From across the way, Rosie was engaged with Lucifer in a raucous debate about the future of demonkind as well as dropping subtle hints about the expansion of Cannibal Town. She was quite taken with the tiny King of Hell. The cannibal found him delightfully delectable… in more ways than one.

But she was a bit distracted, her gaze often drifting to the red demon near her side. He wasn't paying a lick of attention to their conversation, but instead was staring across the way to where the party had continued at the bar.

Rosie would suggest he go on and join them, but she knew that something stopped him. He was feeling contrite about an incident that he wouldn't disclose, and his frantic demeanor earlier that morning was enough to startle the Overlord into action. Drinks and dishing over teacakes told her only so much, however.

Alastor felt undeserving and would choose to deprive himself. A silly way to go about it, when usually the Radio Demon would be keen to take whatever it is that he wanted without a second thought. But to purposefully step back, despite this inner want? What a puzzle! He was always a steadfast old fiend, so this sudden bundle of nerves was unrecognizable.

And so now she was here, at the Hazbin Hotel, watching her old friend while he watched the princess.

Charlie smiled and clinked her glass against her companions'. A green-shaded demon by her side said something in her ear and she laughed, a joyful sound.

Alastor's claws folded into fists, his lip curling above a canine.

Lucifer bid her a farewell for now and with one last suspicious glance at Alastor, Lucifer went to join his daughter.

Rosie placed a gentle palm onto Alastor's shoulder. He twitched at the touch. "Sweetheart, you look like you're about to burst," she said, turning him to face her. "Or about to maul someone. What's got your feathers so ruffled?"

Alastor's wound was pounding, but he disregarded it with a fierce will, forcing himself to face his friend. "What I wouldn't give to maul someone right now," he smiled, relaxing his hands.

"Well, what's stopping you?" said Rosie, conspiratorially. "I haven't heard any latest gossip amongst the townsfolk about you wreaking havoc around the city!"

The deer demon sighed, wearily. "That's because I haven't. I haven't made any deals, nor gained any territory. Nothing."

Rosie's black eyes widened. "My word! Are you sick?" She lifted a hand and felt his forehead for a fever.

Alastor looked at her then, an expression on his face conveying an inner gloom that he might only express to his old friend. "I never fully recovered after the battle against Adam," he admitted after a moment. It was about time he told her, even if it was only a half truth.

"Oh dear, I knew it! You haven't seemed at all like your plucky self since then!" Rosie took up both his hands. "What can be done?"

Alastor shrugged, a resignation to his shoulders. "I've tried many things with little result. I worry the day will come that others will catch wind and make an attempt on this place and all that I've built. I doubt I'll be able to fight to my fullest."

"What took you so long to tell me? You know the folks of Cannibal Town are at your beck and call!"

Alastor shook his head, appreciative. "I apologize, my dear. I foolishly kept this information to myself until it was far too late. Though Charlie has done her best to assist me."

"Charlie has?" Rosie looked across the room towards the woman in question and saw that she was already staring at them. Charlie quickly looked away. "How're you two? It seems a little chilly between you."

"We are…" the Radio Demon searched his mind for an answer. He debated with honesty but also found himself blanking on any particular term to accurately describe their current relationship. "Just dandy," he went with.

Rosie raised an eye at the clear-spoken Alastor suddenly switching to coyness. But she didn't press. Her instincts were always right on the money.

"Well! I'm glad you have someone like her on your side. She will be a powerful contender one of these days. And that Lucifer! He's a lot more delightful than you made him out to be," she smiled, attempting to lighten the mood.

He smiled at her in return, grateful for her friendship. There was still so much Alastor was clearly hiding, but it was a step in the right direction, he thought. If worse comes to worst, he knew that besides Charlie, Rosie would understand his predicament and may even come to defend him. Zestial knew as well, but the ancient demon wasn't known for his acts of heroism.

And that was only one thing out of the way, while several more continued to weigh on his mind. The most pressing one barely feet away. Alastor glanced at her then, seeing once more the way she huddled against that snake-like savage. There was something about him that irked the deer demon, and it wasn't just the way he closed in on Charlie. He seemed scrupulous but in such a contrived way as to be mildly suspicious. Obviously his connection to Vox was enough, but there was something even more bothersome that Alastor couldn't place…

Rosie suddenly put her arm through his and offered some more words of support. He was grateful for a friend at this moment, as he continued to poke holes in the one other connection he had. The one that scared him.

