** From now on, if you see these symbols:
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That means you may play the song for best feels if you are using the soundtrack **

After making the startling discovery that Charlotte Magne was not a woman at all, but a mere ADOLESCENT, was immensely disturbing for the King of Hell.

Alastor neatly folded his soiled napkin and disposed of it into thin air, paying no mind to his minion soaked in Expresso. He replaced his crooked grin with a wider, tighter smile. "Why, nineteen? My, you're practically a lady!"

Otis scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

His little blonde guest sat taller in her chair at the compliment. "I try to be," she proudly replied. "I don't mean to brag, but I could dance with the most books on my head in my ballroom etiquette class! I made it to three!" She imitated Alastor's smirk while laying a hand on her chest.

This earned a laugh from him as he felt his shoulders relax somewhat. "Is that so? Now, I wonder what occasion could possibly call for dancing with that many books." A laugh track played throughout the room from an unseen audience.

"Oh...well, it was a preparation for my debutante ball. That was supposed to be my birthday gift from my parents..." Charlie informed. The radio demon's face brightened. "Oh! So, you're turning twenty??" He pressed with newfound relief. The demoness wrinkled her eyebrows. "What? Oh, no. It was last week," she finished, uncomfortably shifting in her chair. Otis let out a noisy snicker by his master's ear as the deer demon visibly paled, his smile shrinking while his lips tightened into a fine line.

The King of Hell whipped his head toward his minion with radio dials flickering in his glowing eyes while he made sure he escaped the blonde damsel's view. At that, the miniature shadow cowered at the blooming essence of black smoke dancing along his master's fingertips under the table, instantly vanishing before the pair's eyes. Alastor sighed and leaned forward, perching his elbows on the table then folding his arms. "Pardon him, he's not usually this much of an annoyance." Charlie tipped her head to the side. "What did he do?"

Alastor shook his head and straightened, immediately regaining his previous composure. "No matter, darling. Are you finished?" He gestured to her empty plate. Charlie beamed, clasping her hands together. "Yes! Thank you for the pancakes! They were delicious, Alastor!" She chimed. "I could eat your cooking all day!" The damsel leaned into her own shoulder as she squeezed her eyes shut and smiled brighter. Alastor lowered his focus onto her face. He laughed lightheartedly at her delightful persona.

Now, the radio demon may have been indifferent to many things he found sweet, but with way the young blonde expressed her gratitude, he was furthermore than willing to make an exception. "You are more than welcome." His voice held a deep sincerity to it that hung in the air. Charlie's pulse slowly escalated. Those deep pools of ruby gleamed for a second as they seemed to look right through her. Her cheeks heated up as her champagne orbs darted away. "Uh...th-thanks," she said with a low giggle slipping out of her. Alastor tilted his head as he smirked with amusement, his eyebrows furrowing.

Charlie's embarrassed laugh was quiet and carried a certain jingle to it that Alastor could not quite describe. His cold, dead heart proceeded to thaw once more. He leaned his elbows back on the table and folded his hands in front of his chin. "I do believe you already said that, dear," the stag pointed out with a smug expression. His guest squinted and tried to pout. "What are you getting at?" She huffed.

The words tumbled out before he thought twice.

"It's darling," Alastor hummed, his voice becoming void of all static.

The damsel gaped at the the King of Hell while the pigment on her skin bled across every part of her face and all the way to the tips of her ears. His eyes scanned her reaction closely. He did not understand why, but some reason, it was enjoyable to watch her. Her adorable response somehow made his chest feel lighter and ego soar higher. Somehow, having this effect on her made Alastor to feel powerful.

And like all other things that made the radio demon feel powerful, she was swiftly addicting him.

"Well, now, I think it's time for a song!" Alastor announced as he snapped away the dishes and trays while bouncing to his feet, his armed chair screeching back. Still unable to form a sentence, the blonde waited for him to go on. "Come along, chère!" The stag snatched his guest's hands before she flew out of her seat. She speechlessly complied as they dashed into the corridor where she was pulled along with him, only able to watch the deer demon's energy whisk her away all over again.

Before Charlie knew it, she was in the music room and saw Alastor quickly sit himself on the bench behind the polished grand piano. He straightened his monocle and somewhat smiled furthermore when his eyes met hers. "I have just the piece for you, ma chérie." His head dipped toward the keys so he could remove his gloves, and he placed them on the narrow shelf where a music book would rightfully go.

