, their music shifting from rolling records to the modern dance hits of Angel's performance playlist. Clover climbed into bed after changing into her pajamas, her feet sore but with fewer blisters than she'd expected despite effectively breaking in a new pair of shoes- Angel laughed at the pillow she'd placed over her face when he'd suddenly begun to undress so he could try on some of the outfits he'd bought, but had moved to change in her bathroom afterward. The outfit he was currently wearing while twirling in front of the old mirror she'd affixed to the back of her closet door was a cute but barely-there ensemble with ruffles and ribbons, dark blue against the white of his fur. As Clover lazily watched from her place stretched across her bed, she found herself asking questions she wasn't sure she wanted the answers to; But it was better than assuming, she supposed.

"Hey Angel? This outfit is for a performance, right?"

"Yeah, what about it?" He replied, not looking away from his reflection as he twisted to make sure it didn't shift.

"Do you like it, like, really like it? I know you work in the sex industry but- There's a lot of things that go with that."

Angel took his time changing back into the large t-shirt and shorts he'd grabbed from his room, Clover averting her eyes until she felt the weight of him shifting the bed beneath her. He plucked the last of the cold eggrolls from their bag, shoving more than half of it into his mouth and chewing before he answered, mouth half full.

"Which part? The dancin', the actin', or the fuckin'?"

"The dancing, but also all of it, if you're comfortable talking about it."

"Look-" Angel sighed, sinking back down onto his elbows to lay beside her. "It's complicated, alright? I like the dancin', but I don't get to do it as much as I'd like to- My boss thinks I'm betta' off in the studio than on stage."

"Boss? So like, a director- Or club owner, or..."

"How much do ya' know about contracts?"

"Like, in legal terms, or like, spooky soul signing terms?"

The look Angel gave her told her everything; It was both.

"All I know is what Vaggie has said about Alastor, so not much. Just a lot of ' don't trust him he's a deal maker'- I think I accidentally walked into one with him, it was a lot of green glowing and theatrics, but I don't know if it did anything. I didn't sign a contract, that's for sure."

"I'm no expert, but deals and contracts are a little different from what I've heard. Contracts are completely bindin', with signin' ya' real name and all that stuff- That's what my dumb ass did, anyway. Basically, I signed up to do whateva' my boss tells me to as long as it's for the business- And I do mean whateva'. "

"And what do you get?"

"Nothin' that makes dealin' with him worth it."

"I take it he's not a knight in shining armor."

"That doesn't even begin to cover it- I hope ya' never meet him, and ya' won't if I can help it, but just know that if you eva' hear the name 'Valentino' , you fuckin' run the other way."

"Don't worry about it, I don't really plan on making any more friends. Alastor is the only wild card I can handle."

"King of hearts, huh?"

Clover laughed as he waggled his brow at her, rolling onto her stomach and stretching her legs off the side of the bed. She couldn't help the yawn that sent her arms stretching into Angel's personal space, the both of them laughing when he grabbed one of her hands and comically set it against the fluff that adorned his chest. They lay like that for a few minutes, simply enjoying the other's company before patting the back of her hand and standing up to gather his things. He placed the pink bag from their first stop on her bed with a wink, its contents clunking together as it sunk into her bed, before reaching out to ruffle her hair. Angel snickered as she swiped at his hand, turning on his heel to talk over his shoulder as he made his way towards her door.

"I think it's bedtime for you bunny- You've got a long night ahead of ya', n' so do I, so we both betta' get some sleep."

"You're probably right. Goodnight, and thank you, Anthony, I really appreciate-" As soon as she'd realized her mistake, Clover paused, blinking into the space between them as she racked her brain for any reason why she'd say such a thing. "I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from. I don't even know an Anthony, I must be exhausted…"

"Who told you that?"

The harsh edge to Angel's tone startled her, Clover looked to where he'd stopped dead in her doorway to find his once cheerful expression now changed to a mask of confused discomfort.

"Nobody, it was just a mist-"

"Don't give me that bullshit- Who told you? Was it Alastor? How the fuck did he find out?"

"No, Angel I-

"Then who ? Cause the only fuckin' person who knows my name is the same bastard who owns my soul- And I swear on everythin' that if he's somehow got you workin' with-"

"Angel! Can you listen for two seconds instead of yelling at me, please!"

Clover's shouting seemed to snap Angel out of whatever panic he'd settled into, all eight eyes blinking back at her as she rushed to close the open door so they wouldn't wake anyone. A cold sweat broke out across her chest as Clover's mind began to race- Her heart ached as he flinched away from her as she came closer, but she was far too tired to split her attention to offer him comfort as she scrambled to figure out why and how she'd known to call him what was obviously his real name.