"Now about this Charlie business…" Rosie began, her tone serious. She was far too perceptive.

The rain was thunderous as it slapped against the windows. The sky outside darker than it usually would be at this hour. They haven't had a storm in Hell like this in ages. Thankfully, none of them really had anywhere to be, the rainy atmosphere lending with it a sort of cozy camaraderie in the lobby. The fireplace was lit, and the guests mingled about, buzzed and chatty.

Charlie hasn't seen Rosie and Alastor interact since before the extermination and was mesmerized by what she was seeing, her mind too focused on other issues in the past to notice something so trivial.

They whispered to one another, heads bowed, constant touching, shared glances, supportive arms around. She thought the two of them looked rather… fitting for one another. Similar roles in Hell. Old friends. Both powerful. Both striking in looks…

"Er–" Charlie stopped her thinking out loud, putting her palm against her forehead. This damn sugary alcohol…

She played with the idea of them further, almost in a masochistic sort of way. He treated Rosie much like he treated most other women, a secret tenderness behind every movement. But it seemed amplified with the Overlord, easier and effortless. He didn't even think about it, he just did, and Rosie returned in kind.

Charlie swallowed a lump that traveled straight into her gut, leaving behind a scratchy, raw throat. She felt like she wanted to cry.

But no tears, not right now. Seviathan was having what she hoped was a blast right at her side as the crew engaged in drinking games. Even her dad was enjoying himself, sitting at the bar as Husk showed him a magic trick.

Charlie and Seviathan fell right back into their old connection like no time had passed at all, to her surprise. Only now she was far more mature and (somewhat) secure in herself. She did feel a little transported back to her Hell School days around him, however. This childish need to impress the man and his demanding family.

Sev got along well with everyone. No in-fighting or threats of violence. He was sweet, if not a little oblivious sometimes. And his royal power was not enough to elicit any fear amongst the guests. Even Husk didn't mind him, despite his typical attitude. Angel found him enticing, and Niffty had an absolute crush. Her dad loved him already too!

He would make an excellent addition to their little hotel family, she thought. He's far more agreeable and less confusing than Alastor is. And Vaggie was, she recalled with regret. Maybe in time, Seviathan and her could…

The serpentine man snaked an arm around her waist, already a few drinks deep. He pulled her to his side and cooed into her ear, "Having fun, snake Charmer?" He brought out his full nickname for her.

"Heh," she laughed awkwardly, embarrassed by the old moniker, and not to mention unused to his intimate touch. His breath smelled of whiskey. "I should be asking you that!"

"Room for one more?" said a harsh yet silky voice behind them.

Alastor inserted himself directly between the former flames, the snake demon flinging back in surprise.

"Al," started Charlie, her throat caught. One second he was kissing her finger and the next he was whispering with another woman. She was beginning to dread whatever was looming over the horizon when it came to the Radio Demon.

"A whiskey over here, good chum!" called Alastor to Husk who begrudgingly prepared one for him.

"Excuse me," slurred Seviathan, one of his eyes lidded. His hat was tipped and his teeth shone. He didn't look angry, but amused by the interruption.

"You're excused," replied Alastor calmly. He accepted his drink and sipped it, turning his back on Sev, to face Charlie. "My darling, pardon me for interrupting the– no doubt– dazzling conversation you were having. But may I speak with you?"

"Umm, what about?"

"It's about you-know-what," he said, his voice tinged with urgency, rolling his eyes at the familiar nomenclature.

A sense of foreboding washed over her. If Alastor was approaching her about the Mark, then it must be serious.

Seviathan began to complain from behind, but Alastor moved more in front of him until Charlie's vision of the fish demon was completely obstructed.

She nodded reluctantly, still reeling from the sudden shift in energy. She shot Seviathan an apologetic look and followed Alastor to some secluded corner of the lobby.

"What is it, Alastor?" she asked in a grave whisper, once their voices couldn't be overheard.

"Oh, nothing," the deer demon waved a claw, "just thought to rescue you from that irksome imp."