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]

His facet softened considerably as his long, slender fingers danced along the keys. Only hearing the first notes play had given Alastor such a gentle smile. She immediately recognized the stunning melody from Édith Piaf and Louis Armstrong. Her champagne eyes shone as he captured her attention.

This song was a classic.

And then she heard his voice.

"Quand il me prend dans ses bras,
Qu'il me parle tout bas,
Je vois la vie en rose~"

It was soft. It was sweet. It was...elegant.

"Il me dit des mots d'amour,
Des mots de tous les jours,
Et ça m'fait quelque chose,"

This was nothing like the last time. Nothing remotely like their previous fast paced, wild and lively duet together. This was something entirely new.

"Il est entré dans mon cœur,
Une part de bonheur,
Dont je connais la cause,"

Alastor took a short breath, then his eyes closed as he lost himself to the music, his tone blossoming into a unique kind of passion unbeknownst to Charlotte Magne.

"C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie,
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie,
Et dès que je l'aperçois,
Alors je sens en moi,
Mon cœur qui bat,"

His red eyes flicked up to Charlie's, and he faintly chuckled at her astonishment. He kept playing as his switched his gaze back to the keys. "Caught your ear, did it?" His ear twitched at the sound of her foot steps echoing through the vast room. "Well, you wouldn't recognize this one more than most, I suppose—" His eyebrows shot up as the demoness slid herself onto the spacious bench right beside him and effortlessly joined him on the piano in perfect sync. Alastor supposed he should not have been too surprised since she had informed him of growing up in a musically gifted family. He swallowed his observations and quickly cleared his throat.

"C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie,
Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie,"

'He's so beautiful...'

"Et dès que je l'aperçois,
Alors je sens en moi,
Mon cœur qui bat..."

As the radio demon held his final note, his voice steady and smooth, the blonde was hopelessly roped in. She locked her gleaming orbs onto his, and he almost immediately did the same.

That was when she did not believe there was a single evil thing about him.

Alastor's true colors had shone, radiating nothing but fiery passion—just like the crimson painting the walls all over the palace, just like his ever so bright eyes that glistened right through her, just like that deep burning heat spreading inside of her—

"Nothing like a good performance to set the stage for an evening, is there?" The radio demon broke the silence with his signature grin returning—the one that sent hellions running in terror, that is. Charlie broke their eye contact by suddenly leaned away until she was sitting up straight. She had not noticed she ceased playing before the song was over. She turned her head the other way as a blush crept onto her face again before internally panicking.

'Omigosh, how long was I staring did he even see it why was I leaning in like that did it bother him I can't believe I actually did that I look so stupid right now what do I do I don't even—'

"Come, my dear! There's a particular vintage I feel would be lovely to sample at this hour." Alastor abruptly stood up and reached for his leather gloves resting on the piano, then swiftly slipped them on. He paced to the French sofa and snapped his fingers. A small tea cart displaying a shining bottle of Sauternes with two polished crystal glasses set aside had magically appeared. Charlie was drawn from her daze and stiffly slid off the bench before trotting over.

The antique bottle was clearly aged, yet it looked brand new. It had a label she could not read or pronounce, and her eyebrows raised at the date 1847. "Can't have a perfectly good glass of Château d'Yquem without a perfectly good complimentary side. How about a small dessert, hm, Charlotte?" He peered over his shoulder at her with a close lipped grin and snapped his fingers again.

'How does he keep doing that in gloves?'

A small Sunday class filled with fresas con crema popped onto the tray as well. Stars shot out of the damsel's eyes as she saw the fruity delicacy of juicy strawberries and cream. "After you, chère." The radio demon gestured her to sit first. As she did so, she gasped with excitement and snatched the spoon from the glass. "Mercí beaucoup, Al!" She squealed. Her host's vivid orbs darted away. "Pas de problème, ma chérie," he said as his voice quieted a bit. The young blonde squinted at the bottle of wine. "Shatoh dee-what now?" Alastor cleared his throat and brought his shoulders back, taking a seat beside her. He reached forward and carefully grasped the vintage drink. "Ever heard of a Sauternes?"

