Charlie jittered at the coldness spreading from the radio demon's chilling touch. A brief silence fell over them as Alastor placed his empty mug on the table. His eyes dropped to his scrawny hand around the handle of the cup.

His untrimmed nails were long on most of his fingers, they were lacking in pigment like the rest of his natural complexion, and some were even unevenly textured on the surfaces, or possessed ridges from a diet of malnutrition.

Alastor switched his focus back to the blonde belle uncomfortably. Was she watching again? Charlie's occasional glance to her own set of fingers as she dined told him something he did not like. When she finally made eye contact with him, he suddenly stood up from his chair and snapped his usual attire back on as his hairstyle undid itself with a small puff of red smoke.

Charlie looked at his outfit change and was stunned at her sudden discontent. She took in Alastor's pinstripe suit she was used to along with his bow tie. It was not that his appearance was unappealing, but Charlie realized she much preferred his laidback look with his hair up—and also when his tail was showing. Just remembering his little tail made her want to die from cuteness aggression.

His casual style seemed to show his more rugged nature, which in turn, had brought out his attractive features in an odd way. The very flashback of the soft gaze from Alastor's warm, crimson eyes that held a new kind of intensity behind them from when he had thanked her was more than enough for Charlie's chest to become tight. His slight smile was that of a peaceful one, making his sudden calm demeanor all the more unexpected at the time.

Alastor flexed his fingers in satisfaction as he studied the black glove concealing his hand. He was the first to break the silence. "Are you finished, chère?" He asked, locking eyes with Charlie, who had been studying him again. She jolted in her chair skittishly before turning away to hide her burning blush. "Oh! Um—er, y-yeah!"

"Splendid!"

After her dishes disappeared, it took her a moment to get herself together until she got up. Not that she succeeded, but she managed to paste an awkward, yet innocent, smile on anyway. Alastor shortly led them to the parlor where he offered to play her another song. Charlie made herself comfortable in Alastor's armchair by the fire out of habit. As she gathered her knees up to her chest to warm up in front of the flames, the deer demon had already began warming up on the keys.

"Any requests in particular, dear?"

The blonde looked over her shoulder at his perfect posture on the black bench. "You pick," she decided. Alastor responded with a nod. "Very well, then." He proceeded to play a gentle jazz tune that she recognized, but could not quite put her finger on. "So," he began. "I reckon Charlie is short for Charlotte?" As he carried small talk, his fingers effortlessly continued to maneuver themselves along the keys.

"Yeah, it is," Charlie confirmed. "I prefer Charlie, but Charlotte is sometimes okay." Alastor listened to her explanation quietly. "My parents never liked anything that wasn't my given name. I guess you could say I also grew up in a family of elites." She said the word with quotation motions of her fingers and a roll of her eyes. "Life was all about appearance, something I've never really been good at..."

Her eyes landed on the fireplace as she remembered her past life.

"But...I guess that's one upside to dying."

Alastor lifted his gaze from the piano and brought his full attention to the indifferent girl by the fire. She was neither happy or upset. Almost like...a shell. For a mere fraction of a second, it was almost like looking into a mirror, and for some reason, it was perpetually disturbing. He watched Charlie turn her head to a large mirror on the wall and sigh.

The vampire ghost girl on the wall stared back, appearing more lost than ever.

Alastor's urge to comfort his young blonde guest was becoming overwhelmingly strong like an itch he just had to scratch. It made no sense to him, but that did not matter. He retracted from the instrument mid-song to make his way over to her. The oh-so-great radio demon never left a piece unfinished, but he was willing to make an exception.

Charlie silently gasped when she felt a hand placed on her shoulder. "Charlie, my dear," Alastor carefully spoke. She tilted her head upward to see him standing in front of her while bending to her eye level. "It's a shame they couldn't see how wonderful you are." His thoughtful words were enough to earn a sad smile from her.

He always knew what to say. The King of Hell abruptly straightened himself and put his shoulders back. "Glad to see you turn that frown upside down!" He pointed out as he gestured to his own smile. "Come, I want to show you something."

