The next morning, Vaggie was welcomed back into their shared room with a miserable hug and a million apologies.

"I wasn't thinking," Vaggie admitted. "I know it was wrong of me to do that, I know how you feel about trust. I'm sorry I don't trust Alastor. It's hard, you know?"

"I know, Vaggie," Charlie sighed. "But what can I even do at this point to make you feel otherwise? I feel like you'll never trust him, but I don't see him leaving this hotel anytime soon."

"I'll have to learn to trust him and I'll do my best, okay? I won't jump to the worst conclusion anymore, I promise." The gray angel gave her a sad smile, trying to be as reassuring as possible. She reached for her girlfriend's hands and squeezed. "I love you, hon."

"I love you too. You used to be the one calming me down, remember?"

Vaggie chuckled, "I do. I've been a wreck lately, I know. But not anymore. I'll keep myself in check. I want this hotel to work, same as you."

"Today's a big day, I'll be working with Alastor to vet and start inviting sinners to the hotel. Will you be alright with that?"

Vaggie nodded. "Better than alright. What do you need me to do?"

"Can you start prepping rooms with Niffty? Figure out arrangements that would work best with the new layout?"

Her red ribbon bounced up and down eagerly. "Will do, hon."

Charlie's smile was sincere, but a little guarded. "Thank you," she said, looking into her partner's face for any signs of apprehension.

Her single eye slid sideways for a moment and landed on the bundle by the window. The blood red flowers shone in the morning light.

"Where did those come from?" Vaggie found herself asking.

"Oh," Charlie swallowed. "Al… and Rosie from Cannibal Town got them for me."

"What's the occasion?"

"Um, congratulations on the opening!" Charlie spoke, voice rising. She didn't like this line of questioning, feeling her partner's arms tense minutely at the mention of a certain someone's nickname.

Slowly, she relaxed and exhaled. "They're lovely, hon. You deserve them," said Vaggie. And Charlie released the breath she had been holding, relaxing into another embrace.

Turning swiftly back towards the door, Vaggie bid farewell before she lost any more of her cool again. This was not going to be easy. She wished her luck and sprinted down the hall, as far away from those despicable red roses as possible.

…

Charlie made her way straight to her office. It was built anew with her business partner in mind and the pair agreed to meet there in the morning.

Knocking on the solid wood, the door opened instantly to a grinning Alastor, already having made himself comfortable. Coffee mug in hand, he swept open the door and welcomed her inside.

"No need to knock, dearest, this is your office too after all."

"I know, I just wouldn't want to catch you… unawares is all." She moved towards his side of the room, admiring his neat organization.

"Oh-ho, afraid of what you might find?" His smile curled.

"I have no idea what I might find anymore," Charlie sighed, but not unhappily. She would have to focus today, on the work at hand. And joking with Alastor always made things a little… difficult, she realized. They were already off to a bumpy start. He was already joking around, making her want to join in and forget everything else they needed to do. She just wanted to talk to him, about whatever, about everything. She wanted to ask him about his wound, noticing she hadn't heard word of it in a while. Was it the same?

The Radio Demon gestured toward the shared table in the middle of the room. There was a set-up for breakfast in the middle. "I had Niffty bring us up a bite," he emphasized with a flash of teeth.

Charlie's heart soared but she quashed it as soon as it began. "Thanks Al!" she called and began to help herself. She was probably just hungry.

The pair sat in silence as the demoness cooly buttered up some toast, avoiding eye-contact with the demon across from her. She could tell he was staring, as he was wont to do, and she didn't wish to give him the satisfaction of even entertaining his gaze.

Reaching for her papers, Charlie immediately got to business, one hand cradling a piece of bread.

"Were you able to get started reading any of the applications?" Charlie asked between a mouthful of crumbs.

"The irredeemable ingrates, hmm? You choose who you like and I'll be glad to watch them all fumble," Alastor sneered through a sip of coffee.

"C'mon Al! Your opinion matters. I waited specifically so you could look!"

Alastor easily relented, not able to turn down the hotelier much these days. "Fine," he quipped. "Shawshank the loveable oaf seems ripe for the picking. His sins are minimal. But I would avoid Splitsana."

"Why's that?"

"Her name is Splitsana…"

Charlie stifled a laugh. "I like her! She's a dancer too, you know? I think she'd get along well with Angel."

"You like them all, dear."

"Is that so wrong? I think everyone deserves a chance."

Alastor nodded, having heard this line of thinking before. "Not wrong, but it helps to be a little discriminatory where it matters. Like, Lorenzo for example, definitely a Vox spy. And Cherise, I believe she's one of Angel's ardent fans. I doubt she is genuine about being redeemed as she often stalks the poor fellow."

"Wow," said Charlie in mild awe. "I didn't know you paid this much attention."

"There is much you don't know about me, darling," he grinned, the pair finally making eye-contact.

Charlie dropped her gaze immediately and grabbed another paper. "What about Pete? He wrote here that he is in Hell due to "an unfortunate accident".

"If by unfortunate accident, he means also poisoning himself after poisoning his entire Lacrosse team."