Charlie put a finger to her lip. "Sounds familiar. My mom was very big on wine tasting, but I was never allowed to see her collection, so I don't know that much about that stuff," she sighed. Alastor arched an eyebrow, squinting his other eye, not seeming very pleased with her answer. He shrugged, then sent her a sly smirk. "Well, now, darling, all that is about to change. This, here, is a Château d'Yquem—translates to 'Castle of Yquem.' Whereas Yquem is a phonetic translation in Mandarin for 'drop of gold.'" Alastor handed her the bottle for observation so he could slip off his jacket, not halting on the topic as he was rapidly engrossed by it. "For a sweeter white wine, only this kind has a classification of premier cru supérieur—a rough translation to 'superior first growth.' It is quite literally in a league of its own—"

His eyes fell shut with his chin elevated as his hand movements were further exaggerated. Charlie slightly giggled at his noticeable pride of knowledge and glanced at the costly antique in her hands. She thought there was no one more well versed in collecting alcohol than her elitist mother, but she was proven wrong. The young demoness refocused on a rambling Alastor. She smiled faintly. It was nice to be included into things outside of her own world for a change. She was so used to being shut out from things that were little known to her, simply for the sake of liking other things that were too different for other people. Her parents distanced themselves from her more than necessary, blocking her out from their own daily lives while they waited for her to grow up, though it was hard to do when there was no one to show her how.

"—1847 was a lovely harvest for that year, indeed! I figured you would prefer something sweeter with a more fruity—well, now I shan't spoil it! Every experience of wine tasting is unique to each and every taster!"

Charlie felt something warm in her chest. It was so considerate of him to think of her. Her smile reached her eyes while they gleamed as well. "Tell me more, Alastor..." The stag's eyes lit up brighter yet as her request somehow fueled him with newfound energy. He gently took the bottle from her and effortlessly popped the cork with gloved hands. She cupped her mouth. "Pfft! Show off," she uttered under her breath. Alastor's long ears twitched until he swatted a hand. "You say that like it's a bad thing," he smoothly replied.

"It's not."

He was about to say something witty as he poured her glass first, but faltered as her words registered. Alastor chuckled, still faced away from her while pouring his own serving. "You flatter this old soul, Charlie." She paused as he turned to hand her the glittering piece of crystal. Her fingers encased his, and for a moment, they both hesitated when their gazes dropped. The King of Hell swiftly retracted, and retrieved his own drink. The demoness frowned. His glass was half full while hers had only a couple tablespoon's worth or so. "How come you gave me less?" She whined.

Alastor laughed at her tone. "Now, now, we don't want you under the influence, do we? Or have you forgotten you're forbidden to sin?" He responded with a teasing tone. "Furthermore, I am far from a lightweight, darling, though I'm sure I could easily conjure you some cheese for that WHINE—Ahahahah!!" His little guest rolled her eyes at her host's obnoxious chortles as he slapped his knee. "Oh, fine," she grumbled. She was just sick of feeling like a little kid. Then again, this is the first time a grown up offered her a drink...

She studied the warm colored liquid and was enchanted by it, eventually holding the glass up to the light. The wine was a deep amber mixed with gold undertones. "It's so pretty." Alastor folded a leg across his knee, reclining into the back cushions of the sofa. His smile calmed as he fixed his attention onto her. His crimson orbs took in the blonde damsel's pure marvel at the glass he poured for her. How could a girl like herself be so captivated by everything she saw in a situation such as her own? They were in the underworld for hell's sake. He mentally shrugged the thought away. He was not complaining. He found it rather refreshing. Everything Charlotte did was pure and new—it enraptured him, and at times, it was like he was not even in Hell anymore. Her champagne eyes danced in the light passing through the crystal.

Alastor silently tittered to himself. For once, in his never ending lifespan, he was not bored.

"Yes. It most certainly is."

Still holding up her wine, Charlie twisted her head to him and beamed as her eyes closed. Alastor's face remained neutral as he swallowed. His ears twitched, and he put a fist to his mouth. "Ahem...I propose a toast," he announced, his smile stretching wide again. The blonde lowered her glass, then tilted her head. "After all, what timing could be better, my dear?" The stag fixed his posture and raised his glass to her. "May you find your way into Heaven, and forever live in paradise," his radio filter emitted softly with a faint smile to match.

Charlie ran a hand through her long, messy waves, mirroring his smile with a sweet one of her own as their glasses carefully clinked. "Do you know how to properly wine taste, Charlie?" His deep, scarlet eyes remained fixated onto hers. She nodded partially as she gently swirled the wine around in her glass. Her long lashes fluttered shut as she slowly drew in a long breath through her nose. After seeing her own mom do it every evening at the table ever since she was in a high chair, she was determined to do it correctly in front of Alastor. She must have taken longer than she should have, because when she opened her eyes, the deer demon was already through a third of his portion, staring intently at the burnt caramel colored liquid as he drank with his eyebrows crinkled together.