Before Charlie could reply, Alastor yanked her up from the chair by her hand and scurried the two of them over to the golden trimmed mirror on the wall. He placed his two gloved hands on her shoulders from behind, then gazed at their reflection.

"Charlie, look in that mirror," he directed, his tone growing serious. "You know what I see?" Her silence indicated him to continue. Charlie's eyes widened as she watched the Alastor in the mirror lurk closer to her ear all while reddened from his proximity. They really needed to have a talk about personal space, but then again it was only an issue if she actually disliked it—

"I see a strong, loathsome, horrifying monster," his voice lowered raspily, making her skin crawl with chills. Before Charlie had time to react, Alastor withdrew and straightened his monocle as he pointed to her in the mirror.

"Oh, look, you're here too!" He noted while pretending to just notice her.

Charlie faced him with a glare as he roared with laughter at his little remark, but she was quickly finding it difficult to be upset with him. When Alastor came up for air, he put a hand to his chest and shook his head. "Oh, darling, I'm just teasing." And with that, he playfully dotted her nose, causing an intense blush to surface to her face. Charlie attempted to sputter something out, then spun around with her arms crossed as her ponytail almost whipped him in the face.

"I-it was still rude," she huffed while pretending to pout. She could hear the radio demon chuckle behind her. "Alright, alright," he admitted as he itched behind one of his ears. "Ta frustration est mignonne, chérie~" The foreign words that flowed like honey from his silver tongue almost sent a shudder down her spine. Charlie's fascination made her shift back into his direction. "Was that French?" She inquired. Alastor's smile enlarged. "Indeed it was, darling!"

"You can speak it?"

"Why, of course!" He boasted, holding his head high. "I've been around long before man communicated by tongue, but I must say, French is by far my favorite. It truly holds passion and expression, not to mention, it's an art all on its own. There is a reason it's famous for being the most beautiful language of all time."

The blonde dropped her jaw at his subtle indication of knowing every language known to mankind. "It's also one of the more easy ones. I can't quite read all of them perfectly," Alastor confessed before summoning his staff. "That cuneiform is a real tough nut to crack. But let's keep that between you and me." He sent Charlie a wink, earning a giggle from her.

Otis, the shadow minion, casually observed the scene from behind the grand piano with his miniature arms crossed on it, eyeing the playful encounter between the duo with delight. Alastor noticed him, of course, but did not spare him a glance as he absorbed his guest's heavenly laughter.

Alastor suddenly stiffened when he remembered something important he had scheduled. He stole a glance at the black grandfather clock nearby the massive portrait of himself that was framed with a beautifully carved onyx wood. It was almost ten in the morning. The radio demon placed his microphone in his hand as he studied it.

"Well, as much as I enjoy conversing with you, Charlie, dear, I have a telephone call I must make," he informed. "Is there anywhere you desire to go in the palace to keep yourself entertained?"

Charlie placed a finger to her lip in thought. "Hmmm...." Her face suddenly lit up with an idea. "Actually, could you take me to the library again, Alastor? There's something I want to look up," she requested with newfound eagerness. Her host immediately took interest in this, causing him to lift an eyebrow. He was tempted to ask, but he knew he had an awaiting engagement. "Certainly, ma chère! I'm happy you've taken an interest in it."

Alastor locked his elbow with Charlie's, then teleported them to inside of their destination. He adjusted his monocle and reached for one of the handles to the set of French doors. "I promise I won't be as long as last time, Charlie," he told her. "I hope Otis' company will be satisfactory enough." He gestured to the shadow minion perched on one of the round tables. Alastor flashed him a glare. "Otis, get off of the table!" He hissed as he shook a fist. "What did I say about standing on the furniture?!" 

Charlie quickly suppressed a giggle as she watched Otis take his sweet time floating to the floor. "I don't care if you don't leave tracks, that's no proper way to act in front of a guest!" He scolded, pointing to the blonde before raising an eyebrow at her poorly hidden laughter. The minion had zipped behind her for protection and stuck his head out. If he had a voice, he would have been snickering along with her. "Alastor, relax," Charlie chuckled as she peered at Otis clinging to the hem of her dress. "It doesn't bother me."

