Clover was now certain that something was amiss.

While the route to the radio tower was one they'd walked before, it felt as if Alastor wasn't quite sure of how to reach their destination. Their path meandered, swaying off into side streets they often avoided while he chattered on about anything and everything without rhyme or reason; What was most unsettling about it all was that his radio was uncharacteristically silent, the soft static that painted his voice coming and going at an immeasurable frequency. Once they had entered the picturesque streets of the Cannibal Colony, when Alastor's fast-paced chatter had pittered off into pleasant silence and they'd settled into enjoying the scenery, that nagging feeling in the back of her mind got the best of her again.

"Alastor?" Clover asked, and Alastor hummed a sweet little sound as he tilted his head to look down at her; It was almost enough to make her regret meddling. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course! Whyever do you ask?"

"I'm not sure but you seem- Not tense, just a little out of sorts."

"Perhaps I am a bit distracted," Alastor sighed, his ears falling flat against the heavy buzz of static that warped his words. "It's nothing you need to worry about, I assure you."

"Do you want to talk about it? I've been told I'm a good liste- Wha- Alastor!"

Clover shrieked as he suddenly looped his arm with hers and swung her into the street, Alastor hopping off the sidewalk after her with a new skip to his step as she was swept towards the bandstand in the Colony's center square. His radio abruptly rejoined them, picking a bouncy ragtime tune that shifted the nervous sizzle of static into something with slightly more showmanship as Alastor gripped her waist and lifted her up the stairs. Clover tucked her knees to her chest to keep her shoes from hitting the steep steps- They landed on the wooden platform with a hollow "thunk" that was quickly outshone by the loud "clack" of Alastor's as he hopped up beside her.

"But that would spoil the surprise, my dear!" He grinned, the amplification of his voice peaking ever so slightly as he shot his microphone a sideways glance before setting it aside.

The scenery became a blur of pastels as Alastor took her by the hand and twirled her on unsteady toes, before he sent her stumbling into his chest with a sharp tug. Now that she was more firmly on her feet again, Clover shook her head at his antics and allowed him to lead her as they swayed to his song, unconcerned with the onlooking cannibals that had decided to take in the evening air.

It had become so easy for them to fall together, that electrifying push and pull between them turning something as simple as a dance into yet another game for them to play; When Clover ducked under his arm on an outward swing, Alastor responded with a twist that turned her back to him, his fingers tangling with hers as they gave a little kick on the snap of a drum and leading her to rock against him with the swell of a trumpet. Clover's skin tingled with static at his touch, his fingertips dancing down her arm before they fell to the curve of her hip and turned her towards him. There was no warning aside from the cheeky little tilt to his smile before he stepped forward, one arm looping around her waist while another curled its fingers to cradle the back of her neck, and turned her world upside down. Clover squealed, her weight falling freely into his hands and her fingers grasping the fabric of his coat as he dipped her back so far that her ears brushed the floor.

Alastor returned her to being upright slowly, and her arms looped around his neck as soon as she could reach, pulling him closer so she could affectionately bump her head beneath his chin. His ears flicked as the song faded, showing the truth of his showboating as static found its way back into his frequency.

"Is this about tonight?" Clover asked, pulling back to better look at him when his smile twitched at one corner. "Alastor, are you nervous?"

"Of course not! What a preposterous thing to say!"

His speakers popped on every plosive as the filter dropped from his frequency- Unprofessional, and so unlike him, Clover noted. The radio squeals its displeasure before it shuts off with a hollow click, Alastor's ears pressing flat against his skull as he rushes past the point.

"I just want everything to go as I've planned," Alastor's claws curled beneath her chin, tilting her head back to catch her in a kiss that they'd barely parted from before he purred the rest of his excuses against her lips. "You deserve nothing short of perfection."

"That's why I've got you."

Clover hopped up on toes to quickly kiss his nose before he let her go, watching as he sputtered with a small smile. Once he'd recovered from her cheek, Alastor grabbed his microphone from where he'd left it and nudged her towards the stairs with its stand before skipping down ahead of her. She took the hand he offered to help her down, Clover watching every step she took down staircase's narrow slats just in case she happened to misplace the chunky heels of her shoes- As did Alastor, she noticed, the demon tucking his microphone into the crook of his arm so he could take both of her hands when she wobbled halfway through. He grinned when she used his help to hop off the last step, waiting until she'd linked her arm with his before leading them on.