"Excuse me…?" Charlie's jaw dropped, gobsmacked. "Al! You really scared me! I thought it was serious!"

He laughed, without humor. "Getting you away from him is serious, dear. Or were you truly enjoying his company?"

She couldn't believe him. "I don't need you to do that! And you were just fine with Rosie a moment ago! Why should I need you to come and save me from Sev?" Confusing, fickle, and so difficult!

Her reaction caught him off-guard. Her response was more indignant than the playfulness he was intending. "I only meant as a jest–"

She continued, her hands in balled fists. "It's not funny! Everything is a joke to you! Even my own feelings!" Charlie shook her head and walked away from him. She was too blinded with frustration to even look at the damnable demon right now. She returned to the group, leaving behind a stumped Alastor.

Every decision he made lately was the wrong one and he couldn't even blame the Mark this time.

"What the devil did you say to the girl?" asked Rosie after Alastor returned to her, sour-faced.

A bit of a miscalculation on her part, thought Rosie. She encouraged Alastor to go give her some much wanted attention but she didn't realize what he would do to achieve that. It had backfired spectacularly. Charlie was now being taught a drinking card game, courtesy of Husk, Cherri, and Angel, with Seviathan by her side.

'King's Cup' it was called, she believed. These drinking games weren't quite her style, a bit over the fanciful days of her so-called youth. She did engage in a bit of drunken sport now and then but it had been quite a while since her last. She cradled her blood-colored cocktail.

Alastor was stewing, sipping a whiskey. He occasionally felt at his neck or wrist and Rosie wondered if he was in pain. Physical or emotional, she could not be sure. He didn't answer her question and merely grunted.

"Smiles!" called Cherri, unaware of any swimming awkwardness. She waved her hand. "Come play! And bring your pretty mate there!"

Rosie turned to him then, begging. "My dear, this is hard to watch! Take a break from your fretting and at least try to join in on the festivities!"

Alastor might scowl if he was so inclined but instead his smile deepened. "I would rather rot."

"At this rate you surely shall and your dear Charlie will leave you for the worms!" Rosie chided with an unsympathetic look.

"Someone is playing hard-ball!" Alastor scoffed, then sighed. "I am taking you with me."

"But I don't know the rules!"

"It's simple. Cup in the middle, eh? Each turn, someone draws a card. Whatever you get determines what the group does. They each have their own rules," re-explained Cherri once they slowly migrated over to the table. "Two is 'you,' choose someone. Three is 'me', you drink. Four is whores. Five is drive, Six is dicks, Seven is Heaven…"

Charlie was refusing eye-contact with the deer demon but it was hard to miss her affected expression as he moved to join the game.

Some of the more observant players could sense the mild turbulence in the air, Lucifer included. He raised a brow, his mouth forming a thin line.

Seviathan was too distracted by Niffty clinging to his arm to be concerned.

Alastor knew he couldn't speak with the princess at this time, so he'd settle for some good old fashioned "getting along" with the others and "participating." Surely she'd appreciate that.

"If you get a King, you pour some of your booze into the King's cup and you can make a rule that everyone must follow. But once the final King is pulled, you hafta drink it all!"

"How vile!" commented Ama from the back of the group. She stood next to the ever-silent Tai and the huffy Sylvie. They watched more out of curiosity than anything and opted out of playing, preferring to pick at the provided food and drink.

"Depends on what everyone else is drinking," shrugged Husk.

"This is my kind of game," said Pete, licking his chomps.

"Christ, what is that?" asked Angel, eyeing the green liquid of his glass. "You ain't playin'!"

"I'll start us off right!" said Cherri. She drew an eight. "That's mate, so Angie, you drinkin' with me!"

"I'm not remotely surprised, doll."

Husk went next, drawing a six. "Dicks," he said, dead-pan, and took a drink along with all the other present men. Alastor raised a brow but complied.

"These games sure are creative!" said Lucifer, eagerly joining in to draw his own card. It was a King. "Ha-ha! That's me!" He looked around the room for confirmation. "Now what?"

"Pour some of your drink in and come up with a rule for the group."

"Rule for what?"