They continued like this for a while. Charlie presented their case and Alastor provided what he knew of them and what he had gathered. He didn't just stand aside during the party it turned out. But he observed, listened, and had his shadow minions do a little digging. He valued who lived within these walls much more than Charlie expected. She watched him carefully as he spoke, the static lilt of his voice moving between humored and serious. She admired that about him, his ability to do so much and make it seem like so little. What was she doing during the party?

When the applicants were split into two short piles, Charlie got to sending out invitations. She hoped beyond hope that their invitations would be heeded. They would meet, get themselves comfortable, and then the redemption would begin!

Charlie bounced in her seat as she signed each letter with a flourish, still disbelieving that her dream was slowly but surely happening. Alastor watched her from a distance, an amused twinkle in his eye. This is exactly what he wanted to see.

When all that was done, Alastor summoned Niffty and asked her to mail the letters as soon as possible.

"Oh Al, it's really happening! Thank you so, so much for all your hard work!"

He summoned up a new set of tea and coffee. "It was all your doing, dear."

Things felt relaxed between them, and very cordial and business-like. But it was almost too normal, too quiet. Charlie squirmed in her seat with the desire to talk about something non-work related as she sipped her own cup.

She made it through the whole morning without getting distracted. And Alastor too, seemed to hone in on her hard-working attitude, mimicking her dedication.

"Al…" Charlie began, looking over her cup.

"Yes, chérie?" He hummed.

The blonde subtly jumped at the affectionate term, having never been called that before. Though he often used terms of endearment, it was rare for him to speak his other tongue, if ever.

"Um," she stumbled. "Can I ask how the… you-know-what is doing?"

"You may ask, but I cannot promise an answer!" He sipped with serene closed eyes.

"Has anything changed since I last saw it?" Charlie asked, now serious. She placed her cup back down on the table, its ceramic tinkle a footnote to her voice.

The red demon's eyes opened, glowing and tense. "Shall I show you?" he asked, his voice dripping in static.

The demoness merely nodded, letting Alastor take the lead. He was prepared to receive help from her, and he was acting of his own will.

He stood from his chair and made his way to the office door, locking it with a flick of his wrist. Any other time, Charlie might have reacted with alarm, but she understood the secrecy of his mark, and how much he was trusting her by showing it at all.

Though that didn't stop her from fidgeting anyway.

The Radio Demon began to loosen his tie and unbutton his coat. He'd been opting for a coatless existence lately but he was wearing it today, feeling that he could without too much issue.

Once his coat was folded to the side, he leisurely undid his dress shirt.

Charlie could not take her eyes off of him and this amused him greatly. He moved wickedly slow, enjoying the look on the demoness's face as she tried and failed to keep a neutral expression.

As Alastor was enjoying his little game, for the first time, Charlie noticed his skin around the mark itself. It was scarred with fine lines, marked with ancient wounds of another era. His alabaster skin was blackened in the odd place, freckled in others. He was thin, much like her, but sinewy with untold strength. He lived a whole other life with this body, one Charlie had little knowledge of. And one she felt she may never learn about.

But that thought didn't bother her right now, because now his entire chest was revealed, and with it the rest of his Mark of Judgment.

The demoness gasped, her slender hands covering her mouth as her eyes roamed over the sickening, twisted stain. It had grown in size, now stretching towards his stomach.

"Why…" she began in horror, "Did it grow so much? It hasn't been that long!"

Alastor only shrugged. "It changes on a whim. It moves when I am angry, it moves when I am bored. Whatever triggers it is anyones' guess."

"We should track it," Charlie said, running to get a piece of paper from her desk. "Measure it and see what causes it to change and when. Maybe that way we can calculate how much time you…" Her voice trailed off, not even wanting to entertain the rest of that thought.

"Not a bad idea," Alastor mused, thinking briefly to himself. "It is not a linear growth, that can be certain. Right after my run-in with Adam, the wound barely did much at all. Only when I became active again did it start changing."

"Okay," Charlie began, pressing a fist into her palm. "That's a good start. We can look at it daily and see what happened that day that may have caused it to change."

"You want to see me without clothes that badly? All you have to do is ask."

"Focus, Al!" Charlie stomped her hoof and waved a piece of paper around, ignoring the sprouting heat on her cheeks. "Maybe by controlling your actions in some way, you can control the Mark itself!"

"Fair enough," the deer demon relented, "But if controlling my actions means lying in rubble for the rest of my days, I'd rather be taken."

"Don't say that," Charlie said softly. She took a seat back in her chair. Her paper now swapped for a bound notebook, she started her log. Dating it from the moment Alastor was struck, to now. She described its placement, its shape and size. What it looked like the last time she saw it. The way it moved, looked, and smelled.

The Radio Demon watched her in silence. Seeing how earnestly she took notes, how seriously she took his plight, and how grave her demeanor, it caused a swell of gratitude within him. She really was dedicated… and she really did care for him.

He tried to let that notion wash over him without panic but his mark chose to react instead. It shifted and spun like a whirlpool. It didn't grow in size but its movements were frantic and abrupt. As if it reacted to his own pounding heart.