Something about the way he'd looked standing below her stirred a ridiculous thought, and the longer she lingered on it, the funnier it became. As they passed by the perfectly polished entry of Rosie's Emporium, Clover decided to let Alastor in on the joke.

"If I didn't know you better I would suspect you were planning to propose."

The laugh she had expected never came, Alastor's radio restarting only to stutter through a garbled mess of sound that rattled the windows with its reverberation and sent his shoes stumbling over the cobblestone, pushing his weight into her side as he attempted to right the wrongs of his feet. Ears flick as his frequency fills with static, her pushing forward in interest while his press back against his skull as Alastor's smile warbles around sharp teeth- For a second, Clover swears she saw him blush, but before she can truly take in the warmth growing beneath muted skin he's attempting to dazzle her once again.

Alastor leans into her shoulder, the off-kilter shape to his smile quickly switching to that damned crooked grin as he nods his head towards the open door of the emporium.

"Careful now-" Alastor speaks in hushed tones, lifting from their conspiring to pretend to peer in the windows before ducking back down into the conversation. "If Rosie hears she'll never let either of us hear the end of it."

His radio catches on a tune he doesn't seem to notice, the tail end of a matrimonial march playing out before it stops with a screech and the song quickly switches to a slowly strolling melody that almost distracts her from the mumbled addition he hides beneath his breath.

"And I already hear enough."

Their walk to the Radio Tower continued without further interruption or indecency- The same couldn't be said for the elevator ride to the top floor.

It had started innocently enough; Alastor had held the door open, as he always did, and Clover had walked ahead of him to pace the wall where she'd last known the elevator to be. When she'd found the call button without help, she'd turned at the soft applause that had echoed through the empty entryway and found him watching with a wide smile, seeming very proud that she'd remembered where he'd hidden the way up. She'd waited until Alastor joined her in waiting in front of the doors for her prize, tapping her cheek to show what she wanted, and he'd laughed at her antics before he'd turned her head so he could press his lips to hers instead.

The kiss he'd given her had been too chaste, too simple to satisfy her now that he'd let her off the leash.

Her decision is made as the elevator dings, and Clover can't help but snort at the impeccable timing, waving off Alastor's confused look as they step inside; Once the elevator's door slid closed and they began to climb, the game was afoot.

Alastor stood an appropriate distance away, rocking on his heels while he hummed along to the hollow elevator tune he played and attempting to seem unaware of the shuffling of her feet as she moved closer- But Clover had become an expert in the art of reading Alastor, and he had made it all too easy by being particularly animated this evening. Every shift of her shoes turned his ears further in her direction, his attention undivided as he watched her from the corner of his eye, and much to her delight he matched her next move with a small sideways hop towards her. The space between them quickly closed under their combined efforts, each of them taking a step towards the car's center in turn until they bumped into each other.

When Alastor turned to her, whatever quip or question was on his tongue disappeared as she tucked her fingers beneath his lapels. Clover wobbled on tip-toes as she stretched to reach him, her lips hovering just shy of his to wait for permission she did not need ask for, and Alastor's arms caught her before she tumbled over. The kiss he presses to her lips is again too chaste, almost shy as he holds her to him, and this time she doesn't let him get away with it- His breath hitches as her teeth catch his lip, pulling gently before he has the chance to back away, and Alastor takes the bait.

Clover hadn't expected to end up pressed against the wall, but she wasn't complaining; Though she was curious as to why the elevator seemed to be moving slower than usual.

It hadn't stopped, she could still feel the way the metal rattled against her back as it moved up the hollow shaft of Alastor's tower, but it was giving them an awful lot of time to enjoy themselves. Clover smiles into their kiss, their teeth knocking together as Alastor pulls impossibly closer and takes advantage of the breathless giggle that parts her lips; His tongue traces the sharp points of her teeth before delving deeper, tasting the red wine that lingers and relishing in the tiny sounds she makes as he does. Claws trace the curve of her waist as their push and pull presses her flush against the elevator's wooden paneling, trapping her between the sharp planes of Alastor's shoulders and steel. The tips of her toes brush uselessly against the floor, dangling from where he clutches her to his chest, and Clover arches into him in a feeble attempt to feel more of his form, her head tipping back into his palm as his fingers lace into her hair; Hers cling to his coat, dragging him closer as she resists the urge to hook the knees around the sharp points of his hips so she could climb up and tip the balance back in her favor, but the thrill of being at his mercy is a worthy compromise.

