"Hey, hobo man! Hey, Dapper Dan! You've both got your style, but brother you're never fully dressed without a smile!"
The quick change in the noise of her room is what woke her, the subtle puttering of rain and soft melody shifting into the boisterous sound of a familiar song.
"Your clothes may be, Beau Brummelly, they stand out a mile! But brother, you're never fully dressed without a smile!"
Clover jolted at the sudden onslaught of sound that filled her bedroom, blinking into the darkness for a moment before she turned over to check her laptop. Her fingers fumbled as she turned down the audio, momentarily pausing it completely and bringing up a random menu before turning it down to a more tolerable level. The slightest glow of warm light streamed from around the thick black curtains that hung on her single window, banishing her worries that she'd either vastly overslept or barely gotten a night's rest as she shifted herself up higher on her pillows. Squinting at the computer screen, she reached for the glasses she had placed on top of the keyboard and glanced over the related videos of HellTube. If the algorithms of Hell's internet were anything like they were in the land of the living, there was a good chance that her most current cinema selections were to blame, but the sharp change still seemed odd to her. The other related videos didn't look to be anything even remotely related to her search history, aside from the few recordings of radio drama broadcasts, and instead were now scattered with various Voxtech commercials and musical selections. She left it alone as she rolled herself out of bed, shrugging her shoulders into a stretch that caused her to hum into the empty air.
The room was left dark she shrugged her red sweater over her bedhead, sneakers folded at the heel as she padded down to the kitchen to collect some semblance of a breakfast. A cup of coffee was quickly brewed in the French press she had tucked away in her assigned kitchen cabinet, and she made note of the early afternoon time that ticked on the clock as she waited for her pastry to warm.
Clover returned to her bedroom with a plate she would usually only offer herself in times of self-love; Warmed pastries, fruit, leftover balsamic tomatoes from Angel making them dinner a few nights prior, and small bowls of jam and butter balancing on her open palm as she nudged her door open with her hip. The coffee was left to cool on her bedside table, Clover idly munching on an orange slice while she waited for the shower to come to a pleasant boil before she stepped inside. The music changing in her room was a calming countermelody to her introspection as Clover pondered the logistics of her new form, thanking the fact that her skin was now more akin to the feel of velvet than the fur those like Angel Dust or Husk sported and that the need to shave no longer existed in the afterlife.
Wasn't hell supposed to be about eternal suffering?
Her hair was roughly towel dried, Clover utterly unsure of what to do with it; The lack of already having her outfit planned and in front of her was gnawing at her nerves, but she tried her best to put the trust in Alastor to have it all figured out. She left her hair to air dry the rest of the way, wrapping herself in a fluffy black robe and returning to her darkened bedroom. After having time to cool, her coffee was a pleasant temperature to drink, and Clover sipped slowly as she took her time turning on the dimmer lamps beside her bed.
The flick of the switch brought the bulb to life, and Clover froze- She could have sworn that she saw the shadows around her bed shrink back, the sinking darkness's retreat more animated, more alive, than normal. Just when she'd resigned herself to kneeling to peer underneath, she spied the neatly wrapped package sitting at the foot of her bed. Its pattern was a textured black, sealed with a red ribbon tied into a satisfying and symmetrical bow. How long it had been sitting on her bed in the darkness? Clover wondered. It couldn't have been there when she'd woken up- Or she supposed it could have , since her feet came nowhere close to where the box had been bumped up against the baseboard of the queen-sized bed.
Her coffee was set beside the novel on her bedside table as she pulled the box into her lap and turned it over in her hands. The small card tucked through the ribbon was signed in neat handwriting that read,
"For tonight"
The bow fell apart with a gentle tug, its red ribbons falling across her lap and allowing her to lift the lid.
"Holy shit."
Clover covered her mouth at the exclamation despite being alone, staring down at the box's contents; Inside was a folded fabric of the deepest red, covered in intricate beading with accents of lace that she couldn't help but run her fingers over. On top of it was a note, clearly written with a quill and in a different, fancier script than the message that had been outside the box.
