The music had died away the further they got from the club, taking a winding stroll through the closer buildings that Clover had never seen before until they looped around to double back down the central street housing entertainment that the club sat on, Alastor idly talking about the area all the way. It wasn't surprising that he knew enough to fill the silence, Clover pleasantly distracted from her own wandering thoughts by listening to the melodic tones of his voice mixing with the soft song that set the background music for their moment together. She only interrupted him as they passed a curious structure sitting on the horizon, just a few streets shy of their turning point and looming imposingly over the rest of Cannibal Colony.

'What's that?"

Alastor barely spared a glance towards it as she stopped, head tilted at her curious staring as static rose and fell.

"Why, that's my radio tower, my dear! I'm surprised this is the first you've inquired about it!"

"Well, I assumed you had a place you broadcast from, I just never noticed it before. So, is this where you go when you pull your disappearing acts?"

"It is technically my home, dear, the hotel is a temporary thing, my office serves its purpose but I've existed here long before Miss Morningstar took up charity as her hobby of choice. I have many little places scattered throughout our little circle."

Clover turned to him, ears twitching as his radio station flickered and settled on a new tune.

"I didn't even know you had an office at the hotel."

"Hah! I am a proprietor of our humble establishment, as well as it's highest benefactor, it is necessary that I have a place to conduct business while on the premises."

"I would have assumed it was the bar."

Alastor laughed, pulling her back on their path and humming cheerfully along to the music, seeming to have decided that it was time for them to move radio switched off again as they neared the club once again, to not mix the music into a mess of noise, Alastor said. They'd just passed through the groups of people, Clover clinging tightly to his side as another round of glances in their direction fueled her self consciousness and finding comfort in the soft humming vibrating into her from the man beside her. Just when she'd calmed enough, looking up to the sky as they walked along with the radio warming back to life, it screeched itself to a silence like death, startling her to attention once again.

She turned, first looking at Alastor, who had stepped slightly in her way with a tight smile. Her eyes focused on him for only a moment, distracted by the movement against the wall behind him. A mass of limbs tangled together, a set of painted claws pressed up against the red brick at the wrist by a hand covered in dark fur. The image came together slowly, Clover feeling the rise of a flush to her cheeks even as her body recoiled at the sight. A couple perhaps, pressed together in the shadows with her leg hooked around his hip, pale green thighs shining in the moonlight through the slit in a dress that was slowly being pushed up her hips. Her ears twitched as the sounds hit her, but the sudden click of Alastor's radio followed by a booming jazz band drowned it all out before she could become too embarrassed. At any other moment, seeing a sight like that would have churned her stomach, Clover not fond of viewing any private connection between two people displayed like that. Even the sloppy, half shadowed and quickly cut scenes in films made her wince, but now, her still-hazed mind replaced those prying hands with the leather clad claws that were currently turning her away from the public display of attraction, and the curves of the demoness pressed against the wall with her own, softer form.

The clearing of Alastor's throat finally snapped her out of it, their feet moving swiftly down the alleyway beside the offending duo and away from the image put in front of them.

"Perhaps another way, away from...that."

Clover looked up at him, finding him near scowling while somehow still holding onto that dark smile. Letting her mouth run away from her again, Clover tried her best to push the image that was burned into her mind into its depths.

"Not fond of PDA, I see."

"Or the whole affair really, but I cannot understand why sinners insist on making what should be private, public, and forcing the rest of us to watch them wallow about."

She understood what Angel Dust meant when he'd mentioned Alastor's aversion to intimate acts before, but she couldn't help but smile at the Radio Demons stuttering. An odd sense of understanding settled over her, her curiosity rising as she wondered where on the spectrum Alastor lay, and how close to her own feelings it fell.

"The whole affair, is this because of disinterest or-"

"Disinterest, yes, I have always had many other, more important things to be thinking about. A career, music, culinary exploration, what book to read next, getting away with mu- Well, you get the point."

"You can say murder Al, I'm not that naive. I may not know all the details but I certainly know your reputation. And, I listen to the radio."

"My point is-."

"I get it, Al. You don't have to explain, my opinion is similar."

It was quiet for a long moment, the only sound being the click of heels against the stone and the music of Alastor's radio. Clover could feel the buzz of something beside her, but it was hard to tell if it was annoyance or anxiety in her flustered state. Instead, she tried to lighten the situation in the only way she knew worked for sure between them.

Humor and honesty.

"So, I don't have any widows that might have made their way down here getting the wrong idea about us to worry about, do I?"

Alastor laughed, the weight on her chest lifting slightly at the sound.

"I never married."

"Ex-girlfriends?"

"None of those, either."

"That's honestly hard to believe."

He stopped, turning to look down at her as a vintage car zipped past them, ignoring the loud horn that rang through the air.

"Very few people have the patience for me, I am not an easy man to get along with."

"I think that people have just never tried. Any kind of relationship, friendship or otherwise, is a two way street. Besides, if everything was easy, then nothing would be interesting. I'm not easy to get along with either."

Alastor hummed in contemplation before moving again, helping her off the curb to continue their walk.

"Incorrect, but that poses the question. Is that why you've delivered yourself to us, because you believe you're not easy to get along with?"