The burning of her lungs is what finally breaks them apart, Clover gasping for much-needed air that is quickly spent on laughter as Alastor chases after her. He huffs into their kiss, unable to coax her lips back to his as she falls into a fit of giggles that she can't seem to stop- Not until his thumb slips across her throat to tuck under her jaw, twisting her head to the side so he can press tender kisses to her skin.

"You like kissing," Clover mumbles. "Who would have ever expected that?"

Alastor stoops to drop her feet back to the floor as she wiggles away from the ticklish brush of his hair against her cheek, but he refuses to let her go. His nose bumps beneath her chin, begging her to make space for him as he buries his face into her neck and breathes in her scent like it would be his last- She can feel his smile, his lips curling upward at one corner as he hums an agreement against her skin.

"I like kissing you," Alastor replies, his voice unfiltered by his radio despite the low, gravel quality sitting heavily in his throat. "It's- Fun."

"Very fun."

Clover's teasing is tainted by teeth as Alastor leans in to kiss her again, tugging at her bottom lip too gently to tear but with enough urgency to bloom red beneath the skin; A fitting replacement for the lipstick that had been lost to the heat of passion. Just when she'd been ready to damn dinner and chance asking Alastor if he'd indulge her a bit more, the elevator dings their arrival.

Alastor pulls back from her so quickly she stumbles and nearly finds herself fast friends with the floor, her wobbling knees too used to his support. Hands scramble for the railing behind her, her arm caught by quick claws that hold fast until she's steadily back on her feet- They fall to pieces all over again when they realize that they'd somehow both ended up wearing her lipstick. Deft fingers curl beneath her chin again as Alastor pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, holding her still so he could better clean crimson from pale skin.

"That's a good color on you," Clover mumbles, her words slurred as he traces along her bottom lip. "You should wear it more often."

"And you call me the flirt."

He comes when she beckons him closer with a crook of her finger, Alastor leaning down and offering her his handkerchief so she can give him the same treatment. The sharp tilt to his smile turns soft beneath her fingertips, his face scrunching adorably as she wipes the red smudge she'd left on his nose and his fingers tapping nonsense against his knees. Now that she was no longer distracted by him, no longer deafened by the pounding of her pulse or preoccupied with wandering hands, Clover could see that disregarding his plans was out of the question; Dark eyes dart toward the shadows beyond the open door as his static grows heavier with every breath, Alastor sharply tucking his handkerchief back into his pocket the second she'd finished and ushering her towards the hallway with a gentle palm pressed to the small of her back.

There would be no change of plans tonight, that much was clear- But that begged the question of what exactly his plans entailed.

Clover had been poured a drink and offered a chair in the library, but she didn't dare let him out of her sight tonight. The savory smell that floated through the hallways had been a convenient excuse to get her into the kitchen and made it almost too easy to convince him to allow her to join him while he finished up the cooking. Clover's feet swung from the too-tall chair as she watched him busy himself by bouncing between kitchen burners, his coat tossed over the chair beside her and his gloves folded beneath her palm- Her sweater had been unceremoniously ripped over her head soon after sitting down, the heat that their shenanigans had brewed beneath her skin becoming too much when combined with the warmth of his kitchen.

The anxious air to him seemed to thin in the face of distraction, Alastor returning to cheerfully humming along with his radio as he tossed a mixture of mushrooms, garlic, and butter in a pan. Whatever he was making smelled like heaven and it was making Clover's curiosity unbearable, but no amount of pouting was able to get an answer out of him.

"If you don't behave, I will make you go sit in the library as I'd originally intended," Alastor's stern tone was much less threatening when paired with the amused quirk of his brow, but it still sent a shiver down her spine. "It's nearly ready, be patient."

Clover's complaining ceased when he'd called in his Shadow to lead her across the hall into a room she'd only seen once before. The last time she'd seen it had been fleeting, a room filled with ghosts of decor whose white sheets had been darkened by dust, nothing like it was now; A grand dining room with walls of deep green and a long table beneath a burnished chandelier, set with proper china and freshly lit candles. Clover stops dead in the doorway as she takes it all in, ignoring the Shadow's dramatic bow as its phantom limb sweeps her into the room in favor of marveling at the effort of it all. This was- A lot, even by Alastor's standards, but she can't help but feel apprehension begin to brew beneath the tender aching of her hopelessly romantic heart. Being suspicious of Alastor wasn't a feeling Clover was in any hurry to get used to, so she quickly squashed the thought and drowned the dryness in her throat with another sip of wine.

