Chapter Text
Your music for this bit: Bjork: "All is Full of Love", Aphex Twin: "Xtal", Billie Holliday: "All of Me"
For a long time Vox watched the quietly slumbering deer demon.
He's just... Beautiful.
Not in the conventional human sense, but beautiful in the same way he found Shok.wav beautiful.
Alastor was perfectly designed for Hell in almost every way. Heightened senses. Super-human agility. Claws and teeth that could shred flesh.
Not terribly long after they had met, Vox had realized that Alastor could even emit radio waves strong enough to trigger fear in other sinners' brains. The man radiated an atmosphere of fear. What other overlord could boast of such an ability?
Perfectly designed for Hell.
And he finally had him. After 70 years, he finally had the notorious Radio Demon in his bed, naked and quietly sleeping after being fucked into an exhausted state. It was a view so beautiful, he couldn't believe it was real.
Just to be certain, he extended a hand and touched one of the furry, black-tipped ears.
Normally they stood at perfect attention, or pinned back to show aggression. Now they fell down on either side of Alastor's head.
As Vox touched the ear closest to him, it flicked. It was... Cute? Sweet? None of the words seemed to fit.
He slowly slid his fingers down into the red fur around the base of the ear. Past the stiff, bristley guard hairs which were all that was usually visible, he could feel a soft downy layer beneath. He caught himself lovingly petting behind the ear.
Alastor's smile hadn't entirely disappeared, even though his face was relaxed. It was still there. Not the unsettling smile Vox was used to seeing. Instead it was tender. Content even.
"So soft." He muttered under his breath.
If only you had let me in when I very first got brave enough to tell you. I'd have loved you the way you deserved. Something as beautiful as you was made to be loved. I would have worshipped you.
For a long time he lay there, petting the soft red fur and remembering how in awe he was when he first encountered the Radio Demon...
It was only 4 days since he had arrived in Hell. After a couple days he had finally figured out how to eat and drink. He was in a shitty little bar in an area called Cannibal Town when HE walked in.
The red demon resembling a deer collected a small package from the bartender, accepted a free whiskey that was kept tucked away for "special" patrons, then quickly left.
Vincent waited a minute, then stepped outside.
That deer demon was too beautiful to just let him walk away.
Vincent recalled getting slapped and called a "faggot" because he had refused to shoot a deer when his father had taken him hunting when he was thirteen. Later his mother had snuck up to his room to bring him dinner, since he was too ashamed to come downstairs.
"There's nothing wrong with refusing to destroy something beautiful." She had told him.
"I'm not letting it get away this time."
Outside the bar was no hint of where the red deer had gone. Not until he heard the gunshots.
Someone else had intruded onto his territory.
Vincent hid behind a mail box to watch as a storefront all but exploded. Multiple sinners with guns and dressed like old-time mobsters ran or stumbled out of the debris and turned to face what remained hidden behind rubble and dust.
Within moments a black, slithering blur shot out of the hole. One of the mobster sinners was skewered through the chest and left to drop where he stood.
The other mobsters opened fire with pistols. One fired a shotgun loaded with buckshot into the hole. From it erupted a blur of red and black, shrieking with the sound of feedback.
The blur stood upright, suddenly dwarfing the buildings that still stood.
Vincent could see it was the red deer demon. The antlers atop his head branched out wide and his eyes glowed like radio dials. The padded shoulders of the red tailcoat he wore added a more intimidating air to his already looming figure. He emitted a rumbling growl, and something caused Vincent's screen to temporarily flicker to static as he felt an uncomfortable electrical tingling sweep over him. The tingle began to feel like a burning itch in his brain.
The sensation was coming from the Radio Demon.
He bared his razorblade teeth as four black shadowy tentacles emerged from his back.
A bystander screamed "They pissed off the Radio Demon! RUN!" just before the tentacles whipped about in a frenzy, crushing one mobster sinner and ripping another in half. The last tried to reload his shotgun while on the run, but dropped the shells. He was dumb enough to stop to retrieve them- allowing a tentacle the opportunity to snatch him up by the ankle.
It picked him up, dangling him upside down. The Radio Demon let out a hearty laugh as he eyed the sinner.
"I just had my coat patched, you fucking swine!" He thundered before giving the tentacle a sudden whip against the street's surface, breaking several bones and causing the sinner to drop his gun.
