** 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 **

Charlie squinted and bit her tongue. Alastor tenderly took hold of one of her heels, reflexively laying his palm flat on the base of all her slashes as he studied with deep concentration. "...What are you doing?" She exhaled before harshly tugging on her hair. The stag blinked rapidly. What was he doing?

He lost the ability to heal almost a hundred millenium ago. While he was well aware of that, he never had any rhyme or reason to use such a talent after the fall...until now. Had it really been that long since he last attempted it on another? Of course, he possessed the power of self regeneration, after all, he was an all-powerful demon and Ruler of Hell.

Alas, his forgotten angelic gifts had diminished long ago.

Charlie was about to ask again, but the far gone look in her host's eyes stopped her. He seemed to be a million miles away. All of a sudden, he was brought back to reality. "Just...checking the injury...it's nothing, my dear..." Alastor mumbled more to himself than anything. He slipped off his jacket and cast it aside, where his shadow effortlessly caught it. After rolling up his sleeves, he whirled around only to step on more broken glass. "Dammit," he muttered under his breath. Charlie's eyebrows shot up. Sure, Alastor was a demon, but she never heard him swear before today. Come to think of it, he was swearing a lot for his usual composure around her. He scraped some bloody shards out of his path with his shoe, then snapped the mess out of existence.

If only he had not been so damn distracted like a fool, he would never have been such a moronic klutz around her.

The King of Hell shook his head as he rolled his sleeves to wash his hands at the sink with his backside to the demoness. Today, underneath his overcoat was a matte, charcoal vest paired with a blood red button up. She instantly perked up at the view of his duo colored tail that matched perfectly with his outfit. She wishfully reached forward, but there was a large distance between them, and she was practically cripple. That, and it clearly was not a good time to push Al's buttons. She shamefully covered her chest again when he returned, drying his hands with a fresh towel until he fixed his sleeves to wrist length, once again.

If she was not the dumb, ditzy blonde she constantly was, she would have never worn that bright of a bra with a light shirt like the one she chose. Not only had she caused them both severe embarrassment, but walked on sharp glass without thinking all because she let Alastor get the best of her nerves. Yet, here he was tending to her as if he was the one responsible. He summoned a medical kit, hurriedly opening it and preparing a cloth soaked with a liquid from an onyx vial.

Charlie almost apologized, yet she bit her lip, reassessing the scene in her head. Alastor was always so prim and proper, and a well put together gentlemen, not to mention, smooth and graceful. Despite her throwing him off to that extent, it was majorly out of character for him to create a scene like that—breaking dishes in front of a guest and whatnot. He was also very moody as well...Did he maybe think it was his own fault? Did he perhaps see himself as...clumsy...?

"Please, don't blame yourself," she softly requested while lightly laying a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think either of us...were exactly in a clear headspace, today...you know?" Alastor gazed at her with surprise as his movements came to a halt. "It'll heal, anyway. Besides, if it scars, it's not like anyone will see them on the bottom on my feet, right?" The young damsel dotted her two forefingers together. "So...truce?" She offered, extending a hand toward him. The radio demon's attention drifted down to her palm. Her point of view did make perfect sense.

Despite it not relieving any of her pain, it was somewhat of a relief she possessed no sour feelings toward him. It was also comforting to see her apply complete logic to a situation, rather than apologizing over and over on a whim as she normally did. She was learning.

His grim smile progressively widened a bit, then he gingerly accepted her small hand shake. The petite blonde observed their insignificant exchange, but she felt there was more happening underneath the surface somewhere. Alastor's hands were as cold, scrawny, and discolored as she remembered since the last time he unveiled them. Though, no matter how icy his touch may have been, it did not fail to make Charlie warm.

She almost pouted once he broke contact to carefully grasp her foot again, applying the sterile cloth to a cut. His focus drifted to his current task, and she caught herself admiring the expression of depthual engrossment upon his warm facet. He really was attractive...

"Ow—!"

"Je suis désolé, Charlotte. I promise I will make it up to you."

