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“Well, well, a climatic battle that doesn’t end with the hotel in ruins.” Alastor’s ever-present smile widened, baring sharp teeth quite at odds with his pleasant tone. “What an enjoyable change of pace.”
He placed both hands on his newly repaired staff, eyes tracking around the hotel’s entryway to confirm that several of its usual residents had noticed his arrival. Niffty was involved in some inscrutable interaction with that newcomer, the anglerfish man. Baxter, Alastor recalled vaguely. They appeared both unharmed, which was fortunate as Alastor rather had plans for Niffty and she seemed to have already gotten attached to the poor man. Husker and that friend of Angel Dust’s, the young woman with the explosives, were sitting at the bar, looking put out, for reasons best explained by the noted absence of Angel Dust himself, but Alastor didn’t care to inquire further.
Most important for Alastor’s interests, Charlie was talking to Vaggie by the reception desk, looking excited and somewhat harried, when she noticed him.
“Alastor!” Charlie leapt over the reception desk and skidded to a halt just in front of him. “Alastor, you’re back! Again! This keeps happening! Are you okay? What am I saying—of course you’re okay! If anything, you saved us! I should be mad at you for getting yourself captured and making me say that about Vox, but I’m just so relieved most of Hell is still standing and we’re not actively at war with Heaven.”
Her eyes shone with a storm of emotions, unshed tears reflecting the bright lights of the foyer, but Alastor felt only a momentary flicker of irritation at this blatant show of feeling. In all, he was in a magnanimous mood, in no small part thanks to Charlie herself and her role in freeing him from his deal.
“Yes, it seems everything has worked out for the best,” he agreed, ignoring the considerable destruction caused by the Might of Lilith and the morose atmosphere coming from the bar. “Well done, Charlie, on rallying so many overlords to your aid.”
Charlie beamed and brushed the brimming tears from her eyes. “Thanks,” she said, her voice a little watery, “but if you hadn’t shown up with Rosie, we probably wouldn’t have been able to pull it off. That was, like, really close.”
That same lingering nervousness came back into Charlie’s expression, and Alastor touched her lightly on the shoulder in what he hoped was a benevolent gesture.
“Not to worry,” he said, sweeping a short bow. “Happy to be of service.”
In truth, his services had been subject to some negotiation, but Charlie didn’t need to know that.
“No, really,” she said earnestly. “Thank you for going to get her. I have like two dozen thank you cards to write, and she’s on my list. I don’t suppose you could deliver hers for me? You visit her sometimes, don’t you?”
Alastor’s smile froze. Charlie was looking at him with a hopeful curiosity that put him on edge. A distant memory stirred, of a way people used to look at him and talk to him sometimes when he was alive, a long time ago.
“Well, yes,” he admitted. For one reason or another, he had visited Rosie quite a lot over the years.
“Oh good!” Charlie clasped her hands together, pleased. “Some of the cannibals stopped by earlier and said they saw you dressed up and bringing her flowers, and apparently the two of you often show up to overlord meetings together, so I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind an excuse to visit her.”
Charlie’s hopeful expression turned conspiratorial, and Alastor tensed almost imperceptibly, his ears pinning back as Charlie gestured for him to lean closer. Unwilling to show his hand, he obeyed, and Charlie raised a hand to shield her mouth from view.
“Are you two together?” she asked in a whisper, clearly harboring some excitement. “I’m not trying to pry into your personal life, but I think Rosie’s great, and I’ve just been wondering what’s going on with you two and how you know each other.”
Alastor went stock-still, his mind blank for a moment with panic and indecision before he recovered. Telling Charlie the truth of his deal with Rosie wasn’t an option, for several reasons. Even if he had escaped it, he couldn’t afford for anyone to think his power was anything other than his own. Alastor did not rely on other people. The last thing he needed was for Charlie to start spreading the idea that he was in any way indebted to Rosie for his power, regardless of whether or not it was true.
The alternative came with its own problems, however. For one thing, it wasn’t true. Alastor had no qualms about lying, of course, but the tricky thing was not getting caught in one’s own web of them, and this would be a challenging falsehood to maintain. For another, he feared the impact on his reputation. A romantic relationship was, in his opinion, a show of weakness in its own right, although not as bad as revealing the knowledge of his deal with Rosie.
Then again, he realized, this wasn’t just any hypothetical partnership. Many people, including some present in the hotel, had terrible taste in romantic partners, but this was Rosie. She was one of the most powerful and charming overlords in Hell. To claim a partnership with her could, if anything, bolster his reputation, if he was willing to make an exception to his usual beliefs.