Her fingers trace the curved backs of the table's lonely set of chairs, the Shadow's chill nipping at her heels as she sets down her glass at the spot she assumes is meant to be hers- She's proven right as the Shadow pulls out her chair, waiting for her to sit before pushing her into the table and disappearing into the dark hardwood beneath their feet.

The other empty chair feels foreboding in its spot at the far end of the table, miles away from where she sat sipping her wine and listening to the quick steps of Alastor as they cross the hall; It's dragged across the floor as two plates are placed at her end of the table, and Alastor takes his seat at her side. She waited until he'd finished pouring himself a glass of wine and tucked himself into the table to begin eating, feeling his eyes watch as she carefully scooped up a bit of the main course alongside the potatoes he'd paired it with before taking the first bite- While whatever it was might have smelled like heaven, it tasted too good to be held to such simple standards. The meat melted in her mouth before she'd even begun to chew, and if she'd not been trying to be on her best manners she'd have simply sipped the sauce like soup. Her satisfied hum-and-wiggle combo earned her a soft smile from Alastor as they fell into a pleasant silence that was only broken by the clink of silverware.

A soft tune clicked on from the radio in the far corner of the room somewhere in the middle of dinner, filling the air with a trumpet's soulful crooning. Conversation does not come as she expects; Alastor is uncharacteristically quiet, seeming either too focused on the food or too comfortable with her to bother to fill the gap. Under normal circumstances, Clover would have found the fact that they were able to spend moments together in silence sweet- A testament to how far they'd come from the days where she'd do anything to keep him talking- but there was nothing normal about tonight. There's suspense sitting heavily in the air with no source, a ribbon pulled taut that begged to be cut with a blade she did not possess. The ripple of static that warps the music as their feet bump beneath the table lifted her ear, and Clover found herself searching for answers in him again. Alastor often paraded himself as the picture of poised perfection, not a hair out of place nor a frown to be found, but it bothered her that he seemed to be sliding that mask off and on as he pleased tonight, pretending that the clenching of his jaw or the fluctuation or his radio was nothing more than nerves about their meal-

A bold move when he was well aware that Clover saw him for who he was, in more ways than one.

"How do you like it?" Alastor's ears twitch as he looks up to find her watching him, those dark eyes going wide as they flicked away before she had the chance to find intention in them.

"It's delicious, it reminds me of the beef stew we would make with the leftover roast, but like, fancy- Fancy enough that saying that feels like an insult. What's it called?"

"Beef Bourguignon- An old French dish, made with red wine and a fine cut of meat."

"Is this one of the recipes from your mother's cookbook?"

"It is!" His smile brightens, his skin shifting warm as he leans into the candlelight and sets his hand over hers atop the table. "Another I fought to perfect with time."

The needle-sharp point she'd been trying to make dulls as Alastor's expression takes on that soft, forlorn look that often came with mention of his mother, his tenderness threading between her fingers with a gentle tug, but that doesn't stop her from stringing him along as she'd intended.

Clover's head tilts towards him, her ears falling lopsided to listen for the interference she knows will come next as she says-

"Then why were you so nervous to make it?"

The radio stops with a record scratch, stumbling over itself in much the same way as its master; Alastor's breathing stalls, stuck frozen in the knowing glint of her glasses as she pushes them up her nose with new purpose. That oddly endearing startled expression twists his features, warbling his smile and casting a hazy hesitance over his eyes as he gets stuck staring somewhere over her shoulder.

As suddenly as he had stopped, Alastor sprang to life, leaning forward to refill their half-full glasses while he waited out the rapid tuning of his radio. His voice crackles and pops as he tries to speak, and the wine he swallows down in great gulps does little to aid his sputtering as Alastor chokes on air. The static subsides with a sharp cough, allowing Alastor's voice to return uninhibited by the alterations of his microphone; It still shakes, rattling against the tension she'd pulled between them with every clipped consonant.

"Well, I wasn't sure if you'd like it! Your tastes aren't nearly as savory as mine."

"Uh-huh."