"Oh, you really don't have to—"

"I would like to, darling," he said with a kind smile, delicately wrapping her last foot. "I was already going to offer you assistance with your baking, but I am sure I'll figure something out." The bandages encased around the base of each extremity, also around some of her ankles to ensure they would stay put. The King of Hell snapped his fingers and the first aid kit was gone. He adjusted his monocle, glancing at the recipe his guest had chosen. "I must say, dear, you've done a wonderful job of gathering everything. Honestly, I'm surprised you were able to find it all in that cluttered mess of a storage room. It would of taken me ages to locate all of this, had I not summoned it." He gestured to the ingredients beside Charlie on the countertop. He did appear to be genuinely impressed. She could not resist beaming up at him. His praise given to her hard work felt so foreign and alien, nevertheless, it was heart warming.

Alastor rested the cookbook in her open lap where she accepted it. He meant to look her in the eyes, but his focus was stuck on her chest instead. He ripped away his glare. Annoyance filled his expression as he fought the instinct to flush. He snapped his fingers.

Charlie made a funny look on her face before she pulled on her collar to peer under her shirt, noticing her undergarment had transformed from hot pink to pearly white like her skin. She audibly gasped while she blushed vividly. Her head snapped up to meet Alastor's hesitant gaze. He slightly nodded to himself in approval. "Much better," he sighed. The blonde succubus crossed her arms, her short nails digging into her sleeves. "I...y-you know, um, uh..."

She unfolded her arms so she could start tugging on her thick curls. Alastor raised his eyebrows in expectance. "Yes?" His guest shrank from his full attention on her. She released a long breath. "You...you...you could have j-just...changed the color of my shirt...that, um...would have worked too..."

Alastor's grin lengthened awkwardly as his large orbs filled with panic at his mistake. A rosy hue stained his grey cheeks, his shadow slipping up behind Charlotte to mock him from beyond her shoulder. The dark figure waggled its eyebrows with an enormous smirk glowing from its black form. His master was tempted to scowl at him, but he did not want the young damsel to mistake him for directing it toward her instead. The stag pressed his shoulders back, then folded an arm behind him, uncomfortably tugging on his tightened bow tie with the other. It was incredibly outlandish to witness the great King of Hell fidgeting—especially in front of a lady. He cleared his throat before forcing himself to meet her eye level as the lovely demoness bit her lip. Alastor wrestled with the urge to disappear. His suit was too stuffy. He was about to remove his jacket, only to remember he already had. The temptation to roll up the cuffs of his sleeves was overwhelming, but the idea of it instantly felt nerve racking.

The radio demon despised exposing skin when it was not necessary, but this degree of self awareness was a bit excessive for him. Realizing this did nothing to help his situation. He drew his attention to his fiddling fingers that had almost undone his tie by now. He hastily fixed it with both bare hands. Bare hands. His lids closed as he carefully inhaled with a casual snap of his fingers. Charlotte tilted her head sideways when the leather gloves beside her disappeared and reformed on Alastor.

He slapped on a flawless facade of proper composure, shifting his arm against his back as he brought a fist to his mouth. "I...deeply regret my actions, my dear. Please accept my humblest apologies, for I was not thinking clearly. I promise I shall not violate you as such, again." Alastor respectfully bowed his head to conceal his fading blush. Out of habit, he gently took her by the hand and laid a chaste kiss on her knuckles.

Charlie strived for a response, but failed to make it beyond a couple of pitiful stutters. She focused intensely on her pale hand that was held, oh, so, delicately by him. The peck was not as quick as it normally was in his goodnight kisses to her. It lingered for a short while, merely seconds, but seconds for Charlie felt like an eternity. An eternity of pure misery. She gazed longingly toward her hand.

Alastor was so close, yet so far away.

His eyelashes were much more noticeable to the beautiful damsel when his orbs persisted to be shut. They were thin and fine, but prolonged with a soft auburn. Additionally, his lips were warm, to the blonde's surprise, unlike his hands. And unlike his hands, they scalded her bewitchingly. Alastor's lips were smooth. Alastor's lips were careful, they were graceful—

'I wish that hand were my lips...'

Her daydreams lamented the instant he was finished. He flashed her a charming grin like nothing happened. His razor sharp teeth gleamed in the sunlight. Charlie wondered what they felt like. Were they as dangerous as they looked? Did he often cut his own tongue on them? How easily could they pierce flesh?

'What would it feel like...?'