"? ﾝﾓﾇ? ﾝﾓﾂ, ? ﾝﾓﾁ? ﾝﾓﾈ? ﾝﾑﾜ?￢ﾀﾝ
Lifting the fabric to look beneath, she found another note set on top of what she assumed was the corresponding undergarments, which read,
"? ﾝﾓﾇ? ﾝﾓﾂ, ? ﾝﾑﾜ? ﾝﾒﾾ?￢ﾀﾝ
It all came together so quickly Clover wasn't quite sure how she hadn't thought of it before- Of course , this is what Alastor had meant by having it "all taken care of", her measurements had already been taken by Rosie, so it would be all too easy for him to request something to be made for the event without her input. The true mystery was exactly how long in advance he'd had this planned; He acted as if the party's invitation had been suddenly sprung on him, but the convenience of it all added interest to the story- Then again, Clover had no idea what kind of sorcery or secrets were up Alastor's sleeve.
The cheeky notes inside the box were obviously written by Rosie, but the lack of a name on the outside of the package pointed to Alastor's particular flair; Clover shook her head at the dramatics, tucking all three notes into her bedside table before standing to remove the garment for better look.
The dress swung gracefully as she pulled it from its tissue paper, heavy with quality in her palms and falling just below the knee as Clover held it out in front of her. Its shape replicated the styles of the 1920s in truth, the dropped waist and pleated skirt creating the straight silhouette that she related to the decade while its beaded bodice reflected its decadence. Timidly she traced the lines of the dark lace overlay that hung against the deep red of the fabric beneath, marveling at how strong the stitching seemed despite being entirely invisible to the average eye- Clover tried her best not to think about how grossly expensive it must have been as she carefully hung it on the back of her bathroom door to admire while she unpacked the rest of her spoils. A length of pearls was tucked inside a small bag alongside a classic headband in matching colors and a pair of short gloves, with a set of gently folded silken black undergarments at the bottom of the box. Clover anxiously nibbled at the remainder of her breakfast, idly listening to the shift in music as songs came and went as she admired the dress that had somehow found itself in her possession;
Never in her life had she owned something so extravagant.
Once she'd found herself instead staring into the empty bottom of her coffee cup Clover decided to head downstairs to deposit her dishes and pour herself another cup, giving a short wave to Niffty and Charlie talking at the kitchen table before returning to her bedroom. Clover couldn't make herself do much else but lay around while she waited out the remaining hours, shifting between reading her book and scrolling through Hell's media to pass the time. When it felt like a reasonable hour to start getting ready, she rolled herself out of bed and planted herself in front of her bathroom mirror with a hazy image of herself for the evening in mind. Her shoulder-length hair gave her an easy enough option to match her dress in aesthetic, so she left it alone for now- Makeup was another story, for it would be all too easy for her to wander into clumsy Halloween costume party paint territory rather than the campy haute couture cosmetics she was hoping to achieve.
She kept her face simple, deciding to forego the heavy powdering in favor of the velvet of her skin and painting her cheeks with far less rouge than would have been in fashion but far more than she was accustomed to. Allowing the habits of her younger self to take over, she dusted her lids with a deep berry shade and lined her eyes with, hopefully, more finesse than she did at fourteen. The result of her hard work caused her eyes to look more melancholy and doe-eyed than they already did, round and bright against the darkness around them, an almost acceptable interpretation of the vintage trend. Clover quickly realized that leaving her hair to last was a mistake, having to rewet the ends so she could curl them toward her chin and fluff out her bangs to sit atop her glasses instead of falling into her eyes- Her helpless fussing was wasting too much time, and she was forced to give up on achieving perfection.
Hell's sun was setting, slowly narrowing her window with each shift of the light and casting long shadows across her room as she fiddled with the layers she had been given. It was a minor inconvenience to wiggle into them without another set of hands, but somehow she managed; The elastic paneling of the included corselet flattened the squish of her stomach and chest to better fit the silhouette, that black fabric decorated with dainty white ribbon that matched the lace of her chemise. Dark stockings pushed into the thickness of her thighs, causing her flesh to bulge over the top of them in a way that made her stomach churn. She could already feel them rolling down as she walked across the room to fetch her dress, and Clover decided that maybe allowing them to do as they wished was the best course of action- Besides, it would be period accurate to allow them to fall.
