Alastor pulled himself out of the pool.

He was soaking wet. His shirt clung to his skin, defining every curve and that molded his lean body. His hair was damp and limp, but his ears still perked up like an attentive deer's might be.

The sight of him made your stomach feel hot. His chest... his shoulders... all just looming before you. Alastor was grinning down at you—obviously enjoying himself—and was still slightly breathless from being thrown into the pool.

"Let me help you out of there, my dear," he said, holding a thin hand out before him. You took it.

Once you were out of the pool, Alastor turned around and walked to the back of the room, grabbing something off of the floor. You were still wearing nothing but your undergarments, and the air felt absolutely freezing against your bare, wet skin. (It was always cold when you got out of a pool.) The marble was sticky under your wrinkled feet, and it made a suction-cup sound whenever you stepped.

When he approached you again, there was a big white towel in his hands. You had your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, trying to keep all of the warmth you could within you, since the air just seemed to be trying to suck it all away. Alastor saw how cold you were and wrapped the soft towel around your shoulders himself, smiling the entire time.

The towel was cozy and dry against your wet shoulders, and it made you feel much better. Giving Alastor a warm smile, you balled your fists up around the soft fabric of the towel and hugged it tighter against yourself.

"Thanks," you sighed.

Alastor beamed. His hair was drooping over his forehead in a super adorable way, little droplets of water still dripping down onto his face. You desperately wanted to touch it. "Anything for you."

You blushed at his words. He was so charming, and it was really giving you a good impression. Everything Vaggie said about him earlier was vanishing further from your mind by the second. "You're so sweet to me. Why?" you questioned suddenly.

"Isn't it obvious? I enjoy your company."

That made your stomach flip into a horrible knot. "Huh. The Radio Demon enjoys my company," you said calmly.

"Of course." He chuckled, and it came from deep within his chest. "Anyways, you can go back to the hotel room and grab something to eat, if you would like. If not that, feel free to do whatever else your heart desires!"

"Alone?" you asked with a small frown. "I thought you were staying with me tonight." That's what he had said earlier. Now, you were kind of looking forward to it.

"Of course I am, but I need to find myself some dry clothes before I can join you," he replied as if it was obvious, gesturing toward his soaking body. "I'll meet you back in the hotel room tonight! The room number is 266."

"Alright then," you said, nodding reluctantly. You didn't want to part with him, not yet, but it seemed as though you had no choice.

Deciding to try and thing about something other than Alastor, you made yourself repeat the room number over and over in your head. That way, you would actually remember it. 266, 266, 266.

Alastor grinned, then placed a hand gently on your shoulder, which was protected with a layer of towel. He glanced at your neck momentarily, then back at your eyes, but you barely noticed—all of your attention was focused on the pressure he applied to your shoulder. "I'll see you later, my love."

☆

There was a content feeling sitting in your stomach, and it was nice. You had not felt happy since the day before you... went to go get bacon from Kroger. Every minute after the events of that afternoon were like torture.

Your parents had come back up from Florida exactly on the day your court date was scheduled. They had to come, of course, but not as witnesses. They came as nothing more than your parents, and yet they were still unenthusiastic about leaving their wonderful vacation.

You did a lot of thinking before you called to tell them that they had to end their honeymoon early to come back home to deal with your 'legal situation'. You had expected them to be supportive of you—not supportive about the murder, of course, because that would be wrong on so many levels. The least you had expected was that they would help you get through it all, emotionally speaking.

That wasn't the case. Although your parents loved you beyond comprehension, your mom was devastated when you told her about the events; you were glad you told them over the phone, because if you had to watch your mom's face as she reacted so sadly, you probably would have killed yourself right then and there.

They came back up home, and when you first saw them, they did not cover you in loving kisses and hugs like they always did. Instead, they looked at you like they had never seen you before. It filled you with such an unpleasant coldness that, for the last week of your real life, you went to live with Nate. At least he did not feed you looks or pity or anger every time he saw you, like your parents had. You remembered how they stared at you like you were some rabid dog lurking around the house.