Her heart sank, Clover freezing where she stood in the middle of the street. Part of her had always had a feeling that Alastor hadn't bought her lie upon their first meeting, but being faced with the fact was a whole other beast. Alastor didn't seem bothered, placing a hand on the small of her back and slowly pushing her towards the sidewalk.

"I apologize darling, I thought you knew."

"How long have you known?"

"Why, since we first met, of course! Do you really think that I can't see that a lie, as thinly veiled as that one was, is just that?"

"...It wasn't very good, I'll give you that."

"And! I know your name isn't 'Clover' either, as fitting as it is."

"Al, I- My life was basically ruined, and I was just trying to protect my-"

"None of these things matter, really, not down here, at least."

Clover looked up at him, shocked into silence at the sincerity in his voice. He smiled down at her, linking his arm with hers as he continued to speak, shifting their conversation to a barely-brighter note.

"You've spoken of your family, tell me about that. I gather that some of your relationships were more tumultuous than others. What tragic tale do you have to weave?"

"Uh…"

Her head was reeling from what she'd just learned still, but she internally thanked Alastor for not pushing further on the matter. For now, she needed a distraction, and she wasn't sure that delving into her life among the living was going to be enough for that. She didn't know where to start, so she turned the question on it's head.

"Can, uh, can you go- Tell me about your family, I'm honestly at a loss of where to start…"

"Ah, my family is not so special, a classic tale of a Southern American family."

"You've referenced that it could have been as tumultuous as mine, Al, I remember when I said my grandmother wanted the world to believe we were perfect. I'm not that drunk."

"Well, yes, that's exactly what I mean! A classic Southern American family, hell bent on upholding frivolous appearances while the monarch, or patriarch, slowly destroys those weaker than them inside closed doors. Tragic, really, that humanity has no true reprieve, even in their own homes."

"Sometimes I can't tell if you enjoy the suffering of others or are completely unbothered by it."

Alastor grinned, turning them around a corner and guiding her down a familiar alleyway.

"It all depends on the circumstances, my dear!"

Clover could feel that getting Alastor to talk about the more sensitive parts of his life was going to be like pulling teeth, so she tread lightly.

"Are you an only child?"

"Why, yes, I was."

"That's not surprising."

"Hah! I suppose you had siblings then?"

"I had a little brother, but I had so many younger cousins that I was expected to take care of it might as well have been twenty."

"That's not surprising!"

"Very funny, what is that supposed to mean?"

"You're an exceedingly patient woman, kind, understanding, but you've got a sternness about you that comes from having to take care of one's self and those around them with little help or gratitude. I've only ever met one other woman who I've seen these qualities come together in such a way, and she happens to be the only other woman I've ever felt I could truly trust."

"And who is that?"

"My mother."

Stunned into silence, Clover finally looked up from her enticing view of her shoes that had kept her from looking up at Alastor as he spoke as she saw familiar flecks of green begin to peer out around the cobbled walkway. She smiled to herself, knowing exactly where he'd taken her and allowing the warmth of the gesture to spread across her skin. The comparison Alastor had made was probably the greatest compliment he'd ever paid, well, anyone, and the fact that it had been given to her carried a weight she wasn't sure she was prepared to carry. All she knew was that the more she got to know Alastor, the more she uncovered to be completely charmed by. As they neared the empty fountain, she found herself longing for more.

"My, you have been drinking."

Laughing softly to himself, Alastor led her to a nearby bench, allowing her to sit down before he took his place beside her, taking a long, slow breath before continuing the conversation in the gentle quiet of the secret garden.

"It is none of my business, but you've referenced more than one person of importance to your upbringing."

"Oh, it's fine. I've had to explain this my entire life, it kind of comes with having a broken family held together by wallpaper paste and fresh paint."

More at ease that she'd gotten a laugh out of him at that, Clover sunk back into the bench and fell into the familiar pattern of explaining her family's dynamic.

"I was raised by my grandparents, I believe I mentioned my grandmother before, but my mom was also in my life briefly as a child until I was manipulated to request not seeing her anymore. When I turned eighteen and my grandmother died, we started talking again and I found out all the dark family secrets, which is it's own story entirely. The man I call my dad is actually my step-grandfather, I actually had a good relationship with him, my real dad hasn't been allowed to have contact with me since I was about five, after he-"

Clover fell silent, unsure if she wanted to delve this far into the tragedy that was her life story and the beginning of the unfortunate history she had with men, reeling back her intoxicated honesty before this all turned far darker than she was prepared for at the moment. Clearing her throat, she continued.

"Well, anyway, my grandmother was an awful woman who was self-assured that she was doing the right thing at all times. She treated my mom the same way she treated me growing up, but my mom got out earlier on in life when her parents divorced and she lived with my grandfather. Divorce and remarriage happens a lot in my family. My step-grandfather, my dad, was an artist for a long time, even moved across the country to try and get further ahead so he could support us, so I was left alone with my grandmother and brother for a lot of my life, but when his company wanted him to move even further away, he resigned and came home. Both of my grandparents worked at the private school I went to after that, but my dad worked multiple jobs to try and provide for us. When my grandmother died, I was 17, about to go to college, and he fell ill soon afterwards. He never fully recovered, and continued to work himself to death to provide for my brother, who was too spoiled to do anything to help any of us. He died of a heart attack about...well, about a month before I showed up here. That was kind of the last straw for me, I think."

