Chapter 4: Smile

Chapter 4

...Well, episode 8 was unexpected. Not really sure how I feel about it, but other than what I felt was a rather rushed ending, man do I want fucking more of it!

Leave a comment! Because that's the only way I know you want more chapters!

Enjoy!

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 Flashback

 "What got you so upset sweetie?" a beautiful woman asked as she looked down at the sniffling child trying their best to not cry. 

 The woman was adorned in tattered clothes, the fabric worn and frayed from years of use. Her hair flowed in cascading waves down her back that matched beautifully with her chocolate-colored skin, like a waterfall of rich mahogany hues. Her eyes, an intense emerald green that seemed to hold wisdom, were filled with deep concern as she tenderly brushed away a single tear from the child's chubby cheeks. She was less than happy to see the bruise on her son's left cheek. 

 "...T-The other kids were making fun of you, a-and they were calling you mean things." The child stuttered out not at all happy with the other kids. 

 "Oh, pumpkin," the woman cooed, her smile radiating warmth and understanding. "They're just words, you know? Words can't hurt me." She lowered herself onto one knee, bringing her eye level to match that of the child. Even hunched down, she was strikingly beautiful: a statue carved out of pure love and resilience. 

 "But...but they were mean, mama. They said you were...you were..." the child stumbled over their words, eyes welling up. 

 "They said I was what, sweetheart?" she prompted gently, her hand cupping the child's face. The woman never blinked, her emerald gems fixated on the little one, a sheath of patience enveloping the air around them. She knew only too well the venom that children could spew, as innocent as they may appear. 

 "T-That you were nothing but a slave! A-And that you kidnapped and you aren't my real mother! I told them that you are my real mother b-but they wouldn't believe me and said that I was lying!" 

 The woman's face softened at hearing the cruel words that had been forced upon her young son. She sighed, pulling the child into a warm embrace as she rocked him gently back and forth. Her heart ached for the innocence that he was rapidly losing, all because of the difference between her skin and his. 

 One could easily tell at first glance that she and her son were quite different from each other. Their physical appearance varied greatly, but it was the color of their skin that stood out most prominently. The mother had a warm, chocolate hue to her complexion while her son's was much paler, reminiscent of his father. Despite their differences, they shared a bond that went beyond skin-deep. 

 "Is that why you got into a fight with those boys?" 

 The child gave a slight nod, sniffling into his mother's worn blouse. The woman pulled back slightly, inspecting the small bruise blooming on his cheek. It was a sad sight, but her heart swelled with strange pride. Her son had stood up for her and fought for her honor. 

 "I'm sorry you had to hear those things, honey," she whispered, running her hand through his hair soothingly. "But just because they said those mean things doesn't mean you can resort to violence. Do you understand?" 

 "But they said all those mean things about you! How can I do nothing when they say that about you?!" 

 "I understand how you're feeling, my sweet boy," she said gently, tightening her hold on him for a moment. "But violence is not the answer. It never solves anything; it only makes things worse." 

 The child looked up at her, his eyes filled with confusion and hurt. "But they were wrong!" he protested. She could hear the heartbreak in his voice, and it pained her. 

 "Yes, they were," she agreed softly. "However, that does not give us the right to hit them. We are better than that. We are stronger than that." She tilted his face up gently so she could look him in the eyes. "We rise above, sweetheart. We do not sink down to their level." 

 "How can I do that?" he asked, his lips forming into a frown. "How can just ignore all those awful things they say about you and act like it doesn't affect me?" 

 She looked at him for a few moments, her emerald eyes thoughtful. 

 "...How about starting with a smile? After all, you're never fully dressed without a smile, my dear." 

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"Where are you taking me?" Mayberry asked as she trailed behind the ever-smiling demon, she couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. She kept a cautious distance between them, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings. The demon's jaunty tune echoed through the air, a stark contrast to the tension that hung heavy between them.

 "Don't be so nervous, you can trust me when I say that I mean you absolutely no harm. After all, we made a deal~" Alastor said with a wide smile on his face as he walked with a prep in his step. "Besides, we're going to a perfectly safe place that is perfect for someone like you!" 

"Well, a demon's idea of 'perfectly safe' and mine might not exactly line up, Alastor," retorted Mayberry, her voice dripping with skepticism. She continued to follow him, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. Despite the fear gnawing at her insides, there was a shred of curiosity that compelled her forward.

 "Now, now! I'm sure you'll find it quite delightful, my dear," Alastor countered, the grin never leaving his sharp-featured face. "You see, my dear Mayberry, the place we're headed to is a safe place for lost souls such as yours." 

The path they were taking started to narrow and curve around massive stone formations. Flames flickered in the distance, casting eerie shadows that moved with an uncanny rhythm.