"For the game, like what we must all follow…"

After some more detailed explanations, Lucifer finally came up with a rule. Cherri was beginning to think that this game did not fare so well in such mixed company. Especially with the old-timers and Hellborn involved…

"Okay! Whenever you touch the table, you must sing a line from a song that existed in the years between 1000 and 2000 while facing North and then everyone must move down one seat, clockwise! Then you must quack like a duck–"

"Hey! How about if you touch the table, you take a drink?" suggested Angel quickly before everyone sobered up out of boredom.

"Well, that's not nearly as fun–"

"Moving on! Alastor's girlfriend, your turn."

Rosie pointed at herself, curious at the title before merrily plucking out a card. It was a ten.

"Categories. Name something like… types of drinks and everyone continues the circle until they can't name anymore."

"Ooh how about body-parts?"

"Body-parts….?" questioned the collected group. Alastor smiled, he would be a natural at this.

"I'll start! Earlobe."

"Clavicle," continued Alastor, naming the first thing he thought of when glancing at the demoness across from him.

"Throat," said Pete, who managed to start playing despite Angel's protests.

"Erm– Knee?" said Shawshank, cradling his irish coffee.

"Teeth!" said Niffty, brandishing her own.

Seviathan glanced at Alastor and then turned back to Charlie. "Lips," his voice teasing.

Charlie quickly shouted, "Heart!" with a distracting vigor.

Angel said the most obvious answer to groans from the room. The 'body-parts' categories managed to make a solid lap around before Niffty confused a body part belonging to a demon with those of an insect. She downed her drink instead of sipping it, cackling.

It was Alastor's turn. Feeling a tad bit churlish, he plucked out a card and looked at it blankly. It was a Queen.

"Questions," began Cherri, somewhat deflated. Some of these rules were complicated for newcomers. "Smiles is the question master, if he asks you a question, you gotta answer with a question or you drink."

"Who came up with such a ridiculous rule?" asked Alastor.

"I don't know, some cunt–" said Cherri before she gasped at her own mistake. "You catch on fast!"

"Walked right into that one!" Angel said, pointing and laughing at Cherri.

"Well you have to drink too, bitch!"

She took a large swig and Angel begrudgingly joined in as her mate. He was drinking far more than the rest of them, swaying in his seat.

While they all managed to have fun as sober individuals, the drunken game was bringing out a side to everyone Charlie seldom witnessed. Husk was being friendly with her dad, who was also joking with Niffty. The hotel guests were loosening up and engaging with the staff more than usual.

And if she was being honest with herself, the drinking helped to drown out the other unsavory thoughts in her head and allowed her a little freedom as well.

A bolt of lightning struck outside the hotel, briefly illuminating the room in white before a low rumble pervaded the lobby. Charlie shivered. A storm like this was unexpected.

By now the group was increasingly tipsy. Everyone kept touching the table out of habit and Lucifer delighted in pointing out that fact whenever anyone even remotely leaned on it to steady themselves. Pete and Shawshank went next, drawing a two and ace respectively. Several more drinks and turns later, it was Seviathan's turn, who drew a Queen.

"Who do you think you are?" Seviathan demanded in the direction of the Radio Demon. He was the question master now and didn't hesitate to hop in the saddle.

Alastor's lip curled. His answer to that would border on detestable if it weren't for the rules of the game. Why was he even playing along? "Who do you think I am?"

"Someone with an overinflated sense of self, no doubt!" Seviathan said with surprising clarity. He hiccuped. And ignoring Alastor's reaction, turned over to Charlie.

"Fancy a night on the town?" The serpent singsong'd, wobbling into her shoulder.

"Are you asking me out?" said Charlie, oblivious to his aching seriousness.

"Yes, I am, will you get dinner with me?"

"Err–" Charlie hesitated, glancing around the room. Everyone was eying her expectantly, some waiting to see if she'd keep the questions going or if she'd have to drink. Others watched with different thoughts in mind, more… threatening thoughts. She avoided one pair of eyes in particular.

"Maybe later…?" she replied, her sentence rising in the semblance of a question.

This was enough to satisfy Seviathan and he grinned lopsidedly. "It's a deal~"

Angel wanted to smack his own face, the awkwardness in the room palpable.

"Oi, is this actually happening?" whispered Cherri, none too quietly. "I need some of your stash t' get through this!"