The dress slid effortlessly against the silk of the chemise, draping from her shoulders and brushing against her bare knees as she moved. Clover was almost calmed by the weight of it, allowing herself to twirl for a moment to appreciate the movement of it all; Insecurity began to flutter in her chest all over again when she caught a glimpse of skin, Clover twisting herself in front of the mirror to get a better look and blushing when she realized how much of her shoulders and spine the dress's low back revealed. She quickly moved on, glancing at her laptop's clock as the time until she was meant to meet up with Alastor ticked closer, and swallowing down the slight jump of nervousness as she moved on to the finishing touches.
It wasn't hard for her to find a lipstick in a shade of red that matched, painting it in sharp lines across her cupid's bow and pressing the pigment into her bottom lip so she could match the shape- As silly as it was, she was quite proud of herself for pulling it off. She fumbled with her accessories, debating leaving the headband behind when the logistics of wiggling it over her ears became too confusing, but she somehow managed to get it settled into the right place. Another glance at the clock as she slipped on her shoes quelled the anxiety bubbling in her stomach- It was still early, but not so much so that waiting downstairs would seem desperate. Clover was almost always early, for anything even close to on time felt late, so this was pretty in character for her; That's what she told herself, at least, instead of admitting that the idea of walking downstairs and having Alastor already waiting for her gave her fluttery feelings that she would rather avoid for as long as possible, in case they caused cold feet.
Leaving her room felt like walking into quicksand, dragging her feet against the carpet as she shuffled towards the staircase. The sounds of life from downstairs grew louder as she neared the end of the hallway; If the clinking of glassware was any indication, Husk was awake at the bar, and the hope of getting alcohol into her system before the events of the evening started pulled her toward the lobby at a steadier pace.
For the first time since she'd met him, Clover saw Alastor before she heard him.
Alastor stood near the bar, tapping long fingers against the counter while he watched Husk fix a drink behind the counter. The soft sounds of radio static interlaced with the rolling click of a finished record took the place of flickering radio stations, a curious change that had Clover's ears pressing forward to listen as she gripped the railing. Husk was the first to realize that the lobby had gained a third party, looking up from shaking whatever concoction he'd been making to find her timidly tip-toeing her way toward the staircase. One feathered eyebrow rose as she met his eye before his forehead furrowed, an annoyed sigh sinking his shoulders as he set down the metal shaker with a loud clunk that stopped her in her tracks.
"The fact that the both of yous' are early to this little date is probably the most irritating thing you've eva' done."
"Quiet, Husker."
The squeal of feedback that came from his radio almost overtook Alastor's nasal snarl, the sharpened points of radio dials softening back to the pleasantly bright-eyed Alastor she was used to as he turned his attention towards her.
Clover tried to bite back her smile, taking note of the constant tapping of fingers and annoyed flicking of his ears- She'd dare say that the Radio Demon was anxious if she was a drink or two braver. It took a moment for her to notice the change in his attire, too taken in by this new, oddly adorable air to him, but a moment longer locked in his gaze would have taken what little nerve she'd gathered for the evening and crushed it beneath his heel. Clover tore her eyes from his, dropping them to the sharp lines of his suit and finding herself equally taken in by his altered appearance.
It was almost strange to see him out of his tattered tails, Alastor's Radio Demon attire replaced by an unmarred but equally sharp suit for the occasion: He was still dressed in his trademark red, with a single strip of deeper crimson running down the length of black trousers, it's shade set to match the lining of his now-shorter tailcoat and silk bowtie. His coat hung open, though Clover couldn't quite decide if that decision had been made for style of comfort, to show the bright red of the vest and the scandalous diversion of fashion that was the black button-up he wore beneath. His vest was cut precisely to accentuate Alastor's lean form, tucking in at the waist and stopping just high enough to further lengthen his already long legs- And Clover wasn't sure how she'd ever be able to properly thank Rosie for what it did for his shoulders . The items that remained of his normal attire were his shining black shoes and the red-tipped gloves, the latter of which were currently clenched around his microphone, their fine leather twisting around its stand as she took a tentative step towards the staircase.