"Here are instructions, ma chère," Alastor began, setting the open cookbook on the space beside her. The demoness yanked her wandering fingers from the side of her neck, blinking away her daze. "First, combine all the dry ingredients in here." He pointed to a mixing bowl on her left. She patted her cheeks and reminded herself to breathe when the King off Hell was talking to her.

He easily developed a system for the two of them. He would fill the measuring cups one by one, where his guest would shortly combine them in the right bowls and mix them thoroughly. Alastor's hands smoothly chopped up the fresh persimmons faster than the wide eyed blonde could process. His technique and precision was perfection. In less than a minute, every piece of fruit was finely diced into cubes all the exact same size.

"You're so amazing..." Charlie awed. Al's ear flicked upright as his eyes met hers in surprise, returning the blade to the cutting board.

'Shit, I said that out loud?!!'

"W-with a knife!" She shouted.

'Nailed it.'

Alastor's movement paused, his core body temperature mildly rising. He took a second to clear his throat then chuckled. "Oh, this is nothing," the radio demon casually brushed off. The awkward blonde knew that look. It was the same puffed up posture a peacock would have when it was about to show off its feathers. "As a matter of fact, I'm an expert butcher. You should really see me at work with a cleaver." His grin elongated into a flashier one.

'Not after dusk, of course...'

"Then, maybe you'll be able to see my point!" He exclaimed, laughing at his own pun. The unseen audience joined him in the background, the source of the noise coming from his microphone that was still leaning upon the wall. "Wait until I show you my new cutlery; you'll certainly find it to be cutting edge." When a jingly laugh slipped out of Charlie, her host perked up with pride at his newest victory. Alastor's jokes were funny, but the way he constantly laughed at his own wisecracks and looked so proud of himself for the smallest puns was funnier.

"I believe it," she giggled. His pompous attitude never failed to amuse her. She then lined the cupcake tin with filters and neatly dabbed each one with a dollop of batter. "You can do anything." Thinking this would please her kitchen partner, she observed with concern when his demeanor deflated. The stag wordlessly accepted the muffin tray she held out and spun away from the lovely damsel to put it in the oven. His brows furrowed as he reminisced for a minute with his interest firmly fixed on the bare stovetop. "Not anything, darling." His voice was quiet and steady.

He rested his palms on the edge and leaned into it before glimpsing over his shoulder. His radiant eyes narrowed at her injuries. "What do you mean, Al?" The maiden was a poor helpless thing to start with—anyone could see that. To catch her in a state such as this, she was as defenseless as a wounded lamb.

'I can't save you.'

Alastor had no divine influence. Not anymore. He could not rescue Charlotte from her fate, nor heal her, nor protect her innocence from corruption in a domain like the underworld. At least, not forever. He recollected their first encounter for the umpteenth time, constantly noticing something new each and every flashback. Who was he kidding? The innocent soul had witnessed unspeakable things during her first five minutes down there, all thanks to him. If the radio demon had only noticed who she was sooner, he would have spared her the disgusting display he created. His orbs enlarged.

He traumatized her.

"Alastor, what's wrong?" Charlotte inquired. She bit her lip with worry painting her face. "You look ill..." That was one way of putting it. He felt it, too, among many other things he never experienced before. Or maybe they were forgotten. Either way, it was not hard to identify these strange and horrible emotions. Worry. Self loathing. Guilt.

A telephone ring interrupted his episode.

It was echoing through static emanating from his staff. As if it was only a trance, the deer demon sparked back to life and snatched his jacket from his shadow, slipping it on and buttoning it up. He slipped into character and sent her a dazzling smile that would have fooled anyone. "If you'll excuse me, ma chérie, duty calls!" He sang, dramatically throwing out his arms. "I'll be back in a jiffy, so no need to vex your darling self about getting those muffins out." Charlotte jolted as he playfully dotted her nose after snatching his microphone.

She extended her hand. "Alastor, wait—!" But the stag had melted into a shadow before she could finish. She slumped her shoulders, lacing her fingers together. "Sometimes, you scare me...you're suffering so much," she softly admitted to the empty room. "And I wish I really knew why."