He exhaled as he moved the drink away, then licked away some residue from the corner of his lips. Charlie's eyes lidded as she scanned the tip of his tongue flicking across his skin. It was a pale, sickly grey. The tip was long and narrow to a point like a demonic physique should be and seeing it in motion sent shivers down her spine. The sight was haunting.

It was like looking at a monster.

So, then, how come she wanted to see it again?

She hastily took a sip, the wine temporarily replacing her focus. Alastor cleared his throat again. "What do you think?" He eagerly asked. After hesitating, she set her glass on the tea cart. "It tastes...dark, but...warm..." Her eyes automatically drifted to Alastor's. "It's alcohol, so it's bitter, though once you look past that, it's actually a lot sweeter than what someone would be expecting," the demoness proceeded, her voice lowering. The ruby gem-like orbs of his became harder to ignore. "There's this toasted caramel flavor I really like, a tiny bit of honey—maybe something like peaches. It's tart and bittersweet...but so addicting." Her gaze fell to his lips, and she heard him swallow. She glimpsed at his eyes again.

Alastor was astounded by the young girl before him. They were almost shoulder to shoulder, and Charlotte was inching toward him, but that was not what bothered him. His eyebrows scrunched with bewilderment as his attention went to her almost empty glass, then back onto her. Her scleras were a blazing red, and her pupils had inverted to her usual shade of champagne. The radio demon feigned a laugh that came out measly as he cautiously took her drink from the cart, emptying whatever remnants left into his own empty one. "Alrighty, my dear, I believe that's quite enough for an evening, wouldn't you say?" He lightly chortled, placing his index finger on her nose to push her back, then taking another swig of his drink.

The damsel's vibrant eyes crossed while she watched his finger retract. She blinked, and once she had, her eyes had returned to normal as if nothing had happened.

"Hey, that's all I had," she complained.

"And it is far more than you need," he mumbled into his glass as he slouched back into the sofa.

"Whatever," she grumbled. She crossed her arms and leaned into the cushions next to him. She shifted her neck sideways to look up at Alastor, when suddenly his shadow appeared next to the arm of the furniture, snatching the Sauternes to refill his glass half full again. The King of Hell did not stop him, only raising a brow at the dark entity of himself.

Then Charlie remembered the picture she found in the abandoned study. The one that showed the stag full of unfamiliar life and joy when he was beside that mystery demon with him after a night out.

"Who was that?"

She instantly bit her lip. Her eyes widened at her slip up. After visiting that room and witnessing Alastor's bad side firsthand—at least what she thought was his bad side—she regretted even thinking about it. Her teeth pressed on her onyx lips even harder, until she winced with a whimper. Her host sat up to inspect the blood trailing down her chin. The blonde had forgotten she had fangs now—a perfect reminder of what she had become. Alastor passed off his glass to his shadow, then reached into his vest pocket to withdraw his blood red handkerchief. After pressing it to the end of the open bottle of alcohol, he finally dipped it forward and back, placing it back on the tea cart, and turned to face her again.

He lowered his gaze and tenderly smudged off the blood from Charlotte's chin with the damp cloth. "Who is what now?" He inquired, tilting his head, though remaining concentrated on the task at hand. "I thought I introduced you two already." His shadow behind him put the back of its hand to its head while leaning back, pretending to be offended. "No, I—" The demoness cried out at the sting that hit her bottom lip.

"Apologies, darling. T'is necessary for such precautions. Go on, now. You were saying?" Alastor said quietly. She sighed through her nose and averted his face. "I just...meant..." He pulled away to neatly fold the handkerchief before tucking it away in his front pocket, then his eyes flashed to hers. He accepted his wine from his shadow, then attentively swirled it as he got lost in the movement of the amber fluid. "A friend...Was a friend."

Charlie silently gasped. Her eyes were large with pity, but she did not dare say another word.

"Husker was his name—referred to him as Husk for short," he lightly exhaled. "That photograph you saw, it was only less than a century ago, you know. Only thirty years..." Alastor trailed, his eyes distancing as if it had happened yesterday. His smile shrank, looking mild, but pleasant, reminding her of the Mona Lisa.