"I'm...sorry."

Clover turned to look at him, feeling the sick dread that filled her stomach whenever she accidently over-explained her personal life, mixing with the liquor that still fueled her honesty and turning quickly into panic. Alastor seemed utterly confused, staring at their feet with a twisted smile and furrowed brow. Whether he was indifferent to her turmoil or just trying to be kind to her, she wasn't sure, but she powered ahead to amend their awkwardness.

"It's alright, he was in a lot of pain, I'm glad he's not suffering anymore. He's not down here with us, at least."

"Certainly not."

Alastor straightened, sighing audibly as his radio fell to silence as he began to speak, voice warped by static.

"My mother was a wonderful woman, but my father was not. Being a child of mixed race in my time, even in New Orleans, was considered taboo. My mother was a black woman, if that makes this situation more clear. My father held no pride in having me for a son, which was fine by me, he was a disgrace of a man who took advantage of those who could not defend themselves. As much as I miss her in my life, I am thankful we were not reunited in death, nor that she was ever privy to my, well, darker tastes."

"And your father?"

Alastor only smiled, the expression tightened with emotion but brief, dropping his gaze to the flexing of his own hands.

"That's another story entirely."

Clover thought for a long moment, puzzle pieces clicking together as the electricity began to run swiftly towards that lightbulb in her head. It all made much more sense now, Alastor's warped sense of morality. If she was reading the situation he described correctly, abuse weighed heavily on both of their pasts, and had obviously altered their growth in one way or another. Perhaps she was psychoanalyzing him too much with little evidence, but where her life's circumstances made her the person she was, Alastor's had more than likely had a hand in making him the man he was now. The nervous flickering of radio stations returned her attention to him beside her, Clover rolling her lips together before moving the subject matter to something that would hopefully bring her positive friend back to life.

"When did you start doing radio?"

With a swift change in key, Alastor's radio picked up a lively tune as his smile returned to it's normal glory.

"Well! I was working for a newspaper, just backroom printing work, nothing glamorous, when a fellow from a local station dropped by on business. He heard me speak, and offered me a position right there! It was just small opportunities at first, but as my talents grew, so did my popularity, and within the year I was hosting my own show."

"Sorry to repeat myself, but I am not surprised."

"Go on."

Clover smiled at the obvious fish for compliments, having to hold herself back from rolling her eyes at the demon's endearing ego.

"Whatever 'it' is, you have it. Even in the world as it is now, in my time, you would be fantastic. It's honestly a shame that you didn't get the chance to do film, you're so expressive, and your voice would have been perfect for it."

"As much as I do enjoy a good picture show now and then, the life of an actor would have required an expensive change of scenery and the abandonment of my, well, other ventures."

She didn't have to ask what he meant, she knew. The clawing curiosity ate away at her for only a moment before she gave in, leading with humor to try and keep the conversation light.

"Or you would have ended up with even more fame with Hollywood's track record, but anyway. When did that start?"

"With my father."

The nonchalant tone gave Clover chills, bright pink blinking rapidly in surprise. Knowing Alastor's bloody past had never bothered her as much as she assumed it should have, and this information only sent a strange sensation through her psyche. Perhaps her own parental trauma and overall experience with being taken advantage of made her more sympathetic to the odd morality play his killing took part in, but she tried not to think too hard about the idea.

She doubted that there was therapy in Hell, as much as they all needed it.

"I'm sorry, Cher, this conversation became more profound than I'd intended."

Clover couldn't help but laugh slightly at the oddness of the situation, wondering how she'd somehow gotten the sympathy of a cold-blooded killer on her side, but thankful for all that he gave her.

"It's alright, I'm the one who keeps prying, I really don't mind sharing with you. I was always a very open person until recent events, I think it's good that I feel comfortable being that way with you."

"You are far more self-aware than most sinners, I admire that in you."

"I've just been through some things, I feel like it's hard not to be after… well, that."

"Those who have made mistakes of taking advantage of your good-nature deserve what will come of them."

Clover stood quickly, allowing Alastor's jacket to fall to the bench behind her, forcing the flutter that the thinly-veiled threat sent through her and the rush of questions she craved to ask into the energy for action as she turned towards him and held out her hand.

"Dance with me, before we have to go home. Without anyone watching."

She wasn't quite sure where the urge had come from, but the creeping rays of red that had begun to peek around the stone archway into the garden fell over her with a sense of dread that their night was coming to an end, and whatever spell Alastor was under would soon be broken. Alastor looked up at her with a raised brow, smile tilted in amusement. Impatient, she spoke again when he took a moment too long to respond.

"Please?"

A sharp intake of breath rose his shoulders briefly, shaking the air between them as he exhaled before standing. Alastor took her hand, twirling her slowly as his smile softened from its warbled state into something more genuine as he spoke.

"Who am I to say no to a lady?"