Alastor had rematerialized from the shadow of the French chair behind his desk before he started the usual routine. Jacket off and draped on the back of the seat, gloves on the desktop, earpiece to the candlestick phone in hand, and a burning cigar with the aid of his lit finger as he lounged in the chair. "Alastor, King of Hell, speaking," he answered enthusiastically. He twirled his cigar around his fingers with ease, watching the smoke circle up from it. "Ah, another report? What will it be?" The deer demon picked up his twenty four karat gold fountain pen from its display stand and prepared some clean parchment paper. "Red light district? I certainly hope this is worthy of my attention. You are well aware of the consequences for disturbing me if it is not..." His voice briefly trailed into deeper static as he awaited a response.

"Wonderful!" His response reverted to a chipper tone as if nothing was wrong. He half heartedly wrote a single word down. He quickly lost interest in the conversation of the nervous caller on the other line. Alastor swiped his golden pocket watch that was laid on the desk, glowering at the time. The muffins had five minutes left. The King of Hell sharply inhaled from the cigar. He did not bother to hide his annoyance as he huffed out a cloud of smoke. "That is of no concern to me, and I have far more important matters to attend to. You have ten seconds," he interrupted. He was about to cap his pen and send out his shadow minions to maul the idiot that dare disturb someone of his stature with his packed schedule until they had their way with them. Surely the lowly scum that took away his time with Charlotte—no, the time with his Charlotte—rather, his time with his Charlotte—

Alastor grit his teeth and facepalmed himself. All the chaos this week had his brain overly jumbled. Even his own thoughts were in disarray.

Something was mumbled from the caller. The radio demon straightened in his spot. His interest was suddenly piqued. "Valentino, you say?" The name fell off his tongue with revulsion. "...Ah...That is a problem. And after I had specifically forbade him." He peeked at his pocket watch a second time. It was one thirty. "I suppose this calls for a contract. Come to the bayou of the wrath ring in exactly two hours. I won't wait." 

Charlotte jumped when she felt a tap on her left shoulder. She twisted to that direction, but no one was there. "Hello, dear~" She gasped after she turned to the right, where she abruptly bumped noses with Alastor. She blushed a bright red, but her host only pulled away with a carefree laugh as he touched the tip of his nose. She arched an eyebrow. 'He's feeling better...strange...I guess it doesn't matter why, as long he is happy...' The young blonde instinctively reflected his smile. She noted he removed his jacket again, as well as his gloves. "How was your phone call?" She automatically asked, offering the stag an oven mitt.

Charlie focused on his brighter mood. "Sounds like it went good?" The deer demon was humming to himself, sliding the mitt on prior to taking the steaming muffins out. "Dreadfully!" He chirped, setting the tray on the stovetop to cool. Charlie watched him oddly. "You could have fooled me." Alastor cocked his head and swatted his hand at her with a chortle. "Oh, nothing more than hellish politics; they'll bore you to death. It's just an overlord out of line, nothing more. I regret to inform you I have to go out later to take care of the matter. I hope you don't mind, dearest."

Butterflies fluttered around in the young blonde's stomach, but she managed to act casual. "Oh, so, um...what's an overlord?"

"One of many ranks on Hell's hierarchy. You have the lowly sinners and hell spawns—bottom feeders, if anything. They're all the same to me. Above the unwashed masses, are the overlords—only demons that won a name for themselves by trivial battles amongst their bickering of territory. They're much more powerful than the civilians down here, but nothing of more importance than what you might refer to as gang leaders," Alastor derided, plucking out the burning hot baked goods from the tray before stacking them perfectly on a glass serving plate. "Next, are the demons of Ars Goetia. Think of them as established nobility. Unlike overlords, they haven't earned their titles or worked a day in their lives—those useless leeches," he scoffed with a roll of his eyes.

Charlie blinked, landing a finger on her lips. "That's it? Doesn't anyone work for you? You can't possibly manage an entire world all by yourself; that would be exhausting!" She fussed while crossing her arms. Alastor simply gave her a toothless grin, absorbing her reaction with slight endearment. She peculiarly reminded him of a mother hen, for a minute. "Well, you are half correct. It does get tiresome, but believe it or not, I am actually a bit of a control freak. The closest thing there is to management beneath me are the remaining seven deadly sins. They are the strongest demons, otherwise; all of them fallen angels..." The A word captured his guest's fascination. Alastor scooped up the platter, then hesitated after remembering Charlotte's situation. He changed his mind and put the dish back.