Those eyes told an entirely different story.

Otis appeared beside his master's other half, resting his little arms on the arm rest next beside the King of Hell, who did not pay him any mind. "He was grumpy and vulgar with a bad cattitude, quick to anger and he always insulted whoever spoke to him—such a delight to be around!" Charlie would have thought he was being sarcastic until she saw how his grin brightened somewhat. "He was ever the feline, and it was quite entertaining to be around him at times! Good ole Husker was quite the amusement—lazy and a good for nothing drunk—all the more fun to push his buttons and pull him around every which way!" He laughed almost joyfully. The blonde looked at him strangely.

"Yes, sir-y, we've had our share of antics and escapades." He paused to take a sip. "It may have seemed one sided, but it never bothered me. It became expected routine pretty fast, this clashing dynamic that formed. I ruffled his feathers constantly, yet I was the only one who bothered to stick around, you know? Although, he grew tired of me—he never liked to show it—but I knew he preferred the company over remembering the shell of a man that was left of himself."

Charlie had delved into her dessert she nearly forgot about as her host went on. Even though the batches of strawberries used this time were tart, the creamer was thick and smooth with rich, sweet flavors melting on her tongue. She crossed her legs as she comfortably snacked  and listened intently.

It definitely sounded odd, this push and pull bond the radio demon described, but...it was strangely kind of thoughtful if she tried to look past the surface. "We met in this small, tucked away bar in the fifth pentagram where I saw him bartending already drunk before six. Despite this being a place of far worse sin, it was such an ironic sight, I suppose you could say my interest was piqued. He really was a humorous fellow. As easy as he was to antagonize, strangely enough, it was also impossible to get under his skin in certain ways, but I always like a challenge." Alastor's shadow nodded evilly as it refilled his crystal glass.

To Charlie's own surprise and relief, his spirits had actually lifted despite how depressing the subject seemed to be for him, at first. But she had thought too soon.

"Ever since that evening, I revisited every other night at the same time. Sometimes we would visit for hours, going back and forth with petty banter—his vulgar insults and my witty charm. He was always fed up with something. Didn't even like it whenever I called him Husker, but...he never once bothered objecting whenever I referred to him as a friend. It was one of the few things he was indifferent to whenever I came his way. It spoke volumes on his part—that I know," Alastor sighed. He hesitated as he crossed his arms, still staring at his glass. Otis laid his chin in his crossed arms as he listened with sad eyes.

"The one thing I sensed we had in common...was what laid behind his forced drunken nature. It was to escape his own watchful eyes that knew too much."

The stag's little guest opened her mouth, but he did not notice. His shadow's ears tilted back as it smiled painfully at the story.

"What...do you mean by that?"

"It means there are some who are too clever for their own good, my dear. If those souls aren't built with the stamina to keep themselves preoccupied, they simply slowly descend into their own madness as Husker did."

"I'm not sure if I get it..." Charlie trailed off, narrowing her eyes at nothing in particular as she attempted to wrap her mind around the concept.

"Believe me. It's better that way."

Charlie winced at his words, unable to read his tone.

"Anyhow, it's why he was as fascinating as he was. But good things never last, now do they..." His voice lowered.

The King of Hell stopped himself and emptied the rest of his drink in a single gulp. His eyes perked right up before closing tightly as his smile stretched wider than necessary. "Speaking of which, I see your treat is already gone as well! Was it to your liking, ma chérie?"

She stared at his cheerful expression, and her face fell. Her champagne orbs saddened, and she bit her sore lip, but hardly so, this time. Alastor's eyes snapped open to the sight of a blonde mess of curls buried into him. His arms awkwardly raised apart from her, unsure of what to do as Charlotte embraced his torso snuggly, yet unexpectedly. He heard a sniffle escape from the emotional girl on his chest. His own ears twisted backwards before lowering somewhat, and his grin shrank as his eyes had downcast.

"I-it...it was great, Al. Thank you so...so much," she choked into his vest, clinging to him tighter. "Thank you for everything." She did not have to say it. That she understood his tale was sad. That she was sorry for him. And that it made her sad too.

Alastor's eyebrows wrinkled before one lifted at her weeping, hidden form. He scarcely laughed, his ears bending further back. "Now, now, why the long face, darling chère?" The radio demon asked. "There's no reason for such a charming demon belle to cry, is there?" He rested a tense palm to the top of her head, then slowly smoothed down her hair before repeating. "I understand times are tough, but I swear to you it will be alright. Everything will turn out as long as you keep pulling through. As long as you remember to wear that lovely smile, it will all be just fine and dandy..." He quietly spoke, more to himself than the demoness sighing contently into his chest with his other arm loosely draped around her.

