Upon returning from your stroll with Sir Pentious, the hotel seemed even more hushed than before, a silent observer to the evening's clandestine tales. It was then that you noticed Alastor standing by the staircase leading up to your room, an enigmatic presence in the stillness of the lobby.

You couldn't help but let out a weary sigh, a shiver running through you as the night's chill finally settled in your bones.

"Thank you for a pleasant evening; let's talk more tomorrow. Perhaps we could meet again," you said, wrapping the night's memories around you like a shawl. Sir Pentious nodded, his smile gentle and his eyes reflecting a sentiment far beyond the simple curve of his lips. He raised your hand to his and graced the bones with a kiss that held promises and whispered, "Not any longer, my dear."

Then he retreated, his form blending with the shadowy corners of the grand entrance until he was no more than a part of the night itself.

Left in the company of Alastor's watchful gaze, you pondered the mysteries that seemed to cling to the edges of his form. Even the air seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the story that would spill from the silence between you two. But sometimes, the questions of night's shadows are best left unanswered until dawn's light.

"Okay, enough with the games," you spoke sharply, a flare of frustration sparking in your (e/c) eyes that burned with a fiery life. "I've had it with your cryptic lurking, Alastossr; what do you want?"

The Radio Demon flinched slightly at your fierce tone, and you wondered briefly if you'd caught him off guard. Was he asleep standing up or was he truly watching me like some kind of vigilant hawk?

"I do beg your pardon, my dear, it's just that your beauty is quite... captivating," he responded, his smile growing ever wider as he recovered his poise. It was only then you became fully aware of your attire, still clad in your nightgown from the evening's escapade. You exhaled a sigh, a mix of resignation and mild annoyance threading through your voice. "I'm aware you're a sinner, Alastor, but do try to be a bit more gentlemanly about it," you chided, tossing your long, dark hair over your shoulder in an attempt to veil more of your exposed décolletage from his unwavering gaze.

In your heart, you knew Alastor was not the type to be easily swayed by rebukes or appearances, yet in this tale of the night, each character played their role, and you played yours with a candid elegance that both challenged and intrigued the Radio Demon standing before you.

Alastor sighed and stepped forward, his hands outstretched and gently grasped mine where they rested on my arms. "My dear, no need for sour faces, we've simply not been graced with your company as much as of late," he crooned, leaning in closer with that ever-present grin. "For this is all but an invitation, is it not? This cloak of yours was not donned merely for comfort—you wanted me to see, did you not?"

I scoffed at his presumption, withdrawing my hands swiftly, fingers sparking with magical fire, a clear threat to the arrogant sinner. Perhaps I should let the flames consume him, rid myself of his audacity. Yet, there is merriment in this game, and in some twisted way, I have grown to cherish the company of him... of all of them.

With a deep sigh, caught in the interplay of irritation and amusement, I spoke, "Alastor, do not mistake my indulgence for submission. My attire may be on display, but my patience certainly has its limits."

His eyes widened just a fraction—the subtlest sign of surprise in the Radio Demon, one might miss if not paying close enough attention. It was a dance of wit and will we were entangled in, and the next move was his to make.

"Understood, then my apologies, m'lady," Alastor retracted his hands and placed one over his heart, bowing ever so slightly, "If you'd like, I can escort you up the stairway to your chambers."

Though I huffed at his formality, I found myself accepting his outstretched hand, unwittingly igniting a trail of sparks that traveled up his arm and the sensation of warmth that curled at the nape of my neck as we ascended the stairs and walked through the corridors housing my room and those of the others.

Soon, we stood before my door, and I was swift to release his grasp. He gifted me one final smile and said, "Goodnight, dear. Sweet dreams," his voice melodic, almost a sing-song as he dissolved into the shadows, leaving a faint echo in the still air.

What a peculiar man.

I let out a soft sigh and massaged the bridge of my nose. Unlocking the door, I slipped out of my robe and into the comforting embrace of my bed. Sleep descended upon me ruthlessly, ensnaring me in its depths like a bear trap, and the darkness whisked me away from thought and time into a realm of quietude and dreams.