The soft knock on her door in the early hours of the morning woke her, Clover untangling herself from the long limbs of Angel Dust that had wrapped themselves around her in the night and quietly making her way towards the sound. Blinking in the light from the hallway, Clover waited for her vision to clear to reveal her early morning visitor.

"Hello!"

It was Charlie, smiling brightly and holding a platter containing a plate of pancakes with bacon, a cup of coffee, and orange juice. Trying her best not to wince at the chipper blonde's volume so early in the morning, Clover put on her best smile.

"Good morning, what's up?"

"Uh, well Niffty made breakfast, but you weren't up yet and Angel isn't answering, so-"

"Oh, Angel is with me. We fell asleep watching a movie."

"Oh, good! I'll bring up some for him too. You, uh, also have a couple of pieces of mail?"

"I do?"

Charlie only nodded, sliding the envelopes from beneath the plate of pancakes to hand them to Clover before passing over breakfast with a smile. Moving back into her bedroom, Clover set down the plate as quietly as she could, crawling up onto her bed slowly in an attempt to not wake the sleeping Angel Dust too abruptly. Looking down at the sleeping spider, Clover felt her heart soften for the softness of his expression. An innocence that was rarely found in him was visible when he slept, his expression calm and his breathing so slow that she almost regretted having to wake him. Resisting the urge to run her fingers through the white fluff on top of his head, Clover laid a hand gently against his shoulder.

"Angel?"

He only grumbled, pushing his face further into her pillow.

"Angel, there's food."

"There betta' be fuckin' food if ya' wakin' me up this early."

The spider untangled his limbs from her blankets with a sigh, pressing his palms into his eye sockets before sitting up.

"What time is it?"

Reaching for her phone, Clover winced at the bright flash that filled the room before squinting in search of the time among the multitude of notifications that were cluttering her device. She would deal with those later.

"Noon."

"Shit doll, don'tcha work today?"

"Yeah, in a couple of hours. I'm just gonna throw on a big sweater and go, Cyrus doesn't care what I wear to work."

"Who?"

"Cyrus, my boss."

"He cute?"

Clover snorted, handing him the plate of food.

"He's alright, he's kind of an asshole but he's been very kind to me."

Angel hummed through a mouthful of pancakes, the two of them settling back under the covers to idly watch episodes of some Hellverse soap opera. Charlie returned, leaning her head into the room slightly more than she needed to when she delivered more breakfast and smiling brightly when she found Angel Dust awake and engrossed in their current episode's climax. When Clover began to leisurely begin getting ready for work, her phone rang, the number once again a shifting mess of icons and numbers. Angel's head raised from searching through her wardrobe at the blast of music that came through the speaker when she picked up, Clover wincing away from the handheld device before answering hesitantly.

"Hello?"

"Good afternoon! Is this the lady of the house speaking?"

"...Yes?"

"Well, it's your lucky day! I'm bringing to you the offer of an after-life-time, if you would grant me just a mome-"

"Rot."

Angel Dust roared with laughter at her deadpan response, falling back onto her bed after growing bored of the contents of her dresser as she hung up the phone. The multitude of notifications covering her home screen finally irritate her enough for her to address them, scrolling through the multitude of emails, text messages, and comments on her Voxogram. Most of it seemed like the average spam, Clover sighing heavily as she deleted them all without paying much mind to them. She didn't have enough contact here for them to be legitimate anyway. Her phone landed on the bed with a bounce, Clover sighing heavily as she returned to the bathroom to pull a beanie over unwashed hair, tucking her ears through the makeshift holes in the top as she began to complain.

"Literally how did my information get sold in Hell, the only people that have my phone number are you, Charlie, Cherri, and Cyrus, this is fucking ridiculous."

"It's Hell babe, what did ya' expect? We gotta' fucking Overlord that's all about that kinda' shit."

"Wait, really?"

Angel rolled onto his back, watching her sort through her slowly growing collection of flannels as he continued.

"Yeah, he's one'a Val's friends, part'a this little trio they got goin' on that they call Triple V. It's a fuckin' stupid name if ya' ask me."

"That sounds like a Batman villain."

Angel huffed a laugh, ignoring her interject in favor of unleashing more Hell-lore onto her.

"Ya' already know the electronic bastard, or at least ya' should, his name is all ova' the internet down here. Vox is as full of 'imself as the rest of the big daddies around 'ere."

"So he controls the internet?"

"Nah, all of it. Cell phones, televisions, music production, he's got a cable in all of it. If it's got a circuit board involved, he's connected."

"Sounds like a nosey son of a bitch."

This time Angel fell into a fit of giggles and snorts, sliding off her bed with a clatter as she moved to pull on her shoes. She debated leaving her phone, but thought better of it, slipping the slim electronic into her back pocket. Departing from Angel at his bedroom door with an offer for him to come get a drink on her before closing, Clover made her way down the staircase with hopes of finding static waiting for her at the bottom. When none met her ears by the time she'd made the first landing, her heart sank, and Clover immediately cursed herself for how much her mood had come to rely on interacting constantly with Alastor. Her walk to work was thankfully uneventful, Clover basking in the reprieve from the frantic events of the last 48 hours.

Cyrus was idly wiping down tables when she arrived, the cafe only filled with a few scattered patrons in the odd afternoon hours. He eyed her carefully as she passed him to place her belongings in the backroom, finding him waiting by the bar's entrance when she'd returned.