Angel shoved Cherri, rather roughly in his drunken state. No one besides Husk knew he had been using as far as he knew, and the last person he'd want to be aware of that was Charlie.

"Shut up! I ain't got no stash," he said, a little unconvincingly.

"Yes, you do, you prick! I just saw you!"

"Angel?" asked Charlie, the duo's argument not being lost in the energy of the group.

"Umm," said Husk, hurriedly, "It's your turn, princess."

"No, wait, what did you say?" Charlie continued, pushing aside her dealings with Seviathan for now.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Not now, Sev," said Charlie, ignoring his cries for her to drink.

"Nothing, Char! Just ignore it, we're all having fun, huh? Cherri is just being stupid." Angel put Cherri in a headlock.

She squirmed out of his grip, pushing him aside. Angel bumped into the person next to him, effectively causing a domino effect of curses and spilled drinks.

"What the fuck's your problem, bitch! Don't try and hide that shit!" yelled Cherri, sloppy and angry. Her hair was ruffled and she was more miffed than she might've been otherwise. The storm crackled outside, the torrent of rain amplifying the mood inside.

"When're you ever gonna learn to shut the hell up!?" shouted Angel, slamming an angry fist against the table, shaking it.

"Hey, take it easy!" said Husk.

"Angel, have you been using again?" Charlie asked. Angel had been making so much progress. In fact, he was her star pupil, the one she had the absolute most faith and trust in. If Angel failed, then…

"Char, I–Fuck it, I'm outta here–" Angel stood to leave.

Alastor smacked his palms against the table, shaking cups and bottles, the tinkling of glass commanding everyone's attention. "Whoopsie!" said Alastor, throwing a pointed glance at Lucifer who was watching this whole debacle with a curious look.

"Wha…?" Lucifer questioned before finally catching on. "Oh! Radio Demon! You touched the table, time to drink!" he commanded, laughing heartily.

"Drink, drink, drink!" Niffty chanted, pounding her little fists on the table as Lucifer called her out too.

Cherri crossed her arms and grunted, but moved on once another drink was poured for her by Husk. She huffed and downed it, mumbling to herself, the booze working through her system.

Charlie, however, didn't know what to think. She looked down at the table, solemn in thought, wondering how she missed this. She'd have to confront Angel at a later date, or at least discuss with him what happened. She has been distracted. With Alastor, Vaggie, promoting the hotel. When would she have possibly had the time to focus on her actual hotel guests? Another step backwards, another failure. Her drunken mind not allowing her to see any positives.

But it was the Princess of Hell's turn.

At the table's gentle urging, she chose a card and showed it to the waiting crowd. It was a Seven.

"Heaven!"

Charlie eagerly pointed towards the sky with her pointer, her mind reeling at the fortuitous card choice. She could still turn it all around! Surely it must be a sign!

But the speed of her movements or the lingering darkness of the lobby failed to blind the audience of her father with his perceptive glare at her newly marked finger. In her upset, she forgot to hide the hand with the mysterious splotch and had just clearly revealed it to all present company.

"What in Hell is that, Char-Char?" he slurred, the booze having made its way through his angelic veins.

"Huh?"

"On your finger, what is that?"

Charlie quickly ducked her hand back down. "Err- dad, you're not the question master," she attempted to deflect.

In an instant, Lucifer was up, his wings gliding him across the table. Shouts of confusion rippled down his path of destruction. The demon king ignored them all as he clutched her wrist and held it up to eye-level.

"Hey!"

"What's your problem, old man!?" yelled Cherri, the King's cup spilled across the cards.

Alastor held his breath. This was not going to be good. How did he recognize it so quickly? His skin sizzled in anticipation, his radio staff buzzing at a low frequency.

The King of Hell sniffed the splotch at her finger, Charlie struggling to release her hand from his drunken iron grip.

"It smells like…" Lucifer's eyes widened. He focused now on the deer demon, pupils turning into slits. "It smells like you."

...


AN: Nothing like a party to bring out the worst in everyone lol.

It's actually crazy how many spam emails I've received because of this fic. The most I ever have! More spam emails than reviews probably hahaha.

Hope you're enjoying this party arc!