Clover's tone falls flat between them, pushing his ears back from her their frantic flicking. Claws catch on her skin as his grip tightens, and Clover holds fast, twisting their hands over so she can stroke her thumb across his palm in a manner she hopes he finds soothing. Her knee brushes his as she shifts closer, alerting her to the incessant bouncing of it beneath the table, and Clover decides that enough is enough- This amount of nervousness was either unnecessary or desperately needed to meet its end now rather than later, if only so she could have back her charismatic, cheerful counterpart to celebrate with.

"Alastor- What's going on? I can tell when something is wrong, and I hate that you're hiding it from me."

The sharp points of his pupils soften at her urgency, his breath blowing against her fingers as he raises her hand to give it a gentle kiss. His smile curls against her skin, Alastor gazing at her with utter fondness from over her knuckles- Then their hands drop back to the table, and Alastor sinks back into his chair with a heavy sigh that dispels the last of the static lacing his voice, leaving behind the unaltered authenticity of his exasperation.

"...I don't know why I bother trying to keep anything from you."

"Me either, you know it doesn't work."

Alastor laughs, the sound rough in his throat as his head tilts back against the seat behind him. The combination of candlelight and the soft glow of his eyes casts long, shifting shadows across his face, darkening the shallow dips in their sockets and pushing in the lines between his brow even further; He looks so human despite his demonic form, so much so it's almost startling, and Clover has to stop herself from reaching up to rub her sleeves across her glasses just to make sure her eyes hadn't decided to play their tricks on her. Everything about him is honest in the most heartfelt of ways, from the way he continues to stroke the back of her hand to the optimism that suddenly brightens dark eyes, giving them that devious little spark that leaves her breathless.

"Nothing is wrong, it's- Quite the opposite, actually. I'm rather hopeful that I've finally gotten it right," He finally says, and his smile ticks up at one corner when Clover's ears twitch in confusion.

"Then why do you seem so nervous? It's just me, it's just us- Why won't you just tell me?"

Another sigh, another long look at her from over the top of his wine glass as he takes a final sip before it is set decidedly aside, and Alastor pushes back from the table.

"I had wanted to wait until after dessert to do this," Alastor is quickly on his feet, shifting her hand between his so he can pull out her chair. "But there's no point in waiting now, is there?"

Tempted by the offer of her curiosity being satisfied sooner than expected, Clover follows his lead without another thought, leaning forward to avoid the sloshing of her wine as she swallows back the last of it to wash away the anxious fluttering that filled her throat before she scrambles out of her seat. The candles flicker as they sweep past, burning low in their holders but refusing to be snuffed out, dripping wax onto the tablecloth that neither of them pays any mind to as Alastor's fingers tangle tighter with hers and he rushes them both from the room. He led her past the kitchen, past the open library doors, past the washroom where she'd scrubbed herself clean of blood and savored her first taste of his lips, until they stopped in front of a heavy wooden door left ajar.

The inside of Alastor's study is just as she'd expected it to be from the short glimpses she'd gotten in her spying, although much tidier than she remembered. Long shadows stretch across the room as they step inside, a flicker of green flame roaring to life in the fireplace before it shifts orange with a sputtering of cinders. She's surprised that it does not smell more heavily of tobacco, the toasted scent she'd expected nothing but a layer beneath his musk and the cedar he'd used to stoke his fire- Perhaps she'd remained nose blind to it after years of living with modern smokers or from spending so much time with Cyrus, but the odd sting of citrus in the mix made her think otherwise. An alligator's skeletal maw grins down at her from its place on the wall among the many other curiosities that decorated his study, and Clover finds her eye following its twisting tail down to the desk it was mounted above.

Alastor's fingers fiddle with the switch of an old lamp, its shade faded and fringed, before it flicks on with a spark that draws his desk from the darkened corner. He stops shy of it, turning to take her by the shoulders so he can place her at its outside edge; His hands are unsteady, trembling against her, and Clover wishes his radio would return so she could tell whether eagerness or trepidation was the cause. Alastor is adorably skittish as he steps behind his desk, reaching out to fix the quill that sat askew before pulling a set of keys from his pocket and opening one of the many drawers. He retrieves a rectangle of faded leather from within, his claws drumming against it as he slides the drawer closed with his knee and unwinds the red string fastening.