Alastor pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. "It's not about the result of his actions, it's about discipline, and most importantly, etiquette," he explained, emphasizing the last word while he pinched the air. Charlie and Otis simultaneously rolled their eyes. The stag yanked the double doors open and sent his servant one last dirty look. "You. Shut up and do your job," he snapped.

The young damsel paused when she thought of something to ask him. Otis predicted her moves before she stepped forward to reach for Alastor. "Oh, hey, Al—" The shadow minion harshly tugged on the back of her hem before she could finish his name. Charlie nearly stumbled, but regained her footing, then oddly looked behind her.

"Whoa! What is i—"

He wasn't there.

She stared down blankly at the empty spot. Her head shook in confusion before she turned to Alastor again. Charlie processed what she had said as her eyes widened, which in turn gave her a flashback to the night prior. "Oh, um, I—!" She frantically waved a hand defensively. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to call you that!" She instantly apologized. "I know you asked me to call you Alastor I didn't mean to say that last night I wasn't really thinking and I hope it didn't bother you please don't be upset!"

Honestly, she was more embarrassed than anything. What was furthermore embarrassing was that she did not know why.

Alastor sent her a smirk of amusement over his shoulder. "Oh, contraire," he answered as he turned over his staff in his hands. He moved his focus to the floor beneath him as his bangs fell in front of his eyes. "Unlike you, I've never liked being called anything other than my given name. But for you, I suppose I'm willing to make an exception." Alastor smiled fondly at the staff he was currently fiddling with in his grasp, then exited without another word.

Charlie shuffled her feet and took in the massive chamber once again. She walked to one of the antique tables and pulled out a cushioned chair to sit down. She looked over to her left to find Otis sitting beside her and jolted with surprise. "You both need to stop doing that," she muttered under her breath. Charlie peered over her shoulder at the doorway. She became flooded with a fuzzy feeling inside of her. "Did he really mean that?" She asked the minion as she smiled to herself. Otis stared back for a moment, then gave her a small nod while smiling with his glowing eyes.

Her bright orbs flashed with determination. She tightened her long, curly ponytail, then pulled her hands down into fists. "Okay, let's do this!" Charlie affirmed. She dramatically pointed to Otis in very Alastor-like way. "Otis, prepare to study. We're going to need a lot of books." Otis saluted the blonde and soared off toward an isle of shelves.

Concurrently, Alastor was just getting settled down into his study. He stood by his French armchair at his desk, carelessly waving the door shut without bothering to look. The stag slid off his coat and hung it on the back of his seat, then routinely removed his gloves. His face contorted into one of slight discomfort as he reached behind his lower back. He felt his sore appendage from his incident earlier, which had resulted from sheer clumsiness and paranoia on his own part.

The pain was duller now, but it persisted. He carefully caressed the fluffy extremity once or twice, hoping to ease the slight throbbing feeling. It did not help that he had less time in the day for his tail to show freely. Although, concealing it underneath of his jacket hardly bothered him anymore, it was always a mild relief whenever he removed it, but days with less time to himself—especially with his new, little guest—he did not allow himself that privilege.

Alastor had not expected her to get up so early, much less be able to locate the kitchen all the way from her quarters so soon. And of course, the goddamn drawer slamming on his overly sensitive tail had done quite the number on him. It was nearly impossible to keep the terrible sensation from being evident on his face when he was dining with Charlie. The pulsating throbs were far too much to withstand any sort of contact, so the deer demon had to eat without his usual attire.

Alastor adjusted his suspenders before peering down over his shoulder. He held up his hands before him in uncertainty, fingers curling slightly. He gave his tail a little wag to stretch it out some. Relief washed over him, seeing that it did not hurt to move anymore. Alastor carefully sat down with a sigh and lit a fresh cigar from a new pack. He picked up his candlestick handset then dialed.

While holding the earpiece to his head, he gently rearranged a stray bit of red hair around his long ear.