The sinner cried out as the Radio Demon's black tentacle raised him above his head.
Vincent was still watching, half terrified, half enthralled.
He wasn't ready for what happened.
The Radio Demon opened his jaws, tipping his head back, and dropped the sinner into his mouth head-first. Muffled screaming emanated from his mouth.
The sinner's head and shoulders fit in his mouth but were too large to swallow, so the Eldritch monstrosity chomped and tossed his head back a few times. After a few bites, the screams finally ended with an abrupt gaging sound and Vincent could hear bones breaking and cracking. Blood oozed from the corners of the Radio Demon's mouth. After tenderizing his afternoon snack and crushing the bones, the Radio Demon had no trouble swallowing it whole.
Vincent crouched behind the mailbox and stared. He wasn't afraid anymore. He was in awe.
The Radio Demon suddenly returned to a normal size and put away his extra appendages. Blood from the sinner he had devoured clung to his chin and lower lip.
He glanced down at his coat. The buckshot had made a few patchy holes, but a couple pellets had hit their mark. Blood was dripping out of two small holes near his hip bone.
"Fuck..." Vincent heard the Radio Demon hiss, then watched as he used a single clawed finger to reach in and dig out each pellet. The Demon's face appeared more annoyed than in pain. Anyone else would be in agony.
After he had retrieved the second pellet, he flicked it into the street and licked the blood from his fingers.
My god... He's perfect.
Vincent felt his undead heart flutter.
I need to have him.
And now the flesh-eating terror was sleeping peacefully in his bed.
"You were so brutally beautiful." Vox whispered as he smoothed out the bristley fur.
“I knew I had to have you.”
The rumble of thunder shook the room and Alastor's blood red eyes shot open.
The vertical pupils took a moment to adjust as Vox withdrew his hand. The deer's eyes were still that of a predator and seeing them open so abruptly to stare directly into his made him jump.
"Al! I'm sorry. I was just... I was trying to, uh...."
The Alastor he knew would have been furious at anyone who dared to touch him while he slept.
But this Alastor simply let his smile creep wider. "Its alright" he breathed. "I don't mind. It's actually quite lovely." He wasn't lying. He did actually enjoy having his ears pet, but anymore it was something he reserved for Nifty when she climbed him like a jungle gym and perched on his shoulder.
She would sit for a while observing the drama of the hotel and give amusing commentary while kneading the soft fur at the base of his ear. Something about it was charming, much the same way Alastor recalled twiddling with his maman's soft deep brown curls for comfort as a toddler.
They smelled like rose oil and spices from her kitchen.
His first memory.
Although the large, sharp claws weren't anywhere near as dexterous as Nifty's tiny, nimble fingers, it still felt pleasant.
Alastor glanced around the room. He was searching for a clock, but found nothing in the overly modern space.
"What time is it?" He finally asked.
"It's almost five." Vox answered. "You need to be somewhere?"
Alastor raised his upper body from the sheets.
"Yes, as a matter of fact." He wasn't lying. "Charlie may need me. She's usually up by six-thirty or so. She's one of those 'morning people' we hear stories of."
Vox rolled his eyes playfully. "SHE would be."
Alastor let out a soft chuckle.
“Well I think the rain stopped.” Vox said. “You should be safe to go outside.”
Alastor began looking for his clothes. Underwear, pants... as he pulled on his shirt he heard a good sign.
"Can we... Can I see you again?" Vox asked shyly.
Alastor turned to gaze at Vox from the corner of his eye and smiled seductively.
"You really want to? I thought you would get bored once you had me. Isn't that usually what happens?"
Vox sat up and appeared shocked.
"Bored!? What!? No! No way!" He scooched himself across the bed and with both hands took Alastor's right hand.
Alastor repressed his instinct to growl at being touched without invitation.
"Alastor, the reason I wanted you is because I wanted to be with you. Forever. I..."
Alastor could feel what he was about to say.
Oh for fucks sake. Please don't say THAT.
Alastor quickly pressed himself into the screen to shut Vox up.
The hopeless romantic television bought it and turned to putty at Alastor's touch.
Alastor slowly pulled away and pressed a single clawed finger to the screen.
"Please. Just wait with that for now, darling."
Vox's face was dazed and pleading.
Alastor grinned as he buttoned up his shirt.