Then her eye caught the camera tucked into her bookcase, and as ridiculous as it was, it was the only thing that made sense.

"I'm taking it that Anthony is your real name."

"Yeah'," Angel's voice still had that sharp edge, but Clover couldn't blame him; Not when he winced at the sound of his own name and when she could see how his hands had begun to shake. "And I'm gonna' need you to tell me right now how the fuck you know it."

"...The truth is that I don't know. It wasn't even a conscious mistake to call you it, I just did. I would have never known it was your name if you'd not told me- But, there is something else I need to tell you," Slowly, Clover opened her bedside drawer, not wanting to frighten Angel any further. The photograph she'd taken of him was retrieved from its hiding spot and pressed to her chest as she walked to the edge of her bed, taking the time in between to choose her words more carefully moving forward. "You remember when Alastor dragged you into his room to take pictures, right?"

"How could I forget, the bastard dragged me outta' bed for it."

"He had a reason to- Maybe not a good reason, but a reason," Clover sighed, pressing her palm over the polaroid as she dared to move closer. "Earlier in the week, I'd bought a camera, and I'd been playing around with it. I took a photo of Charlie, and it was normal- But when I talked Alastor into letting me take a photo of him, it... Wasn't. So, he decided to do an experiment; He had you take a photo of us, to see what the variable was... It was me."

"What the fuck are ya' talking about?"

"The photo you took was normal, just two demons posing for a picture, but the picture of you- Well,"

Clover held out the Polaroid to him face down, but her plan to break the news gently was foiled as he quickly flipped it over; Angel's eyes grew wide as he looked at the photograph, the harshness clenching of his jaw falling slack with a heavy sigh that sank his shoulders. He shuffled past her, falling back onto her bed so suddenly that it knocked the bag he'd left atop it over, but Clover didn't dare move until he was ready for her. Angel held the photo in front of him for a long time, cradling it between his hands with a small smile before he shook himself out of his nostalgic trance, turning the photo over just as Alastor had. His voice shook with frustrated confusion as he looked up to her.

"How did ya' do this?"

"I don't know. I just- Do." Clover sat beside him, being careful not to jostle him in this tender state. "Only you and Alastor know- I told him right away, but I didn't know how you would react, and I swear I didn't know anything more than this until a minute ago."

"Wait- You have a photo of Al? How the fuck did you manage that? From what I've heard, even the sneakiest of demons can't catch a candid of him that isn't seven shades of fucked up."

"I just- Convinced him? The technology in my camera isn't digital, it's the same principles as older cameras, so he didn't mind it as much."

Angel snorted, and then sniffled, pinching at the bridge of his nose as he shook his head.

"No fuckin' wonder he likes you."

"He does not- This is beside the point," She could feel the angry flush that their argument had left on her skin begin to blister under the new heat of her embarrassment. "I told Alastor immediately once it had developed, and then he involved you- I shouldn't have let him do that, I'm so sorry Ang-"

"Can I see?"

The unease that had decorated her friend's face shifted into devious joy as Angel leaned into her with new interest- Clover didn't have to think very long on her answer, even if it instantly solidified her biases in his eyes.

"No, I can't do that to him."

"Wow, you really are soft for da' guy, huh?"

Clover had to look away, unable to stand that knowing tilt to Angel's smile. Her eyes landed on the book on her bedside table and all the secrets she'd hidden in its pages, and for a short moment she debated sharing them- But she couldn't not yet, so instead she fell back onto her bed with a defeated sight, and desperately tried to keep them on topic.

"Do you believe me about the name thing?"

The silence he made her endure could have killed her again if he'd let it go on a second longer, and part of her wondered if he'd done it on purpose.

"...Yeah, I do," Angel finally said. "But whatevuh' this thing you're developin' is, it's some real spooky shit- It's no wonder Mr. Creepy seemed so entertained by the whole thing."

"He seems pretty pleased with himself most of the time."

"Just tell me one thing-" Angel stood and stretched, his voice straining through the movements before he turned to her with a teasing grin. "He's a handsome bastard, isn't he?"

It was too late to stop her smile, Clover covering her face with her hands before mumbling through them.

"As much in life as he is in death."

"I fuckin' knew it!"

They giggled through their goodnights, Angel squeezing the hand she reached out to him in lieu of a hug before he nudged the bag sitting on the bed next to her with a wink; He'd barely dodged the pillow she'd tossed at him as he darted out the door, blowing her a kiss before it closed behind him. Clover kicked back her covers, setting the offending bag beside her bed for discovery at a later date as the inevitable crash after the day's excitement finally caught up to her.

Under the cozy cocoon of her blankets, Clover found an appropriate white noise to battle her anxious anticipation of tomorrow night, the soft sounds of radio and rain lulling her into a well-deserved, dreamless sleep.