He straightens the stack of papers he pulls from within between his palms, dark eyes darting over their contents one last time as he sets them down on the desk between them.

"I realized that my prior pitches were- Woefully lacking," That wobble to his smile is back as he turns to her and offers his hand; Clover can feel the buzz of static begging to be set free, his palm clammy against hers as he leads her around his desk to stand beside him. The papers shift beneath his fingers as he taps the bottom corner of the stack, but he doesn't bother to fix them and instead gestures to them with an open palm. "This is only the latest of many revisions. Compromise is not out of the question- Say the word and any clause can be rewritten or removed- Say no, and it will go right back into the drawer, where the offer shall stand for eternity, ready for your consideration."

Alastor's gaze finally pulls itself from the pages, turning to watch as recognition flickers in her eyes like flame.

"Another contract?"

"This isn't a traditional contact, per se. Think of it as… A partnership," Alastor paused at the tiny, awed noise Clover didn't mean to make, waiting patiently to see if the hitch in breath meant she'd wanted to respond- But she'd promised to listen not so long ago, so she stayed quiet, and he continued. "In a perfect world, both of our souls would be of equal value to the bargain, but sadly that is out of my hands at the moment."

Clover blinked at him, her brow furrowing as she watched the confidence he'd gathered so far crack with a grinding of teeth. Static stuttered his breath for a second, breaking through the hold he'd had on his radio, and the heaviness that had been gathering in her lungs suddenly switched to grip at her heart, dragging it down into her stomach as what he'd hastily scrawled between the lines became clear.

"...Alastor, do you not-?"

The question hangs between them, its open end snapping shut at the tiny tick that sets his jaw.

"I will explain everything, Clover, I swear. If that is something you wish to discuss before moving forward then-"

"No, I believe you."

Clover quickly cut him off before he could truly crumble, that fast-paced pattern he'd taken on as he'd rushed to soothe worries that did not exist sputtering out with a peal of radio interference. The gentle squeeze she gave him was returned twofold, Alastor's hand clasped tightly in hers while he waited out her pondering. Her trust in him was not so brittle that it would crumble under the weight of this new knowledge; As shocking as it was, the way Alastor had discussed the logistics of deal-making had always made her think that he'd had a more rounded experience with it than he'd let on. Whether that knowledge had been found in life or death was the true mystery to her, but she believed him, without a shadow of a doubt, when he said he would cure that curiosity and give her the clarity she'd not yet taken for herself-

But that wasn't what she needed from him, not yet, not when there were more pressing questions left unanswered.

"Why are you so stuck on there being a contract between us? Why is us being together, and everything that comes with that, not enough?"

"Because being without you is the only damnation I've found myself unable to bear the thought of," His hands are warm as they cradle her face, turning her gaze away from the contract that lay before them. "Be mine, truly mine, bound in heart, body, and soul, and I can give you everything. Allow me to use all that I am to shoulder the burden eternity has placed on your soul, to protect you from Hell's horrors- This is that vow, in its most binding form, and I know it is far less than you deserve but it is what I am free to give you now."

Alastor's voice is so clear, so warm even as he paused to clear his throat of the cracking that had turned his tender tenor into a more timid timbre. She'd heard him speak in earnest before, but it was nothing compared to this; There was a longing to his eyes, something she'd dare call desperation if not for the sincere sweetness that softened its edge. The muted tones of his skin waver and bend beneath her fingertips as Clover reaches out to him, drawn to the ring of honey that had barely begun to peek out from around blown pupils and too caught up in the honesty she saw in it to realize she'd moved at all- Alastor blinks at the contact, his eyes falling closed at the gentle swipe of her thumb over the crease he'd pushed between his brows, and leans into her touch. His confidence thins with every passing second he spends shackled to the sweetness of her eyes, her expression an enigma of emotion that he does not deserve; It is attentive, apprehensive, yet dripping with adoration as she watches him rip open old wounds with words that the shadows of his past would have never dared speak aloud and gazes longingly into the rotten gore it reveals.

No matter how hard he may try to hide behind his slowly slipping smile, she will see him as he is, poking holes in the carefully woven facade that had served him well for so many decades yet grown threadbare within mere months of meeting her.

And Alastor loves her all the more, not despite it, but because of it.