"Hey, you, uh- You doin' alright doll?"

"Yeah, just kinda tired. This weekend was...a lot."

The lizard narrowed his eyes at her, tongue flicking between his lips as they pulled into a scowl.

"Ya' gettin' into more trouble?"

"I don't like what you're implying."

"You look like ya' got hit by a bus-s-s."

Clover sighed, adjusting her apron before shimmying past him into the bar area.

"I'm tired, can we not do this?"

Cyrus crumpled in defeat, leaning over the counter with a small huff.

"Fine, ya' next paycheck's-s-s in the back for ya' to take home at the end of the night. I'm gonna' run to the bank, I'll be back before it gets busy again."

She'd only remembered the flash of intrigue about Cyrus's business and her sampling of his product when he stepped behind the bar for a to-go coffee, the last bit of a rolled bit of paper disappearing as he drew in the last of it before putting it out on the ashtray he kept hidden behind the counter. He turned to her when she spoke, blowing the residual smoke out of his nostrils as his brow rose in interest.

"Your product is good, by the way."

"How'd you know? I ain't given you any."

"A friend gave me some at a party, I didn't know you sold to the Colony."

"I didn't know you partied in the Colony."

The slowed timber of his voice was almost pleasant, Clover thankful that whatever amount of marijuna he'd ingested lended him to a calmer approach to their conversation. She debated on how to tell him the logistics of the situation, wondering whether to be vague enough to avoid his judgment or if disallowing the opportunity for further questions was the best option. Airing on the side of honesty had done her well so far, and she hoped that it would do her the same service here.

"Alastor took me to Mimzy's."

Cyrus blinked at her, once, twice, before answering.

"That's a nice place, so you twos datin' now?"

"No, we're not-"

"I didn't know the Radio Demon smoked weed."

"He doesn't, Mimzy does though, but you know that."

Tilting his head at her, Cyrus leaned his back against the pastry case with a small smile as their conversation continued.

"Do I?"

"Do you give all of your clients engraved cigarette cases?"

"Only the ones at the top, and that gal's numa' one."

Cyrus absconded soon after, slinking out of the front door with a wink in her direction before disappearing down the empty street.

The rest of her day went by with gentle monotony, Cyrus returning in time for her to take a break before beginning closing tasks after helping her handle the after work rush that tended to overtake them in the late afternoon hours. Tucking her heavier than needed paycheck into her bag and fixing herself a drink for the walk home, Clover followed the familiar path along the edge of the Cannibal Colony back to the hotel. She had just transitioned into the more urban shopping area when her phone began to ring, Clover quickly pulling the device from her pocket, worried that Cryus was calling her, but the newly familiar name that had lit up the screen in a toxic teal wasn't that of her reptilian employer.

V̴̙̙̽ő̵̥x̵̳̝̊

The rolling mess of binary and pixels sparked more interest than she knew was good for her, the name already stirring a sickness in her stomach, but she answered none the less.

"Hello?"

"Good afternoon! I would like to-"

"Stop trying to contact me."

"It would be a good idea to listen to what I'm off-"

"I don't want any, stop calling me."

"Wait!"

The voice that came through the phone was far louder than she'd expected, her fingers frozen hovering above the red icon to end this strange and unwanted phone call as she stared down at the device's flickering screen in shock. Raising the phone back to her ear, she found it harder to maintain her confidence as he continued.

"I don't think you know who I am."

"I know; I'm just not interested in whatever it is you want from me. I honestly don't even know why you've started bothering me. What, did the grace period for cyber privacy for new arrivals die off?"

"We could be beneficial to each other."

"Stop hacking my shit!"

"Clover?"

The voice behind her startled her enough for her to nearly drop her cell phone, fumbling to catch the device before it shattered on the concrete and hanging up the call. When she turned, she found Alastor looking down at her with a raised brow, head tilted in an endearing fashion that only furthered in angle as she blinked up at him. Ignoring the instant release of tension that dropped her shoulders upon realizing it was him, Clover tried her best to appear normal.

"Hi Al, are you heading to the hotel?"

"Yes, Miss Morningstar has requested my presence for dinner, something about her wanting it to be a "family affair"."

"Oh, I didn't know."

"Well, now you do!"

He stared at her for a long moment before something seemed to catch his eye across the street, crimson darting between the distraction and her own pink stare before he leaned towards her abruptly.

"I must ask, but you seemed awfully put-off by whoever was contacting you on your mobile telephone. Is there something I could help you with?"

"No, not really. Just being bothered by spam, nothing I'm not used to from living in modern day society."

A pointed look towards whatever he'd spied didn't go unnoticed, Clover resisting the urge to turn away from him to let herself in on the situation, distracted when his attention was focused towards her once again.

"Ah, yes. Technology has its downfalls. Perhaps you should avoid indulging for a while."

"Do you have a plan to keep me distracted enough to do so? Watching movies in bed is kind of my nightly routine."

"Well, it seems that Charlie's charming choice for camaraderie this evening came at an apt time. Come now! We must not be late."

Alastor took hold of her arm, almost jostling her drink from her fingers as he swept her down the street, his radio kicking up immediately at a volume far louder than should have been proper for the situation. Clover took the chance at being turned to look at whatever had been drawing his attention across the slowly filling streets, peering between the shoulders of those in favor of the night-life and finding nothing more but a wall of televisions flickering in a store front, the visage of a face fading into the static.