"Why not later tonight?" He asked sweetly. "Say the hotel? Perhaps 10:00?"
Vox's shoulders sagged. "Why so late?" His voice was thick with disappointment.
Alastor let his smile weaken slightly.
"I'm not ready to be all the way out about us just yet." He whispered, feigning shyness. "We've only been at all out war for seventy years."
"Oh yeah... That might be pretty awkward." Vox began to blush with embarrassment.
"And I'm pretty sure I still owe the Princess and Lucifer some pretty in-depth apologies."
Alastor couldn't help but take the opportunity to rub Vox's face in his own failure just for a moment as he knotted and straightened his tie.
"Yes- our diminutive monarch is still more than a tad upset about being used as a living battery for your little toy. Its adorable watching him get so flustered about it- like a grumpy toy dog!" He chuckled at the comparison.
Vox tried to distract himself from the embarrassment, making his monitor feel like it was burning up.
"So if you want to meet at the hotel, how are we going to keep this a secret?" He was honestly curious. He knew NO ONE in the hotel would be able to stay quiet about seeing the Radio Demon and the Media Overlord headed to Alastor's room together.
Alastor gave Vox a reassuring grin, then dematerialized, reappearing across the room with his coat.
"You can do that with someone with you!?" Vox had only ever seen Alastor perform this trick on his own.
Alastor answered by suddenly reappearing before Vox, placing both hands on his shoulders, then melting both of them into shadows- rematerializing in front of the door.
Vox's screen flickered a moment and he let out an embarrassed "shit!" When he realized he was still naked and scrambled to cover himself.
Alastor chuckled and snapped his fingers, causing Vox's boxers to appear on his body.
"My apologies" he smiled. "That was rather tasteless of me."
Vox checked his boxers and scratched behind his monitor.
"Should I ...Walk you out? I guess I don't know how this should work."
Alastor summoned his staff and leaned on it like a cane. "You can if you like. I suppose since its so early, no one will be up to see."
"Yeah. Velvette usually sleeps late. So does Val. And even if he's been coked up, he's rarely ever up after three-ish. Most everyone else doesn't get here until seven."
Vox threw on a white button down shirt and slacks and opened the door for Alastor.
"How gentlemanly." Alastor smiled.
"Oh- Wait!" Vox excitedly offered Alastor his arm and grinned. Alastor accepted and gave a soft smile.
Alastor had been used to walking arm-in-arm with Rosie if he had been required to accompany her somewhere. Especially somewhere dangerous. For his first couple years in Hell he had served as her personal body guard. It was new to have someone else offer up their arm to him.
The two walked back up the dimly lit hallway and Vox took the chance to observe Alastor's face again.
Something about him seemed warmer and less intimidating. It made Vox's heart flutter excitedly.
The Radio Demon actually WANTS to see me again!
The lobby was still dark and dead silent with the exception of their footsteps. Alastor's were much sharper and louder due to having modified hooves.
As they reached the front doors, Alastor stopped and turned to Vox.
“I enjoyed our time together.” He smiled.
Vox's blush could have lit up the block.
“Ten o’clock. Be in your room and be ready.” He reached up to affectionately caress the corner of Vox's monitor.
“I'll come fetch you.”
He gave the screen a little peck and Vox turned to putty, a dreamy smile spread over his screen.
The Radio Demon quietly walked out the doors, turned to give a little wave, then disappeared in a swirl of shadows.
Vox all but skipped back to his room.
Alastor wanted nothing more than to get back to his room and shower.
You weren't supposed to enjoy that!
He hated how good it had felt - having the stupid television fucking him.
Violating him.
Making him beg for more.
And he hated it even more how he desperately wanted it again.
He made his way back across the city in a mass of shadows. Hardly anyone was awake and out this early, making getting back to the hotel quicker and easier.
Once at the hotel, he re-materialized in the lobby. That was a terrible mistake.
Charlie's voice called out of the dining area.
“Alastor! Good morning! How was your night!?”
Ugh. Who is this happy and energetic at six in the morning!?
He turned to find Charlie already nearly in his face. She was still in her pajamas.
“Good morning, Charlie.” He drawled. “A lovely evening, but nothing terribly eventful to report.”
Charlie's face drooped in disappointment.
“Oh… I was hoping maybe you two could have a special moment or something.”