When their eyes met again, Clover nearly choked on her breath- Alastor's expression wasn't one that she'd ever seen him wear before, his normally tight smile falling slack around his teeth as his eyes flickered up and down her dress in a way that looked much like panic; Long claws slid into the collar of his shirt, pulling gently at the starched fabric. The radio started up with a loud click, suddenly filling the air with a frantic swing and causing both of their ears to twitch flat against the sound- Clover thought for a moment that it was meant to distract her from the dumbfounded look that had broken his façade of toxic positivity, leaving her wondering if the soft flush of color on otherwise muted skin wasn't just her imagination.
Alastor crossed the room and climbed the stairs almost too confidently, taking them two at a time until they met halfway. He held out an arm like the gentleman he was, bowing gallantly at the waist with a wide grin that softened when he noticed her hesitation, the lace of her gloves hiding the shake in her fingers as she was suddenly faced with the reality of what they were doing- This was happening , she was going out on Alastor's arm, and it sent a barrage of dopamine straight into her system that was doubled in dose as he softened his voice and said;
"You do not have to, of course, but I must offer."
Clover didn't hesitate then, feeling the familiar flutter in her chest as she laid her hand against his elbow and stepped down onto the step beside him. Already drunk on the chemicals that being around him provided, she could feel her rational thought fading as struggled for something to say- So, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head.
"That's a very nice suit."
Another dose, this time dealt by that teasing little tilt to his smile, and Clover could feel the buzzing anticipation building beneath her skin.
"Rosie insisted!" Alastor replied. "She'll take any excuse to make me a new outfit, no matter how happy I am with my wardrobe- Though I cannot argue with her craftsmanship."
A lie, Alastor was eating up her unashamed staring, eyes intently watching as the red stain of her lips rolled against each other before a wave of confidence rushed over her and she let it carry her wherever it would.
"I'll have to write her a thank you."
"That's very kind of you, I see that our shared acquaintance has entirely lived up to her expectations, and gone far beyond them at that!"
"Oh, that's right- I should probably write her one for making my outfit as well."
Alastor laughed openly at that, a short chuckle rather than the booming bark he often did for show, before he ducked down to speak against her ear.
"I do believe you're giving me a line, dear."
The lack of radio effect on his voice made her knees wobble, that transatlantic seeming so much more tantalizing without its endless echo; Clover gripped into his jacket and pretended that her heels were to blame for her sudden unsteadiness as their conversation continued.
"I blame the dress, so it's technically your fault."
"Is it now?"
Alastor's brow rose in intrigue at her mild-mannered flirt, and Clover had to keep herself from snorting; She never grew tired of their little games, truly.
"It's a good thing that Rosie just happened to have my measurements to make this dress. I mean, it must be sheer, dumb luck that we just happened to stop by her shop that day, and with this party being so last minute," Clover gave a playful click of her tongue as she shook her head, watching him from the corner of her eye. "Well, it must have been such a nightmare to make a dress like this and a new suit on such short notice."
"You've proven your point."
She smiled, dropping the sarcastic lilt to her voice as that anxious churning to her stomach as she descended the stairs finally got the better of her. When her heels were firmly back on level ground, Clover turned to look up at him, feeling herself begin to flush but unable to stop herself from giving in to the flirtatious air of their banter.
"Do you at least approve?"
Alastor's ears twitched at the question, frozen at the foot of the stairs with his mouth agape; His radio stations flickered, stopping suddenly and then beginning to roll back at a rapid pace before it all faded back into that rolling record noise. The sharp breath he took to answer was thick with static, but before he could speak, a gruff sigh broke the tension that had begun to form between them.
"Are you two gonna' stand there makin' eyes at each other all fuckin' night or are you gonna leave?"
"H̶u̷s̴k̷e̴r̸," The name was ground between sharp teeth, and Alastor turned on Husk with a sharp crack of his neck as his radio spit static; The Radio Demon's demeanor shifted abruptly back to its prior pleasantries as he turned back to Clover. "It is normal to be fashionably late for these things, but it seems that we are fashionably punctual! Perhaps a drink before we go, to pass the time."