The line went straight to his intended audience.

"Yes...Alastor...?"

The King of Hell's face brightened as he put on a cheery voice. "Ah! Wonderful! I see you let me get through to you without a receptionist!" Alastor crowed while inspecting his nails. "It's quite satisfactory when one gets the respect they are already entitled to, wouldn't you say? Although, seeing that I have earned a direct line to your personal number out of all of the people you work with, Gabe, it's quite flattering, really!"

Alastor contently took three long puffs of his cigar before the endlessly long sigh had come to an end on the other line. "Stop messing around, Alastor," his former colleague exhaled. "I'm not even supposed to be doing this in the first place." Alastor let out a hearty laugh. "Not supposed to what? Save souls? Make things right? Talk with an old coworker? Come now, you know we both merely want what's best for both realms..." He trailed, twirling his finger around his telephone cord. "We both receive what is rightfully ours, then stay the hell out of each other's business as it was intended."

"Yeah, well, I got a lot of grief for convincing Michael to keep a tighter grip on his reins after this all blows over. He hates that place. And this whole plan is only going to work if you can keep the numbers down yourself, got it?"

"Why, of course! After all, it's what I do best," Alastor responded sinisterly. "No need to worry, my fellow! She'll be in pristine shape for our little exchange, you have my word!"

"I wouldn't call it a 'little' exchange, Alastor," the archangel cautiously warned. "You know how it is in heaven; everything is done by the book, and nothing like this has ever happened in the entirety of time itself. It's been decided a hearing will be held within twenty four hours after Charlotte Magne is safely obtained to determine if she still worthy since her first death. That's where you come in as the primary witness."

Alastor hummed in response with a nod.

"And then what?"

"Before the hearing, the damned soul must first undergo a cleanse to be relieved of their demon form," he explained, his tone growing more serious. Alastor continued to nod along as he put out the stub of his cigar on his ash tray. "Unfortunately...to have oneself go through one powerful enough for that...it will be excruciating."

The headset slipped from Alastor's hand. He was welcomed back to Hell when it hit the floor. "Hello? Alastor?" Gabriel's voice blared through the speaker. The radio demon snatched it up just as fast as his wavering smile adjusted itself. "Ah! Sorry, old sport, thought I had lost you!" He obnoxiously laughed with a swat of his hand. He heard a sigh from the other end followed with silence. Alastor knew what it meant all too well.

"I specialize in pain and torture for a living, though that's very thoughtful of you to worry," he hissed condescendingly.

More silence.

Gabriel drew in a breath.

"...They won't hold back because she's innocent, Alastor. Michael's bitches are sadists, and they'll look for any reason to make the Conversion Ritual far more tormenting than necessary because she's a demon."

Alastor rubbed a hand down his face until there were bloody claw marks across his jaw. His teeth were grinding and his horns began to grow a few points taller as the angel carefully went on.

"I don't agree with injustice anymore than you do. But unfortunately, it's inevitable if Charlotte has a shot of leaving Hell."

It was his number one hatred in all existence, and that was no secret. Only sinners were rightfully punished. Charlie did not deserve such horrid treatment. She was far too loving and pure for anything that was remotely disciplining. Alastor would not have even been able to confiscate a piece of cake from her without feeling a bit of remorse.

He could not imagine—no, he would not imagine all the fun the exorcists would have with her. His bloody hand slammed the earpiece down on the handset. He smeared the excess black fluid dripping from his skin across his cheek. He could not let anything break her. She was a pretty piece of chinaware—delicate and fragile, beautiful and priceless. She was irreplaceable.

Knowing that he was now powerless from keeping Charlotte out of harm's way like he promised her had caused something to stir inside the King of Hell.

Waaaaah I wanted to reach 5000 words I had a lot more planned but this just seemed like the right place to end it. Oh well I'll just continue in the next chapter as one typically does 🤣

This was supposed to be done last week and I also forgot about Valentine's Day so I am double sorry I missed that update too >.<

Please vote or comment! Hope you liked! 😄

~ Sapphire out