Alastor shook his head. “Give it time, Charlie. After all, I've listened in on your sharing circles, and you're always telling sinners that healing is a process. Isn't that right?”
“Very true.” She sighed.
“Umm… I also wanted to ask you-”
If she asks for any more private information about my night, I swear-
“-if you would be cool with doing scrambled eggs for us? Yours are the best and I tried and kinda burned everything.”
Oh the relief.
“Well of course, dear. Nice to see my cooking appreciated.”
As long as it doesn't involve me having to discuss my night.
Alastor walked to the kitchen and hung his coat on a hook near the doorway. As he took a moment to wash his hands, one of his ears flicked back, detecting the soft skittering of Nifty’s tiny feet.
Without a word, the small woman scaled him like a mountain and perched comfortably on his right shoulder.
“Good morning, sir!” She chirped excitedly.
“And to you, darling.” Alastor smiled warmly at her. Of all the people he had met in Hell in his nearly ninety years here, Nifty was the only one that he had bonded with emotionally.
At least, until now.
He had encountered her shortly after her arrival in the late fifties. Alastor had been enjoying an evening off from his enforcement duties at a little bar that sat on the very edge of Cannibal Town.
Oddly enough, he had been enjoying his evening with Vincent (long before the idiot television had ruined a perfectly good arrangement).
Nifty had snuck in and had been picking patrons’ pockets for spare change to buy food.
Then she attempted to pick the wrong pocket.
Vincent’s pocket.
The budding television overlord shifted in his stool just in time to catch her nearly to her elbow in his trouser pocket.
Alastor had witnessed Vincent kill other sinners before, but as soon as he saw the television gripping the tiny woman around the neck, something in him demanded that he intervene.
The two weren't equally matched. Such an unfair fight was hardly acceptable.
Stealing a quarter was in no way worthy of a death sentence.
Alastor could immediately see that she was filthy, hungry, and scared.
Instead of letting Vincent kill her, he quickly snatched her from his grip and insisted on taking her “for his own use”.
In reality, he took her back to his apartment in Cannibal Town across the street from Rosie's, let her clean herself up, fed her a decent meal, and gave her a place to sleep. His only requirement was that she keep the apartment clean.
And she did.
There was never a contract needed for their arrangement.
At more than one point, the television demon had accused Alastor of having sexual feelings for Nifty. The thought made Alastor wretch. Not only were the accusations false, he viewed Nifty very much like a child, and he felt the need to protect her. Even when he had to leave on Rosie's orders for seven years, he insisted that Rosie provide for her needs. The idea of anything sexual had never crossed his mind.
Nifty happily sat on his shoulder, watching him prepare a skillet and mixing bowl. As he cracked each egg into the bowl, he handed off each eggshell to her, and she turned to toss them into the trash, never missing a single shot.
After she disposed of the final eggshell, she hopped down and skittered across the counter to the fridge, hurrying back with a glass bottle of heavy cream.
Alastor paused, allowing her to add a splash of cream to the eggs, before she put the bottle away and he whisked the eggs into a frothy slurry the way Maman had taught him almost one-hundred and twenty years ago.
Nifty returned to her perch on his shoulder and began softly petting the fur around the base of his ear.
His mind began to wander.
When he had awoken in Vox's bed, Vox had been petting his ears, but with much more affection.
It felt…lovely.
Stop that!!! He's an idiot!
Nifty's voice brought him back to reality.
“You were gone all night. I was worried about you, sir.”
Alastor reached up to pat her on her tiny knee. “Sweet Nifty, I'm sorry to have worried you. I assure you, Vox is quite harmless now.”
He felt her lean into his wirey hair.
“I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you, Alastor.” She whispered.
The affectionate display made him freeze. After taking a moment to process the surprise, he used a single hand to hold her close for a moment.
Receiving affection from anyone but his Maman had always felt so strange. But Nifty activated something parental in him. It was so odd to receive affection from two people in the past twenty-four hours. Two kinds of affection. And to enjoy them both.
And then someone had to ruin the moment.
“Are you going to hurry it up, Bambi? I've got pancakes to make.”
Oh for fucks sake.
Lucifer was still in his fluffy pink bathrobe and ducky slippers, holding his coffee mug, glaring at the back of Alastor's head with all the sass only the King of Hell could conjure.
Alastor slowly turned to peek around the tiny maid on his shoulder.