Clover nodded, too distracted by the realization that she still hadn't let go of his arm and that Alastor hadn't attempted to drop it of his own volition. It was cool against the heat of her skin, the soft satin finish of his suit almost soothing against the goosebumps that coated her arms, and she had to fight against the urge to lean further into it as her flush began to creep down her neck- Clover needed to get alcohol into her system now, before she made more of a fool of herself without intoxication as an excuse. They sat at the bar, Clover gently unwinding her arm from his once she'd balanced herself on the barstool. Alastor took his normal seat one stool away, turning to Husk with a grin laced with daring.
"What would you recommend, bartender?"
"Go fuck yourself," Was Husk's gruff reply.
"I don't think I've ever heard of that one, what's in it?"
She couldn't help but laugh at Alastor's cheerful comeback, Clover covering her mouth to stifle her snort as Husk turned towards her with a heavy sigh.
"Whadda'ya want sweetheart?"
"Uh-" Quickly wracking her brain for something simple but sweet, Clover watched Husk's brow raise at her answer. "A mint julep sounds nice, actually."
Husk seemed pleasantly surprised as he turned to start making her drink, holding up the bottle of bourbon for Alastor's approval before pouring her companion a glass of it straight.
"Ya' know, sometimes I wonder how the hell you know so much," Husk said as he packed her glass with ice. "You don't seem like the drunkard type, and I'd expect ya' to order some more of the fruity shit at your age."
The glasses ground against the wood as Husk pushed the two demons their drinks, the barkeep downing his double shot of dark liquor after raising his glass to them both. Clover sipped at her drink, smiling at the pleasant blend of syrup and spearmint before continuing with the conversation.
"I'm not usually that much of a drinker, it's just a social thing. I used to go out drinking with my dad before he-"
"Smile, kids!"
The room was suddenly filled with a flash, sending spirals of color across her vision as Clover turned her head towards the voice that had joined them in the room. Her ears twitched sharply towards the screech of radio feedback that came undoubtedly from Alastor, his radio peaking painfully before it began to simmer with static. Clover wobbled on her chair as she winced, feeling its legs rock as she nearly tumbled over, her hands fumbling to grip the bar top- Another spike of interference warned her of how close she'd come to falling as she felt Alastor grab hold of her elbow, his fingertips buzzing against her bare skin as he held her steady. Clover rapidly blinked the bloom from her eyes, and as the world faded back to the proper exposure she found the source of the interruption standing a few feet from the bar, grinning shamelessly at the three sputtering demons. Angel Dust's smile widened as she recognized him, the duffle he'd tossed over his back shifting as he hiked it up from where it had fallen and pulled out the Polaroid printing from her camera.
To say the static coming from beside her was intense is an understatement, the very air around Alastor shimmering its vibration. His fingers uncurled from around Clover's arm, moving jerkily as he placed it back into his lap while he pinched the bridge of his nose with his other hand; Ever breath rattled in his chest, sucked through his teeth as Alastor's smile grew grim.
" Angel-" Alastor began, his voice tense, echoing with radio interference as he spoke through grit teeth. "Was that really necessary? A warning, or perhaps even a proposition, would have been appreciated."
Husk seemed surprised at how polite Alastor's response had been, his wide eyes shifting briefly to Clover's stunned expression before they shot to Angel leaning at the end of the bar.
"Aw, what's da' matta' Al?" Angel said as he held up the slowly developing photograph. "You two look adorable, it's gunna' be a good one."
"I understand that your instincts vastly differ from mine, or those of any other well-mannered member of society, but I must ask you to refrain."
Ignoring Alastor's tantrum, Angel looked to Clover with a wide smile as he passed her the Polaroid and held up her camera again.
"Ya' want me tuh' take a photo of you in ya' dress? Ya' look hot! Right, boys?"
There was little response from the bar as Husk grumbled a non-descript almost -agreement and poured himself another drink; Alastor seemed too preoccupied with managing his temper to pay the question any mind, his radio stations shifting rapidly as he gave the suggestion a short nod. Clover was beginning to wonder if his radio scrubbing was a nervous tick, or perhaps an unintentional signal for his state of mind; Either way, it was something she'd have to test in the future, but for now she was more preoccupied with keeping Alastor's ire away from her newfound friend.