"Up-sie, daisy!" He sang, sweeping the stunned  demoness from the countertop and into his arms. She was reclined back into his gentle, yet snug hold, batting her eyelashes up at him with a startled face. He was cradling her. Alarm bells blared in Charlie's mind. Her heart would not stop pounding. Her cheeks colored brightly once she felt Alastor's own heart carefully beating against her ear from underneath his sturdy chest. His glittering orbs fixiated on hers, having her gasp and slap her palms on top of her entire face. The fluffy, airy high inside of her was whisking her away from reality.

'Oh, no...'

The alarm bells were swiftly replaced with the deafening drums of her pulse. It was all she could hear, so for a beat, she feared that with those enormous ears of his, Alastor could also hear it. Luckily, it was only her paranoia grabbing the wheel.

Although, that did not stop the stag from detecting it another way. His heightened animalistic senses had no trouble feeling her blood pulsating into him. Her temperature was rising, therefore emitting extra heat into him. His body instantaneously absorbed the succubus' warmth like one who's been starved of a furnace in an eternal winter. His exposed fingers subconsciously curled around a shin of hers more so.

He was an icicle, and she, a blazing fire slowly melting through him.

The King of Hell wisely chose not to acknowledge it. He swallowed, soon clearing his throat. His guest peeked up at him through her fingers. If he did notice, he did a remarkable job of hiding it. Or it did not bother him. Yeah, she liked the second one better. Her shoulders relaxed, and he proceeded to leave the room with her, carrying on the topic like nothing happened. She almost forgot what they were talking about.

"Ironically, there are only four left, but everyone still insists on calling them the seven," the radio demon laughed as he led them outside through a set of doors she never saw before. They emerged into the gorgeous garden and down the stone path they explored yesterday. Alastor continued his lecture on demonic hierarchy. "There are seven domains of Hell referred to as rings. We are in the second. Despite myself ruling over all of them, each deadly sin was given their own designated domain to manage, but since there's only a handful left, that's where yours truly comes in." He proudly lifted his chin. The duo had just stopped at a section of landscape Charlie had not seen yet. Black iron intertwined like vines and sprawled outward to support a translucent circle of polished obsidian for a table top. A lone matching iron chair stood idly. The stag snapped his fingers, creating a twin chair across from it with the exception of a decorative silk cushion . "Above all else, that leaves moi in charge," he flaunted.

He delicately eased her into the empty seat. "Are you uncomfortable, ma chère? Shall I go fetch some ice for your pain? Perhaps, some refreshments?" Alastor eagerly pressed, clasping his hands together. She opened her mouth. "Oh, what about willow bark tea? That's excellent for pain relief, you know. Willow bark was once used to make aspirin," he rambled. Charlie ducked her head with a bashful smile. All of his attention on her was incredibly uplifting. "It's...not so noticeable if my feet don't touch anything, but..." Her gaze drifted upward to the hopeful deer demon. He awaited for her answer readily and keenly, his ears standing straight up in high alert. His offer may not have sounded like it was stemming from guilt or anxiety, though if she did not know any better (she did), Al appeared to enjoy waiting on her.

Her sentence died off during her examination of him, and just as quickly, the stag's ears sank forward. He folded his hands behind his back, standing taller. "Well, if you don't need anything, be sure to let me know when you do, sweethear—" The young demoness grinned politely and pressed her palms together, tipping her head over. "On second thought, the tea is a great idea! I'll try that." His expression brightened after his ears perked up. "Marvelous! Enjoy, mon étoile."

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Alastor clapped twice. An old fashioned, metallic-onyx teapot formed on the table with two filled teacups on tea plates, along with another set of larger, empty plates. The dish of one dozen muffins was also prepared. "Lovely day, isn't it, darling?" He sighed contently. There was not a cloud in the blazing red sky, and for mid October, it was fairly nice out accompanied with minor humidity. "Yes, it is," Charlie agreed. A peaceful smile made its way across her lips as she viewed another planted row of scarlet roses colored the same shade as Alastor's dazzling eyes. The mental comparison had her beaming bigger. There were so many irresistible things they reminded her of; roses and rubies, strawberries and apples—

"It's not polite to stare," he teased as a smirk crept up on him.