But now, you felt good. Lighter. Not your highest point, surely, but... not your lowest. And you were sure that talking with Alastor had something to do with the mood change. He had listened to you vent about the entire car crash experience, which was not something your parents or even Nate had wanted to hear about.

The sky was getting darker, turning more burgundy rather than the red that it was earlier. The door behind you clicked shut as you stepped away from the old ice skating building and into the road, looking left, then right. There were barely any cars, and most that you saw were parked somewhere next to a loud, crowded building.

As you were looking over the vast city around you, you realized that you had no idea how to get back to the hotel.

A lightning bolt of panic went through you. Alastor had already left to go who knows where, so you couldn't ask him for any directions. What if you couldn't find your way back to the hotel? Then, surely, you wouldn't have anywhere to sleep for your first night in hell.

You could only imagine what being homeless down here was like.

Instead of letting the anxiety get to you, you took some deep breaths and just decided to walk, and that wherever you ended up, you could find your way to the Happy Hotel from there.

So you walked. With each step, your spiked nerves tightened more and more until they became completely overbearing.

The city appeared more confusing (and, not to mention, scary) now that you were alone. You strolled through the streets, searching for the hotel or something that might lead you to it, but all you found were clusters of low-scale casinos, nightclubs and a few motels.

Sighing, you sat right down on the edge sidewalk—the part that was furthest from the street—propped your elbows up on your knees and rested your chin in your hands to take a break. Your feet hurt from walking, and you were still feeling anxious, what with you being alone in a city filled with demons and all. You felt like some random creep could jump out at you at any minute and kidnap you, rape you, torture you...

Leaning against the brick wall of a building behind you, you shook the horrific thoughts from your mind. You just wanted to find the hotel so you could shower and go to sleep. Plus, you were hungry.

You then noticed a big block of an object in your peripheral vision. When you turned to inspect, your gaze was met with what looked like an old refrigerator. As you inspected it a little bit more, you inferred that it was a vending machine. You gasped a little, hoping that maybe you could break it and get a snack or something, but when you leaned forward, you saw that it contained nothing but drugs. Useless.

Frustration was welling up inside of you like an inflating balloon. Just as you were about to just give up and start crying, you heard a car pulling up somewhere nearby. Feeling a mixture of fear for some fucked-up weirdo coming for you and elation at the thought of someone giving you directions to the hotel, you didn't move, just stayed put with your back pressed against the rough wall.

The car stopped a few yards away from you. It was sleek and small, painted reddish-brown and shinning under the light from the bright streetlight above it.

The passenger car door opened. Two tall, high-heeled boots stepped out, making clicking sounds as they found the cement. The demon that was getting out stopped, turned around, and leaned on the door, peering back into the car to whisper to the driver. One pink-gloved hand rose to brush back the fluff of white hair that hung over their face, revealing multi-colored eyes that looked enticing and kind, yet sharp, but in a good way.

The demon with the pretty eyes didn't look like a creep. Letting your spirit of inquiry get the better of you, you stood, then walked a few steps closer to the car, stopping once you reached the vending machine so that you couldn't be seen. The two demons were talking, but you couldn't quite hear what words were being thrown between them... until you could.

"Ouch, oooooh, such an insult. Let me know when you come up with something creative to call me you sack of pearly-packaged horse shit. Tell the misses I said hi, shnuckums!" the white haired demon chirped before placing a kiss on the driver's lips, who was a scrawny demon with dark grey fur. You could see him then through the hardly-tinted windshield.

The driver began to grumble to himself loudly as he sped off, the bored-looking demon in the road watching the engine sputter away, all four of his hands resting on his slim waist. The demon rolled his eyes, looked away, then grinned as his eyes caught sight of the vending machine, not acknowledging your presence.

He strolled over, and as he was bending down to press a button near the bottom of the drug dispenser, you spoke up. "Hello there," you said, your voice sounding smoother than usual.