Alastor pulled away from Charlie and forced his ears back into their usual upright position.
“That’s a rather personal question, my dear, but I suppose I can answer it,” he said with another glance around the room for effect. He extended a hand to guide Charlie to a more secluded part of the foyer, his arm around her shoulders but not quite touching her. She followed him a short distance out of earshot from the others, slightly starry-eyed that he hadn’t immediately shot her down.
“Yes,” he lied once they were far enough away. “Rosie and I have been in a partnership for quite some time. But you’ll forgive me for not advertising it. It’s a”—he hesitated, trying to recall a distant memory of how people used to talk—"secret courtship.”
Charlie smiled so wide her fangs were visible and clapped her hands together happily.
“Oh, that’s so exciting,” she half-whispered, half-squeaked. “I didn’t want to assume or anything because I thought maybe you were aroace or at least that you didn’t like people, but Rosie is wonderful. She was such a big help with the fight against Adam and now in stopping Vox from destroying half the city. I’m so happy for you.”
“She is impressive, isn’t she?” Alastor agreed, his pride genuine. He wasn’t sure what aroace meant, although he assumed it had nothing to do with archery, but he had to admit Charlie might be right that he was, at best, ambivalent toward the vast majority of people. Fortunately for him, Rosie was one of the few people he could stand, or else he would have tried harder to get out of his deal much longer ago.
“How did you two meet?” Charlie asked, seemingly hungry for details about this non-existent courtship.
“Why, she came to pick me up when I arrived in Hell,” Alastor said with a twirl of his staff. As a matter of fact, this was the truth, but he thought he could spin it if he had to. “I was assigned to Cannibal Town, for reasons I should think are obvious, and while Rosie doesn’t personally greet every soul that arrives in her domain, she says she knew she had to come meet me. Apparently she could tell my soul was rather special.”
Her exact words, if he remembered right, had been, “You don’t see a soul like yours everyday,” and technically she had only come to pick him up because they had made a deal while he was alive, but it made for a fine enough story.
“Naturally, I was very impressed by how she runs the show in Cannibal Town, and I like to think we hit it off right away.”
Not for the first time, the memory of his deal with Rosie, one of his last memories alive in fact, pushed its way to the front of his mind. They had hit it off, after a fashion. It had taken no time at all for them to come to an agreement. One that had, despite Alastor’s recent frustrations, been mutually beneficial for the both of them. Rosie knew what she wanted and how to get it, and Alastor admired that, even when it was to his detriment.
Charlie stared at him with rapt attention, and Alastor floundered internally for a moment, trying to think of what else to say. He was familiar with how Charlie spoke of her partner, but for the most part he avoided such sentimental conversations. Still, if there was one thing Alastor had always been good at, it was smiling under pressure, so his grin widened as he continued.
“She had excellent advice for an up-and-coming demon such as myself, and I offered her my services for a few pesky issues she was dealing with, and it turned out we made quite the team.” Alastor looked back with some satisfaction on his first major turf skirmish on Rosie’s behalf, back before the Radio Demon was known and feared throughout Hell. “After a while, my business calls became social in nature, and here we are.”
“That’s beautiful,” said Charlie sincerely. “I assume you’re referencing unspeakable violence in there, but don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. I’m going to keep imagining the two of you doing nice things like investing in Cannibal Town infrastructure and promoting peaceful conflict resolution between the gangs.”
Despite their long affiliation, Alastor still blinked in befuddlement at this statement. “Right,” he said, off-guard by Charlie’s sincerity. “Among other things.”
“But why are you keeping it a secret?” she asked, seeming genuinely concerned. “Isn’t it hard? Don’t you want to tell people? I love telling people about Vaggi—“
“That’s because you are you, and I am myself,” Alastor interrupted, though his voice lacked any real bite. “I for one don’t like to advertise my personal life—we are in Hell, dear Charlie. Reputation is everything, and broadcasting an affinity for someone is asking for them to meet an unfortunate fate. Of course, between Rosie and myself, we could surely handle any would-be attackers or scoundrels, but why invite the hassle? I hardly need the opinion of others to justify my own feelings.”
“Aw, that’s actually really sweet,” Charlie said, her eyes bright again. Alastor held back another wave of annoyance even though it was his own speech which had prompted her response. He was perhaps too good at this.
“I wouldn’t quite say that,” he objected, finding himself overwhelmed by this fake scenario. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do getting this hotel back in order after my brief leave of absence. I’ll see you around, Charlie.”
As quickly as he could without rousing suspicion, Alastor disappeared into the pool of shadows at his feet. He was already regretting choosing this course of action.