“I was unaware his majesty could reach into the cupboards.” Short jokes never failed to hit their mark with Lucifer.
“Very funny, asshole.” The angel grumbled back. “Oh, hey! I hear you had a little date last night with TV-head guy! Mind sharing any juicy details?”
Alastor gritted his teeth. “I DO mind, actually. That's a very personal question.”
Lucifer rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee.
“Yuh-huh. Well excuse me for poking my nose into your love life, but you and I have-”
Alastor interjected.
“I'm very aware!” He snapped. The hiss of static distorted his voice as he bared his teeth.
“And I'm working on it. These things take time.”
Alastor's attention went back to the skillet as he tried to ignore the angel’s needling.
What a pestering little fly he is.
He busied himself with stirring the eggs away from the edges of the skillet as Nifty hopped down to skitter after a bug on the floor, needle drawn and laughing mischievously.
Lucifer came unnervingly close and plucked a bit of egg out of the skillet. His hands were obviously immune to the heat.
“Just remember, Bellhop. If you don't make good on your end, I can always undo my handiwork and let you rot.” He murmured and tossed the bit of egg into his mouth. Alastor looked down at him out of the corner of one eye, refusing to look at the King directly.
“Hm… Charlie's right. Yours are pretty damn good. Keep me up to date. I'd hate to miss out on anything fun.” He said dismissively and shuffled out in his slippers.
Alastor growled and scraped the now finished eggs into a large steel serving tray.
That pompous little ass!
He threw his coat back on and walked the tray out to the table where Charlie and Vaggi were sitting. Vaggi was wearing a short silky silver nightgown and had covered up with a red “LuLu Land” hoodie. She was clutching a steaming coffee mug and looked to be barely awake. Charlie was scribbling out a weekly therapy schedule while she held a whole piece of toast in her teeth.
“Ladies.” Alastor greeted them as warmly as he could, given the mood Lucifer had put him in. “The eggs you requested.”
He set the tray on the table.
“Oh Alastor! Thank you!” Charlie removed the toast from her mouth to beam.
“Oh holy shit- Yes!” Vaggi suddenly seemed to wake up.
Out of seemingly nowhere, Nifty hopped up onto the table, excitedly stole a few handfuls of scrambled eggs, munching and laughing, then darted off to murder more cockroaches.
“Now, Charlie, if you will excuse me. I've had a very long night. I need to freshen up.”
“Of course.” Charlie smiled. “I'll ring your room if we need anything.”
Sunday mornings at the hotel were typically slow. Charlie scheduled everything for the afternoon to give guests a little break from a busy week. The likelihood of her needing Alastor's help with anything around the hotel was almost non-existent.
Good.
Alastor used the shadows to move quickly up to his room. He re-materialized and ran his hand across the back of his door, activating a “no entry” ward. The last thing he needed was someone walking in unannounced while he dealt with these unwanted feelings.
And how sickening they were.
Alastor plopped himself down into his reading chair and grabbed fistfuls of his own hair as he grappled with the strange new urges.
You fucking weak idiot! Why are you feeling like THIS?! He's a moron! He tried to kill you! He's an egomaniac who nearly doomed Hell to war with Heaven! You've spent the last seventy years at each other's throats and you let some soft touches, nice words, and a few moments of pleasure make you feel conflicted! We're potentially hours from total freedom! Do not ruin this with these dumb animal urges or childish feelings!
He tried to rest his face in his hands in order to think, only to discover they smelled like Vox. A combination of light, expensive cologne and saltwater. It stood out distinctly against Alastor's natural scent, which resembled stagnant water, decaying plants, and a faint hint of death.
He stood and stormed into the bathroom. He had to get the damned scent off of himself. After cranking the shower as hot as he could stand, he stripped off his clothes. As he did so, the scent trapped on his bristle became stronger. It was quickly becoming infuriating.
As Alastor stepped into the shower, his hooves clacked loudly against the porcelain tub. He didn't enjoy washing up. Since his fall into Hell and the sharpening of all his senses, bathing had become a sensory nightmare. But at this point, he'd be willing to streak through the acid rain to eliminate the smell of the TV demon.
He snatched a bar of plain soap off the edge of the tub and began frantically scrubbing himself. The water pounded around him and tried to get into his ears. Every fifteen seconds or so he shook his head violently to keep the water out. Pinning them back really didn't help. As the soap turned into a thick froth in his bristle, the scent began to fade.
