Charlie sighed contentedly as she tidied up the lobby. She was in a good mood. The hotel was making some real progress lately. She could feel her efforts just on the brink of finally paying off. For perhaps the first time in God knows how long she felt secure in her purpose. She stopped to survey the neat and clean hotel and as her eyes swept the arena her brain seemed to do the same, surveying her life at that moment. And it was good.

She was doing the good work, her father and her were now closer than ever, and all of her friends and family were healthy and happy. Well, as much as they could be while still living in their constant dire situations.

Her eyes and good feelings both came to an abrupt hesitation as she spotted Alastor across the way at the main doors of the hotel. The last of the dying light illuminated his stoic face as stared out the stained glass windows. He was still as a statue, his feet firmly planted in a wide stance, both hands resting on his cane squarely in front of him. It seemed like he was stuck in some kind of indecision. As if he couldn't quite choose whether to stay or walk out the door. Or maybe he was waiting for something, someone. Though who or what Charlie could not say.

Come to think of it, he did seem a little off lately. She couldn't really describe it, or put her finger on the issue. The truth was Alastor was always a little "off." Being unhinged was just part of his charm. One couldn't really be a horrifying Demon Overlord and a silly song and dance man and still expect to keep the whole of their sanity.

On top of that so much had happened over the past year or so. There were times that Charlie had thought she was beginning to see Alastor's humanity, but then it would vanish and he was back to the heartless night terror they had all become accustomed to. If he was hurting in any way, he would never show it to her, or anyone for that matter. Charlie knew that having sympathy for Alastor was useless, but she couldn't help it. She was worried about him.

She walked up to him. He didn't seem to notice her until she loudly cleared her throat. At the noise his ears twitched and he turned to look over his shoulder. The monocle perched on his high cheek bone glinted in the light.

"Ah, Charlie, deer." He sounded cheerful, but turned away resuming his sentry duty. "What can I do for you?"

"Um," she suddenly didn't know what to say. "I just wanted to check on you, you know. You've been standing over here for quite a while now. How are you doing?"

"Oh, just ducky," he said in a way that made Charlie feel like he wasn't really listening to her. It was clear that she would have to be more direct. She let out a frustrated puff of breath that flipped her bangs out of her eyes and then came around to stand right in front of him.

"You know, if there is something weighing on your mind, something that maybe you would feel better talking about, I am always here for you. You can tell me anything and I promise not to judge." The second this offer came out of her mouth she regretted it. What if he thought she was just a meddling fool? What if he was insulted by her probing? Or worse, what if he actually took her up on her offer? What if he wanted to spill his guts and tell her all the awful things he had done? What if he needed a shoulder to cry on? Could anyone truly be prepared for that?

Luckily, he simply smiled down at her reassuringly and said, "Thank you. That is very gracious of you, but you need not worry yourself with the likes of me."

"Are you sure?" She had to admit she was very relieved at his response.

"Quite." Alastor kicked the bottom of his cane, sending it spinning in the air. After it had made a full revolution, he deftly caught it and tucked it under an arm with a flourish. "I am right as rain. So don't you fret."

Charlie smiled weakly, not quite believing him. But when it came to Alastor, anything could be going on behind that gruesome grin of his.

He turned on his heel and began to depart just as a knocking came at the door. Charlie answered, ready to greet any sinner who may be on the other side. But as she swung the door open, all she could muster was a slightly confused, "oh." Standing in the gloom before her was an imp in a jester's outfit. Her vacant red eyes and painted on smile stared up at Charlie asking for nothing.

"Can I, uh, help you?"

The imp pointed. Charlie followed the outstretched finger past herself and toward Alastor, who had stopped and was now looking back at them with a strange expression. The imp made a gesture instructing Alastor to follow her. He hesitated a moment and then obeyed. As he passed her at the door, Charlie called after him.

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere of importance," he called back as he disappeared into the night. "No need to worry."

She watched until they were both out of sight before closing the door. She frowned as she started to climb the stairs. What could he be up to know? She would later stay up until the small hours of the morning bouncing theories off of Vaggie, who would mostly smile sleepily and nod.

Alastor didn't know what he expected as Kitty led him through the streets toward Vee Tower. He did know what to expect while she guided him through the twists and turns of the hallways and stairwells of the Tower itself. (She was better than even him at eluding the many security cameras.) He also didn't know what to expect when Kitty opened the door after they crossed the length of the 19th floor.

Maybe the jig was up. Vox found out about Alastor's nightly visits and now lay in wait. Maybe Isobel had finally put her pride aside and was ready to confess her undying devotion to him and beg him to take her from that terrible place. Or maybe… a quiet, dark thought whispered from the back of his mind. Maybe she was dead and he would find her limp and cold.

All of those thoughts dissipated as he stepped over the threshold and found Isobel simply sitting.

Obviously she had been waiting for him, sitting in a small chair, legs and arms crossed. She looked remarkably normal. She wore a black shirt with a wide neck revealing her neck and collar bones. Her hair was pulled into a tight, neat french braid, the rope of which hung over one shoulder. Her short sleeves allowed him to see the coal black markings that covered her hands had now climbed mid way up her forearms. And he could just make out the hints of the inky streak that ran down the back of her neck.

She gave him a weary, yet shrewd smile.

"Good evening, Alastor," she said.

"And to you, Isobel." He opened his arms and made a low bow, always the showman. "You rang?

"Please sit." She gestured toward a matching chair positioned right across from her. As Alastor sat, he became aware that their knees were almost touching.

He smiled, charming and devilish. "What is it that I can do for you tonight?"

Her face fell and suddenly she was very serious.

"I've called you here to make a deal."