Crimson bleeds into chocolate as he looks at her, soft and longing beneath lowed lids as he turns to press a kiss to her wrist. His quivering breath trails across her tender flesh, coating it with silent static that sparks between them as Alastor takes her hand in his; The heat of him simmers against her skin as he clutches it to his chest and drops his chin to kiss her knuckles, tracing each hill and valley with a barely-there press of his lips. Those wonderfully dainty little fingers tangle themselves tighter with his, twisting into the bloodied threads she'd used to stitch his heart back into place and tethering him to the present.

Fingers twitch, tempted to dig in their claws as he draws her closer- They seek to further fill the spaces between her fingers and press into the racing of her pulse, its rhythm a rolling drum drawing out the eternity it takes him to gather himself, and Alastor curses how foolish he was being, lingering on what is or was when what could be- What will be- pressed herself back into his embrace, waiting patiently for him to finish just as she'd promised after his first futile, fumbling attempt at this offer. His eyes drop to the contract, to the careful cursive he'd rewritten time and time again, his ironclad ink seeping into the wooden top of his desk as he fought to perfect his proposition, and he hopes she will understand;

That she will give him a chance to show her how precious she truly is, in his own way.

When he looks at her again, her brow is furrowed in that adorably curious way that compels him to press a kiss between them; Her skin is so warm beneath his lips, still flushed from the wine despite the sharp sobriety that follows his every move. Clover is stone, stuck staring at the hopeful flicking of Alastor's eyes as they fall across her face, and if they'd not been able to feel the shuddering rise and fall they'd wonder if the other still breathed.

"Please do not think that I am not satisfied with things as they are, for I am, but you are owed so much more than my word is worth. If you still wish to remain unchained after hearing my offer, I will understand- Believe me, Clover, I will understand," Alastor chokes on his vulnerability, leaning forward to bump his forehead with hers as he collects himself. "All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove that this is so much more than a simple deal of souls."

The radio returns in the silence that follows his final words, its wavering static following the ebb and flow of breath that blows across her lips; It fizzles as she untangles herself from him, frantically switching stations until the noise fuses into a garbled wail of chaos that throbs against her tender ears. Alastor's claws curl into the emptiness she leaves behind, distress widening dark eyes as he reaches out for her and softly calls her name- It all goes still at the raise of her hand, allowing her the space to think.

His desk chair creaks as she rolls it between them, the leather cool against the backs of her legs as Clover takes a seat.

From the corner of her eye, she catches Alastor as he crumbles, gripping into the back of the chair to keep from doubling over as relief knocks the wind from his lungs. Through the spiking static, she swears she hears him breathe his thanks before he retreats to the shadows sitting heavily in the corner of his study, leaving her to look over his offer without further interference.

Clover picks up the small stack of papers, knocks it against his desk to straighten the edges, and begins to read.

POSSESSOR I.

I, the undersigned soul bearer, declaring myself of sound mind and body despite all and any evidence to the contrary, hereby pledge my immortal soul to the undersigned Overseer, for him to have and to hold for eternity, or until that time at which I wish to regain rightful ownership. In return I understand that I am entitled but not limited to;

All powers of protection he possesses or will come to possess within the passage of time,

Any and all monetary sums suitable for providing aid for matters of the home, leisure, or vanity,

A place in any and all property belonging to his name, and any other amenities to aid in the guarantee of eternal happiness,

Council on all matters, including but not limited to, matters of security, companionship, and the heart,

Affection, by any means acceptable as decided by the interested parties (See Addendum I. "Prior Bargains")

His patience, no matter how I may test it,

His utmost respect, devotion, and understanding,

The truth on all matters when asked for; The Overseer may not lie or withhold information pertaining but not limited to,

The well being of the aforementioned soul bearer, and her loved ones,

Political changes of importance,

Decisions made under the guise of protection, misguided or otherwise,

Feelings of discomfort, upset, anger, or any emotions otherwise deemed negative in nature,

IX. All the freedoms of an unchained soul, as well as those given by my newfound status and those offered by his protection,

X. Future possession of the Overseers soul, on that day it is freed from it's bindings, so that it may join his heart in its rightful place,

XI_XXIV_MMXXIII _

OVERSEER I.