He hissed a sigh of relief. As the scent faded, this new urge began to subside, but not completely. Just enough to no longer be distracting.
As Alastor rinsed off the last traces of soap, he hung his head. The exhausting ordeal was over.
After turning off the shower, he stepped out of the claw foot tub. A good shake shed most of the water from the fur on his ears. A fluffy white towel hung from the bar next to the tub. It had been there for two weeks, since the last time he forced himself to shower. He snatched it off the bar and dried the rest of his body, then abandoned the towel to the floor.
After the overstimulation of the shower, Alastor craved peace. The cathedral radio on his end table suddenly came to life and Alastor reached out into the radio waves to pluck out something familiar and pleasant. A channel on Earth playing early jazz echoed back to him through the thousands of other signals. He latched onto it and connected the signal to his radio. The voice of Bessie Smith flowed out over his room, giving him something else to focus on.
Hmmm. Much better.
He turned to the bayou deeper in his room. The hammock would actually be lovely right now. He decided to rest. Charlie had no official activities planned until at least noon.
Still naked, he walked into the bayou. It was a perfect recreation of the bayou he knew growing up. Down to the fireflies lazily drifting through the air and the leaves decaying in the mud. It was dimly lit by a light that perfectly mimicked the full moon.
On top of a small hill in the bayou he found his hammock suspended between two trees. It was a simple net. Nothing more than what he needed.
He climbed in, and found a comfortable position on his side, an arm tucked behind his head, and his legs curled into a fetal position. A heavy sigh escaped him.
Suddenly he felt drained. Why!?
He nestled into the hammock and closed his eyes. The music and sounds of the bayou soothed his mind. Crickets, frogs, and even the occasional buzz of a cicada brought him back to Earth and the memory of being in the bayou with his Maman. From as early as he could recall, she would bring him with her while she foraged for herbs for her Voodoo practice. As she did, she taught him about each plant and what it was used for. She taught him to make offerings and prayers for the ancestors. She taught him to use rootwork and prayer to heal. What would she think of him offering himself up as a host to something dark to give him the strength and will to get rid of his father so they could be free?
Oh Maman. What should I do?
He let his mind wander through memories as a new song began playing.
The feeling began to creep in.
The longing for touch. Enjoying his company. How close they had been prior to his “proposal”. Vox had even walked him home after his birthday celebrations one evening. Alastor had very little memory of it. Vox had told him that at one point he was forced to carry the Radio Demon, he was so sloppy drunk.
He tucked me into bed. Then slept on the floor. He could have taken advantage of me. But he didn't. He didn't just lust after me. He cared about me.
A new song started up on his radio and suddenly the voice of Billie Holliday echoed sweetly and sadly over his bayou.
All of me
Why not take all of me?
Can't you see
I'm no good without you?
Take my lips
I want to lose them
Take my arms
I'll never use them
Your goodbye left me with eyes that cry
How can I go on dear without you?
You took the part that once was my heart
So why not take all of me?
So, this is love? What a nightmare.
Something trickled down his cheek.
Oh no. Not that.
He curled in on himself, letting the hammock hold him.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
He covered his face with his claws.
You were supposed to take care of it and be finished, not fall for that idiot-box!
His body shuddered and another trickle down his cheek confirmed his worst fears.
God damn it. I'm in love.
“I always did love Billie Holliday.” a familiar voice startled the Radio Demon. He sat up while doing his best to hide his naked body.
Lucifer was standing in his bayou. His pristine white top hat and tail coat stood out like a star in a black sky.
Alastor bared his teeth.
“My door was warded for a reason.” He growled. The song on the radio faded into angry static.
Lucifer cocked his head and gave him an overconfident smirk.
“That ward is only effective against demons, deer-boy.”
The king of Hell turned and pretended to examine the room as he spoke.
“Now, you and I have a deal, just in case you need reminding. And if you don't fulfill your half of the deal, I can always undo my handiwork here.” He used his apple scepter to gesture at the scar across Alastor's chest.
The Radio Demon let his snarl fade. Without Lucifer and his magic, he would be dead.
The apple scepter suddenly found itself under his chin as Lucifer examined Alastor's face.
“Have you been… Crying?” The angel asked.
“I don't cry.” Alastor hissed. “And I'll be taking care of our deal tonight.”