Charlie stiffened while her heart stopped. Gah! She was totally just checking him out! She was planning to desperately apologize, but her brain had another idea. A better idea— one that was definitely not what the old Charlie would have done. She bravely kept her attention latched onto the amused radio demon, leaning forward in her chair to perch her elbows on the table, neatly folding her hands before resting her chin upon them.

Alastor's ear twitched toward her new approach as he gracefully sipped his tea, raising an eyebrow. The transformation to crimson in her scleras should have served as a warning, but it was too late. "It's not polite to interrupt~" She sang as she chided him, mirroring his smirk while playfully biting her lower lip.

"Oh? And what would that be?"

"Maybe I liked what I saw..." The innocent succubus purred.

Alastor's jaw went slack. Her instincts were correct, and they seemed to have shut him up. Until he withdrew a fist to clear his throat. "Pardon?" Her smile spread at the waver in his voice, radio static crackling heavier than usual. His fingers reached for the collar of his bow tie, but he caught himself. His uneasiness was uncharacteristically like music to Charlie's ears.

"You're attractive."

The weight of her words slipped out so effortlessly, like she was merely informing him of the weather. Shock had etched itself all over his demeanor. Never had he ever been confronted by a dilemma like this, especially so...so blatantly.

Alastor attempted to distract himself by going to pluck a warm muffin from the platter that separated them. Manners and etiquette were long forgotten. "Ah, ah, ah!" The giggling damsel stopped him. "This is my treat to you, so allow me, darling," she scolded playfully. His brows shot up when he heard her reflect one of his pet names for her. His fingers fumbled with the muffin until it tumbled down on top of the rest.

The King of Hell may have never meant anything by calling her nicknames—she never minded, in fact, she constantly appeared to enjoy them—yet peculiarly, he found if he was on the receiving end, somehow he lost all composure.

The outdoor table was tiny, so it was no challenge for Charlotte to obtain the stag's plate, then reach over for that same persimmon muffin. Her host took a swig of his tea. He was going to need something stronger. A lot stronger. She carefully placed the treat on his dish and presented it to him.

"Bon appétit...your majesty..."

Alastor choked on his drink. That was the last straw. He tried to poorly obstruct his face with his teacup. He did not require a mirror to know his skin was the shade of his hair. He easily recognized the adrenaline hammering through his veins from fighting countless battles, wars, rebellions, and betrayals. But the absence of aggression, bloodlust, and maniacal energy, right now, was petrifying.

Why was he overheating? Why was his teacup trembling in his fingers as if he were some skittish imp? Why was he a complete wreck?

There was no threat in sight, yet here he was, feeling threatened. Though, instead of naturally being confrontational, he was cowering away. Alastor was unfamiliar with this side of him. It stripped him of all self control, logic, and composure. It was absolutely horrid.

He frowned at his thoughts and avoided her burning gaze. Fortunately, his ears were perpetually red. "I-if, I recall...I...I thought I told you not to call me that..." He stammered, more to himself rather than his guest. It was not what Charlotte said that had him so bothered, but how she said it. "Sorry, my king. I guess I forgot," the demoness laughed flirtatiously, twirling one of her curly locks. She was toying with him. Considering how much he was failing at maintaining his front, he no longer found it humorous. He gave her a look of mild irritation, but he was hardly menacing with his abashed exterior.

The deer demon failed to fathom why those common names for a being of his social standing were unraveling him. Why should he mind if Charlotte addressed him as such while using honeyed tones and her mirroring scarlet eyes? He even gave her permission to assign him the nickname Al when he, indeed, loathed nicknames. Why did everything change around her? Was it because she was a succubus? A sex demoness? Mistress of flirtation??

Alastor glanced at Charlotte. She had been growing more affectionate with each passing day she spent in Hell. Perhaps, she had stayed for too long. This idea troubled the stag. Was he not witnessing another side to her? Was it simply a side effect of being bound to her new biology? For some reason, he did not like that possibility—not in the slightest.

Despite all that, he was confident he was not attracted to her sexually. Therefore, that ruled out her species. Then what were these...internal sensations?

Charlie decided she had poked fun at the poor deer long enough. "Okay, okay, I'll stop," she giggled before acquiring a serious expression. Her scleras faded into their original champagne. "Can I call you master, instead?"