Alastor's ears gradually returned to an upright position as he felt her breathing become slow and steady. He tilted his head as he bent down to examine her peaceful self. Charlotte was fast asleep. His brow line almost frowned at the thought of the young thing crying herself into a deep slumber. He frowned and rubbed one of his temples. The overwhelming toll everything must have been taking on her...

There was no need for her to cry for him...especially him. It all would pull her apart far too quickly. His grip on her tightened as his eyes darkened. Just a fraction of eternity down there would have an innocent young girl like her ripping at the seams in no time. The deer demon's face contorted into one of bewilderment. He never had someone cry for him before. It was certainly something new—that was for sure.

'Something new...'

His stare softened at the blonde damsel's sleeping form in his arms as the thought went from disturbing to comforting. He exhaled again as his smile became gentler. "Come now, Charlotte. It's been a long day. We should get you to bed." Alastor shooed the onlooking shadows away with a swat of his hand has he carefully stood, using a free arm to scoop her up under the legs so he could carry her properly. He glanced from the corner of his eye at her as she stirred in her sleep, gripping the fabric of his vest. His neck bent down, causing his fringe to fall into his eyes as he examined her calm demeanor. His tender smile extended.

His shoes then noiselessly carried her across the music room and into the long hallway, until his graceful steps reached the spiraled, black marble staircase. When they finally arrived to the floor of their private chambers, the stag effortlessly made his way through the corridor, his feet taking them slower and slower toward the demoness' room. By the time Alastor was at her doorway, his footsteps had come to a crawl, prolonging his arrival to her bedside. He quietly snapped his fingers, almost flinching when she moved her head, and the blankets folded themselves to allow space. After gently laying her down, he swiftly untied her boots and slipped them off, then left them on the floor at the foot of her bed. The King of Hell snapped his fingers again, and her dress and stockings transformed into a satin, pastel pink nightgown that went to her ankles.

He carefully tucked her in under the sheets and comforter in the dark room, the only light shining in from the hallway. He then sat down on the edge of her mattress as he on-looked her motionless body. Her golden hair was spilled across her face. Alastor could not resist brushing it out of the way as he leaned over her. "Bonne Nuit, Charlotte," the stag murmured. He bent down and left a lingering kiss on her forehead as his own tired eyes fell shut for a moment. Once he withdrew, he ran his fingers through her strands of hair one last time. "Sweet dreams, ma chère."

He got to his feet and made his way to her door, admiring the innocent, slumbering blonde in the bed over his shoulder one last time as his hand slid onto the doorknob. Alastor hesitated while his Charlotte's unconscious form remained in his view. He blinked, then shut her door tight. He leaned against the door in the hallway, pressing his fingers to his temple as he had a flashback.

'Those eyes...'

The way Charlotte's large eyes had flickered to a blood red for moment...and the way they were feasting upon him...what the hell was that? Alastor covered his mouth as a shudder tingled through him. For a moment, he could have sworn she ogled at his lips for a sheer tenth of a second. He squinted. The longer he thought about it, the more the events from that evening confused him. It was unsettling. There was something off about that charming demon belle; he knew it since the moment he invited her to stay at the palace with him, but it was too trivial of a matter at the time. Ever since it became more apparent, there appeared to be a sort of aura leaking out of her, like when she was taking her oh so sweet time drinking in the smell of her Château d'Yquem. It took far more willpower than it should have to rip his wide eyes off of her. At that second, there was something not only fascinating, but also...enchanting about her.

It would have been so much easier to identify the source if she had the mark of a sinner, but because of her innocence, that unnerving scent was as weak as hell. Her pure persona concealed it incredibly well, yet that somehow made it all the more pleasant to experience.

Alastor sighed and rubbed his tired eyes while he wandered away from her doorpost and toward his own master suite at the end of the corridor. The circles under his eyes were darker than usual. After telling himself he was overthinking it, he entered his room. It was the wine. Nothing more.