The demon stood straight up, looking at you with an uninterested eyebrow angling upward. You could see his outfit more clearly now, and you actually liked it. He was wearing a white and baby pink stripped suit top with deeper pink accents on the collar, which was opened to show part of his fluffy chest. His gloves matched the pink accent shade. There was a black bow tie stuck around his neck, and a choker placed a bit higher up. "Do you need something?" he drawled.

You stepped out from the side of the machine so you were in front of him. You gave him a half smile, then said, "I'm lost. Could you point me in the direction of the Happy Hotel?"

"The Happy Hotel," he repeated with a frown. "Hey, I've heard of that place. The rehabilitation center or whatever. Sounds like a fuckin' jail to me. I think it's down that way." The demon pointed behind him with his thumb.

"Got it, thanks." You sighed loudly, pausing before you asked, "I don't think I know you. What's your name?" You were only asking to be polite, and also because this person looked interesting to you. No harm in asking for his name.

"Angel Dust—or just Angel for short, pleased to meet you. Need one of my cards? I'm open for business, 24/7. I'll do anythin' ya ask, but, uh, I don't really swing your way. Just an FYI, but I'll still give you a card! The business is competative nowadays and, quite frankly, I'm gettin' a little bored of ole heart eyes back there."

You were taken aback at how much he had just said to you. A literal perfect stranger, talking to you about his business as... a prostitute, it seemed. Good grief.

"Oh. No, thanks, I'm good. Not really in need of anything like that right now, but if I am in the future, you'll be the first to know."

He smirked at you. "Deal."

You walked around Angel, heading in the direction he pointed you in. When you were only a couple of steps away, you stopped and turned around. "I like your outfit, by the way. Your eyes look amazing with those colors," you genuinely complemented him.

"Thanks babe! Those jeans looked like they were chewed up and shit out of a rat's ass, but make your butt look good. You have a lot of gut to pull them off," he asserted in an elusive and flat tone.

You were not sure if you should take that as a complement or an insult. "Okay then," you mumbled to yourself, turning away from the demon once again.

☆

After about ten more minutes of walking through tall buildings with bright signs in all sorts of colors, you finally came across the Happy Hotel.

It appeared emptier and sadder than before, if anything, but maybe that was just an illusion of the darkening sky playing tricks on your tired mind. You blinked slowly as you approached the door, your stomach rumbling as you stepped inside the hotel.

At first, the room came across to you as empty, but then you saw Charlie sitting behind a large desk that you hadn't noticed the first time you came in.

You felt rather than heard the massive front doors slam shut behind you. Charlie's head jerked up at the sound, but her blonde hair smoothed down quickly. It looked so naturally gorgeous. You wanted to touch it.

You kind of had a thing for wanting to touch hair.

"Hello again, (Y/N)!" she chirped, standing to greet you. "How was your first day in hell?"

You actually grinned then, forgetting about the heaviness coursing through your veins. "It was weird. Alastor made it pretty good, though. I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't found me," you said. Charlie was searching for your room key now, her eyes grazing along a portion of the wall that was covered in gold cards.

"Room 266, right?"

"Yep."

She must have found the right one, because she plucked a card off the wall and walked around to give it to you. Giving you a friendly smile, she added, "I'm happy it wasn't terrible! Did you spend the entire day with Alastor?"

You shrugged. "Most of it, other than just now. He left to go..." You paused. What did he have to go do? Change? Was that really it? "...uh, get something done. I just walked back to the hotel."

Charlie nodded. "Great. Well, I will be over here if you need anything, just give me a call. There are phones in the rooms, and although you technically aren't a patient, room service will be provided if you need anything," she assured with a wink. "Stairs are over there; your room is on the second floor."

You thanked her, then left to find the stairs.

You could barely open the door; your hands felt like dead meat attatched to your body. That's how tired you were. Your eyes felt dry, and every time you blinked, it just hurt, like there was sand tucked underneath your eyelids.

You stumbled into the room, just barely glancing around before untying your shoes, pulling your tight jeans off, then collapsing on the bed and falling asleep, not even bothering to think about Alastor's whereabouts.