Charlie, of course, noticed and took blistering notes. "Why did it do that?" she called, with an urgency in her voice. "It moved so suddenly! Did something happen?"

Alastor fought the urge to cover his chest back up, as if that would hide his inner self. "It does that sometimes… when I'm thinking."

"So it reacts to your thoughts? It's connected to you internally somehow…" Charlie began jotting down more notes, the sound of her scratching pen permeating the din of the office. "What were you thinking about?" she asked, expectantly.

Alastor wondered briefly if he ought to lie, not wanting to ever share the subject of his private ponderings. But as he watched her, so dedicated to unraveling the mystery of this phenomenon, he felt it would dishonor her commitment to be untruthful.
"I was thinking about you," he said as plainly as he could.

"Be serious, Al!"

Alastor merely shook his head. "That is the truth, my darling."

"Oh," the demoness said, burying her face back in her notebook.

…

Some time passed and Charlie was feeling good about the current plan of action. Alastor revealed as many details as he could about his ongoing activities for the last several days. He didn't pay extreme attention to its movements, but he could describe what he was doing when the Mark did decide to make itself known. He talked about how it hurt when he used too much of his powers, how it sometimes reacted to his own emotions, how tired he sometimes was and how it stole the breath right out of him. He even mentioned the time right after their last argument, how the stain sought to choke him in an angry mist.

Charlie detailed this all in her notebook, thinking for a moment of that last conversation. How bitter the Radio Demon had turned in a matter of seconds. Did the Mark affect him as much as he affected it? The pair set aside time to analyze it further in the future, planning to meet and discuss nightly. Though the two of them weren't scientists by any stretch of the imagination, they'd do their damndest to gather what data they could. Though at the moment the information they had was riddled with holes and convoluted at best.

The demoness was busy piecing together the current ideas she had when there came a knock at the door and subsequent jiggling of the handle. The door was still locked.

"Al!" Charlie hissed, gesturing at the red demon to hurry up and put his clothes back on. He rolled his eyes with a smile, slowly re-buttoning his outfit.

"Charlie?" came Vaggie's concerned voice. The door shook again. "Why's the door locked, are you okay?"

"One moment!" Charlie sang, stashing her notebook in her desk drawer and resisting the urge to help Alastor dress.

She gripped the door handle as soon as Alastor was decent and swung it open. Vaggie's lone eye immediately swiveled around the room, looking for signs of trouble. It landed predictably on Alastor's still form. His hands behind his back, always looking a little suspicious no matter what he was doing. She noticed his bowtie draped over the chair and her single eye narrowed.

"Vaggie! How is room arrangement going?" Charlie asked, attempting to gain the former angel's attention.

Her stare never left Alastor's grinning face. "Fine…" she began. "Why were you two locked in here?"

"O-oh, I didn't realize! It must have locked on its own earlier. Alastor and I were just finishing up!" The blonde tried to corral her girlfriend out the door.

Vaggie grunted but knew not to start another argument, especially in the presence of the subject of said argument. She let herself be pushed out and Charlie followed.

Waving a hasty goodbye to the Radio Demon, the demoness disappeared behind the shutting door with an audible slam.

"Hmph," said Alastor at their sudden departure. Vagatha sure had it out for him. It didn't cause him joy to be the reason for their oft occurring disagreements, but it's not like he asked Charlie to ever defend his honor. Then again, he also did nothing to reassure the gray angel either. He liked to poke buttons and rile people up, it was what he was good at. Charlie being his favorite target as of late.

In the quiet of the office, Alastor made for Charlie's desk and retrieved her notebook with the hastily scribbled notations on the current situation. He flipped through the pages, making mental observations on any point that stood out to him. Everytime she made an indication that the Mark reacted to something having to do with the Princess of Hell, Charlie had written 'Me(?)' in her curly script.

How curious, he thought. He had never noticed how often his own thoughts and emotions centered around the demoness. They were in each others' company often enough, sure, but it was like she was around even when she wasn't.

"Hmph," he said again, noticing not for the first time that his thoughts were once more drifting to his business partner. He flipped through more of the pages until he got to one where she had doodled him in order to indicate visually where the Mark lay on his person.

The doodle was crude and charming, as her drawings often were. Alastor smiled at it, running his claws over the silly smile she drew on him.

As if on cue, the black pit on his chest began to shiver, reacting once more to whatever Alastor was currently feeling. The demon in question grimaced at the sensation, disliking more and more what the implications of its movement could mean.

He tucked the notebook away in his coat for safekeeping and disappeared in a blink of dark.

...

AN: And so it begins! The true scrutinizing and theorizing around the Mark and what it is capable of! Mystery abounds! Lol finally we're getting to some juice. Some back and forth, some intrigue, more pissed off Vaggie lol. The two of them working together to figure things out. Oh and the beginning of the hotel guests LOL I'm terrible at inventing OCs so we'll see how that goes. This story is all about Charlie and Alastor anyway!

Thanks for reading!