"That's a good idea, Angel, thank you- I think I'd like to remember tonight."
She caught Alastor's ear flick up in interest as she twisted herself in her seat and hopped down from the stool with a soft clack of heels. Clover shifted herself away from the bar's other occupants so they wouldn't be caught candid in the background, and quickly made sure that her dress was sitting properly on her hips. As she awkwardly folded her hands in front of her to pose, it all began to feel like the moment before prom that you see in so many movies, and the thought brought an honest smile to her lips. Angel bent down to get a better angle but didn't bother to count down the photo, the spider smiling brightly as he clicked down the button and the flash blinded her once again- Clover sighed and sputtered, hoping that it would be an alright photo despite her being not-so ready for it.
"You took my camera," She said as Angel stepped up beside her.
"Seemed a shame for ya' to get all dolled up and not get it on film, right?"
"I guess so, just- Ask me next time, okay?" Clover sighed, taking the photograph as it printed from her camera and shaking it between her fingers. "Isn't it a little early for you to be up?"
"Yeah, but I'm meetin' up with a friend before my show tonight."
"Well, break a leg, you'll have to tell me how it went when I see you again."
"Sure! I'd ask ya' to come watch if I wanted ya' within a block of the joint, and if ya' didn't already have betta' plans. "
Angel waggled a brow in her direction as he pulled the camera's strap from around his neck and placed it on the counter beside her, reaching out to ruffle her hair and darting away before she could complain- He gave Alastor a wink as he passed, reaching over the bar to grab Husk's freshly filled glass and downing the contents before he swayed out the door.
"Have fun, use protection, all that jazz!"
Clover shook her head in good humor at her flamboyant friend as she returned to the bar with both photographs in hand.
Alastor seemed to have calmed himself down slightly, sipping sourly on a dark liquor on the rocks. Looking down at the almost overexposed images, Clover felt her heart flutter; The photograph was utterly candid, Clover visibly in conversation with Husk as she sipped her drink, dark red lips pulled into a small smile despite his gruff expression. Alastor sat beside them, giving her his full attention as he listened to her banter with the barkeep, his ears alert and brow raised in interest. The soft smile that took the place of his usual toothy grin caused her stomach to turn and twist, her brow furrowing in confusion at the unexpected gentleness that had settled in the warmth of his eyes.
It was a nice image, one that she would have been inclined to keep if the irritated static wasn't giving her other ideas. Taking a long sip of her drink for support, Clover leaned across the space between them, purposefully placing the small white rectangles beside Alastor's half-empty glass and resting her hand on them reverently. Her voice was only for him, softer than the flickering radio stations and static that slowed as she spoke.
"It's a nice candid, like a still from a movie, but I know how you feel- You can keep it, or get rid of it, it's your decision. As for the other one, would you mind holding onto it for me until later? This dress may be nice, but it's lacking pockets."
Alastor turned his head towards her ever so slightly, his pupils turned into the corner of his eyes as he looked down at her through the red-filter of his monocle. He didn't say a word, looking back down at the photos for a moment of uncharacteristic silence before he picked them up and tucked them inside his suit jacket.
Clover smiled, looking up at the clock on the wall before speaking again.
"It's almost eight, would it be a good time to leave?"
"Yes, I think that would be best."
He was on his feet before she could blink, Alastor straightening his jacket with a sharp tug. Clover downed the rest of her drink, the burn of watered-down bourbon settling into her bones and warming the cold chill that had begun to creep up her spine. Gratefully taking the hand that was offered to her, Clover hopped down from her chair and double-checked that her dress was still sitting where it should. Husk watched with a raised brow, uncorking a bottle with a loud pop and pouring himself another shot. The glass that Alastor had been drinking from sat still half-full, left behind as he turned to pick up his microphone from where he'd set it against the bar and headed for the door- Clover grabbed the glass, raised it to Husk in a toast, and downed it's contents, all the while trying not to think of the underlying intimacy that could come from sharing a drink with another person, before rushing to catch up with Alastor before he noticed her lagging behind.
The door was held open for her, Alastor taking a calming breath before gesturing for her to go first with that damned, charming smile.
"Shall we?"