I, the undersigned Soul Overseer, declare this contract to be binding for all eternity, or until that day at which the Soul Bearer should declare otherwise. In exchange for the unholy honor of holding this soul, I ask only for the following;

The sacrifice of her time, whenever she is willing. Acceptable methods include but are not limited to;

The occasional glimpse of her smile,

A dance, in the venue of her choosing,

A drink, and the conversation that comes with it,

A warm cup of coffee, made by her hand,

A duet, or any other chance to hear her lovely voice,

Affection, by any means acceptable as decided by the interested parties, (See Addendum I. "Prior Bargains")

Strict confidence on all matters spoken of in private, unless agreed upon otherwise,

That any and all concerns will be brought to light at her earliest convenience, but before any feeling of contempt may fester,

Her solemn promise not to undertake any actions that may place her at risk without prior discussion; Examples of such actions include but are not limited to,

Extended time spent in areas of endangerment(See Addendum II; "Overlord Territories and their Inhabitants")

Accessing the pocket dimensions, created by the Overseer or otherwise, without escort or admission. (See Addendum III, "Access Points and Gateways")

Acceptance of any and all gifts given by the Overseer- Protest may be permitted, for the Overseer finds it adorable,

A place in her heart, passion permitting,

In the event of the untimely demise of the Overseer, the soul ownership shall default directly to the Soul Bearer.

XI_XXIV_MMXXIII _

Clover reads the final paragraph again and again, tracing the divots his pen had left behind and wishing the ink would sink into her skin so she could carry the words with her for the rest of eternity. Every line written feels like an act of devotion, the cursive curling around her like an embrace; She can only imagine how many drafts had been tossed into the wastebasket, or how many hours were spent in this very seat, searching for the right words and drowning his worries in glasses of Rye.

The contract is not what she'd expected it to be, having prepared herself to struggle through legal jargon or argue against some of Alastor's more stubborn stipulations but this- This is far more than an offer of protection as he'd originally proposed, yet it is exactly as he'd described; A partnership, fair and equal in all ways but one.

Warmth bleeds into every fiber of her being, pushing back the nervous chill he'd passed onto her with his endless pacing and pooling in the corners of her vision. Clover's eyes jump back to the beginning, squinting through the fuzziness that fills them until she finds what she's looking for.

"Future possession of the Overseers soul, on that day it is freed from its bindings, so that it may join his heart in its rightful place,"

What had she done to deserve something so thoughtful, so selfless from a man such as him? Clover wonders as she reads it all again, flipping the pages to read the addendums; One of them lays out the very deal that had started it all, the words almost exactly as she had said them but with his additional clarification noted beneath. The page's second point addresses the change to the prior bargain and the new, more forgiving parameters, its phrasing so clinical it almost makes her laugh; She stifles the soft sob that comes out instead with the palm of her hand. Clover carefully sets the contract aside, afraid of bleeding the ink as her sentimentalism spills over and wiping it from her cheeks with shaking fingers-

And then she spies the sole photograph sitting atop his desk.

The white border of the polaroid picture looks so out of place beside the brass lamp and pen with its pot of ink, contradicting the tarnished frame with its modern subject. Now that she's seeing it again, here and now, Clover almost agrees with Alastor's initial assessment- It was a rather flattering self-portrait, despite the honesty of her appearance. The odd shape of the photograph makes her wonder how he managed to find such a small, square picture frame to put it in and the longer she thinks about it, the harder it is to hold back her tears. She curls into herself, overwhelmed by everything he offered and all that had led them to this point, and buries her face into her hands as she begins to cry.

Clover doesn't look up at the soft steps that stop their pacing, nor their quick approach. The chair tips under the weight of his palm as Alastor swivels it away from the desk, his fingers gently curling around her wrists and prying away the hands that hide her from him. Through the squint of her eyes that she keeps trained to the floor she can see the tip of his shoe against the carpet, its red toe warped by welling tears that continue to roll down her cheeks- They're wiped away with a gentle swipe of his thumb, tenderly tracing her lashes to catch every drop before he tucks his fingers beneath her chin and tilts her face up to him.

"That wasn't my intention," He says as he brushes back her hair from where it had stuck to the damp trails decorating her cheeks.

Her laughter is broken by another soft sob, Clover trying her best to breathe as she wipes her face with her sleeves. Her vision clears with every blink, pulling the misty blur of red in front of her into better focus until Alastor comes into view- And once again, Clover mourns that she will never be able to capture this moment on film.

Alastor is on one knee, eyes wide and worried as he dutifully awaits her answer.

And Clover doesn't have to think twice.

"Where do I sign?"