He rubbed his face, then studied his perfectly made, king sized bed. He frowned and swiped a finger across the covers, only to inspect a thin layer of dust on his glove. It had already been a week since he last touched it. On average he slept one to two hours at a time—three if he was lucky. The last time he awoke rejuvenated was after a solid slumber of a whopping four and a half hours. Alastor could not sleep due to willpower or basic fatigue. So, he often drifted off at the desk in his study, or on the sofa by the fireplace in the parlor from being overworked or out of complete exhaustion. He once woke up on the piano keys.

The radio demon threw back the comforter, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. It looked to be another sleepless night.

Charlotte Magne was screaming at the top of her lungs an hour later.

Her door slammed open with the King of Hell wearing a gaze ready to kill. Talons of blazing carmine had shredded through his gloves, antlers multiplied tenfold casted shadows of thorns in the moonlight, and a set of blood red eyes burned in the shadows before they began to flicker into channeling static.

Charlie's shrieked heightened at the startling sight. She pulled her covers to her shoulders on her bed where she was sitting upright and wailing. Tears pooled in her eyes and ran down her face. She dropped her head in her hands with a shiver.

Realizing there was no external threat, the radio demon withdrew a deep breath as he unhooked his claws from her doorpost. He took a moment to calm himself as he paced over while his antlers undone themselves and reverted to their normal size. Alastor tucked his hands behind his back as he tried to will his red talons away. Bursting in like that certainly did not solve whatever had terrified her, after all, he knew very well the full effect his monstrous half had on other demons.

Thankfully, he had not fully transformed.

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He had blinked out the static, trying to concentrate on his glowing orbs as he arrived beside her, listening to her sob. "...Charlotte?" He tried to say in his softest voice. He was not sure she even heard him over her loud cries until she uncovered her face to look up as him. He wished he could force his self-nightlight off, but his eyes were the one thing he had no control over in the dark. Aside from the full moon pouring light through the French doors on her balcony, it was fairly dim in the damsel's chamber, but that made no difference to Alastor, who could see her red puffy eyes perfectly with her gleaming tears everywhere.

He reached for her until he suddenly halted. Charlie sniffled as her view lowered to his shrinking talons that had not quite went away yet. He inhaled as he promptly tucked them out of sight again. "Apologies for coming in such a manner, my dear—a scream like that only has someone like myself thinking the worst...." He uttered, casting away his sharp gaze. The crying demoness was overcome with guilt. She saw him get angry before, yet this was different somehow. He appeared more threatening than she had ever seen, but there was not a bone in his body upset with her. He probably thought she was being attacked. "I'm sorry..." She whimpered. Her bottom lip trembled. Another waterfall was released. "I-I woke you up...d-didn't I...?"

"Nonsense, darling," he hushed as he eased himself onto her bed and crossed his legs over the edge, looking at her over his shoulder. He meant to ask her permission to sit, but somehow forgotten as soon as she started to tear up again. "I already once told you on the first night; I'm always awake if you ever need anything." Alastor gently patted her on the head, his claws almost gone.

"Don't you sleep?" She gasped, her wide glassy eyes fixing onto his with newfound concern. He stiffened. His heart had stammered at her question. "Occasionally," he only replied.

"How are you always so...full of energy??"

The stag opened his mouth, but paused. His hand slid off her head, and his fingers stroked through her rich, golden locks.

"I'm not."

His taken aback guest stared at him agape.

"But wh—"

"—Anyhow, what had you so full of fright at this hour, hm, ma chère?" He inquired quietly, scooting closer and slipping an arm around her shoulders. She had so much on her plate. He dipped his head down and reached a knuckle forward to tenderly wipe a new tear streaming from her eye. "Was it a nightmare?"

A chill crept down Charlie's backbone, then she shifted to tremble into Alastor's chest, latching onto his burgundy vest. The deer demon absentmindedly smoothed his other hand up and down her back in calming motions. "Would....you like to discuss it, dear?" He murmured into her mess of hair. He felt her draw in a long, shaky breath, then let it out just the same.

"Someone killed me, Alastor..."

Ik I've been dead forever since shit happened but I think I might be at risk for a panic attack disorder, because now I can't even take my long term meds or a couple kids vitamins without ODing or losing my shit so been living my life in my sleep because all that Xanax eventually gets to ppl.

I want to keep updating and even though it felt pointless and I missed charlastor week (yet again T-T) you guys really deserve more and I haven't been that pleased with the design changes (I hate Alastor's sue me) so need a pick me up/distraction.

Pls vote or comment—I love your feedback it makes me smile 😄!

~ Sapphire out