"Excusez moi je vous demande pardo—"

"Kidding!"

Alastor huffed, uncrossing his legs and leaning back into his chair. The teacup vanished from his hand. An awkward silence fell, but it did not last when a snort escaped his silly guest. "Couldn't help myself," she ultimately giggled, a hand covering her mouth. "It's kind of cute to watch you get a little worked up..." His colorful orbs widened before softening. His smile eased.

Maybe they were not as different as he thought.

The two simultaneously picked up a muffin, biting into them in perfect sync. Alastor's eyes squinted in delight at the taste. "Why, these are quite lovely, chère. I could not thank you enough for the thoughtful gesture," he calmly complimented. Now, it was Charlotte averting his stare. "Wow, really—um, you're welcome; I'm really glad you like them, but it's all thanks to you, Al..."

"Nonsense! I only handed you a couple of things and put them in the oven. I know when I see talent, Charlotte. You make an outstanding baker."

"I-if you say so."

Her brisk acceptance of his praise pleased him.

Charlotte finished her tea within minutes and indulged on two more muffins. Alastor had a second which spoke volumes for his small appetite, although he was not able to finish the remaining third of it. He dabbed at his mouth with a cloth napkin, even though there was nothing there. "Are you going to finish that?" She pointed at his leftovers.

"I do apologize. I would love to have more, but unfortunately, I require a diet mostly of meat. I'll be sure to have another tonight with my drink."

The blonde furrowed her eyebrows. She deliberately kept her wandering eyes from darting to his hands. 'Really? It looks like he needs a diet of mostly anything else...'

"Oh, I understand, but that's not what I meant...can I have that?" She pointed to his partially eaten muffin. The stag wondered if there would ever be a moment when she did not stun him. His own forefinger slowly hovered over his serving as he studied her with round eyes.

"...This?"

She nodded.

It was such a bizarre request. The innocent girl hardly knew him, and...wished to eat from him? It puzzled him, and he was clueless on how to feel about it. Though, there would be no harm, he supposed. As usual, he could not come up with a reason to say no to Charlotte. "If you really want it," he decided, uncertainly giving her his plate. She accepted with a brief thanks, not hesitating to dig in. He watched speechlessly, too transfixed by her to comment. She ate it all up without a care. "Gosh, I love those things!" She fawned, wiping her lips with a napkin.

Alastor blinked.

"I shall head out, soon, but I vow not to be gone long. Now is as good as a time as any to give you your present." The young blonde's eyes lit up at the word. A present for her? From Alastor? She bit back a squeal.

He quietly chuckled at her excitement, stood to his feet, and strolled to her side. "Prepared for another ride, darling?" Her host dramatically bowed and swung out his hand. She grinned with a nod. As the ruler cautiously lifted her to mind her feet, the damsel automatically wrapped her arms around his neck for support without thinking, but she immediately caught herself. "Oh, um...is this okay?" She questioned hesitantly. Alastor's heart skipped a beat from their face to face proximity. They were nearly at eye level, since Charlie's clinging arms hoisted her form. "Not at all, ma chérie," he replied comfortably. Her lips parted, which was followed with a conflicted expression as her grip on him slackened. He noticed his slip up. "Oh, no, that's not what I—pardon moi, misuse of diction on my part, mademoiselle. All I meant is I don't mind at all. Better safe than sorry!" He awkwardly laughed. Reassurance settled into the young damsel, and she barely smiled, snaking her arms around the back of his neck more cozily.

The radio demon ignored the shiver down his spine previously to his tail flicking upward at the electric shock.

OMIGOD THAT PART WAS WAY TOO LONG

6K fucking words I was going to update this a month apart but was crazy busy babysitting hellspawns for inspo so I put it off for 1 1/2 months so time was up and I'm like 'okay I'm ready for this' but nope it was 2 MONTHS later but I  binged this and STILL didn't get to my goal scene I was waiting for but I just really want this published idec you can meet our new bae in the next chapter im too out there to proofread btw I'm mixing the canon background with my own stuff so it's not gonna be exact have a nice day also someone tell me how the fuck I got a radish in my brownie this morning

Hope you liked!

~ Sapphire out