Ignoring her strident heartbeat, Mayberry straightened her back and raised a skeptical brow at him. "A safe place? In Hell? Pardon me if I find that hard to believe."

Alastor chuckled; the sound resonated through the grim surroundings. "Oh, but it's true! Believe it or not, there are places here in Hell that offer solace and respite from the usual chaos. Places that are...well, not Heavenly per se, but certainly more pleasant than what you've seen so far." 

Mayberry, with her arms folded across her chest and a skeptical furrow in her brow, silently followed behind, casting doubtful glances at their surroundings.

As they journeyed deeper into the chaotic city, Mayberry's apprehension began to ebb, replaced by a grudging fascination. This was Hell, after all - a place of eternal damnation and misery as she had been taught. Yet, here she was, walking with a sinner who spoke of a safe place and solace.

Alastor seemed to sense the shift in her demeanor.  "Ah, feeling a bit more relaxed now, are we?" he remarked, his grin turning somewhat teasing.

"I'm not sure 'relaxed' is the right word," Mayberry grumbled, her reply a thinly veiled admission of her growing curiosity. "Intrigued, maybe."

Her eyes drank in the foreign spectacle around her, from the macabre architecture to the strange creatures that bustled to and fro. Alastor's talk of sanctuary did little to ease her lingering apprehension; the concept simply seemed too outlandish in a place like this.

"So, what are these safe places that you speak of?" She asked slowly shortening the distance between them as she glared at a passing demon that was eyeing her like a piece of meat.

Alastor, seeing this, causally waved his hand, and the demon who was staring at her was brutally ripped into thousands of pieces by his own shadow.

 "Glad to see your curiosity is piqued," Alastor replied, his voice resonating with a hint of satisfaction. He looked at the gruesome sight nonchalantly, as if ripping a demon apart was as mundane as swatting a fly. The other denizens of the underworld quickly diverted their attention elsewhere, reminded of the overlord's deadly capabilities.

 "To answer your question," he started, "these safe places aren't exactly what you humans might envision as 'safe'; rather, they are pockets of stability among the chaos - areas where the rules are clear and followed, where certain, shall we say, standards of behavior are adhered to. Places where the screams of tormented souls aren't ringing in your ears. Places you might even find...comforting. We can't be always tearing each other apart, can we? Even Hell needs its coffee breaks." 

Mayberry's heart pounded as she glanced over at the remnants of the dismantled demon. She swallowed hard, pulling her attention back to Alastor.

"Comforting?" Mayberry echoed, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She watched as his smirk evolved into a full-blown grin once more. It was infuriating how nonchalant he was about everything.

His explanation brought little comfort. Still, she couldn't deny the odd sense of relief that washed over her at his words. Maybe Hell had its strange brand of mercy too.

"And this is the place where you're taking me? A safe haven for sinners?"

 "Indeed!" Alastor replied, his smirk widening even more. "A sanctuary of sorts where even the most damned of souls can find redemption." He winked at her as if sharing a secret joke. "I think you'll appreciate its charms, my dear Mayberry."

"Charms?" Mayberry snorted, her tone laced with doubt, but she didn't protest further. Instead, she fell into step next to him, her eyes tracing the path they were on. The scenery continued to morph around them, each new sight as disturbing as the last.

Now standing side by side with Alastor, Mayberry peered at him. "And you believe in this... haven?" she queried; her tone laced with uncertainty, unable to believe someone like him could believe in redemption.

 "I believe in many things," Alastor replied, his eerie grin still in place. "And I do believe even Hell has its gentler side." He watched her closely as he spoke, his red eyes gleaming with a stark intensity that sent chills running down her spine. "You see, not everything here is as black and white as you might imagine." 

His cryptic words left her more confused than ever. But before she could press him further, she was interrupted by him as he came to an up brunt stop.

 "We're here!" Alastor exclaimed, his ruby-red eyes glinting as he grandly gestured to the broken and damaged hotel. "Welcome to the Hazbin hotel!" 

Mayberry paused, taking in the sight before her. The hotel was a behemoth, rising from the ashen grounds like a formidable phantom. Its dilapidated exterior wore a mask of neglect, yet there was a strange allure to it—an inviting air that somehow felt comforting amidst the hellish backdrop. Its once-vibrant paint had long since faded into soft hues of red and pink, chipped in places but still a striking contrast to its surroundings.

"The Hazbin Hotel?" She repeated, the words rolling off her tongue as she stared at the hotel's towering facade. "This is the safe haven you've been speaking of?"

 "Indeed," Alastor confirmed, nodding with evident pride. His grin never faltered as he watched her reactions closely, able to clearly see the doubt on her face. "Come, my dear! While the outside looks absolutely terrible, I'm sure the inside looks even worse!" 

"Such a confidence-boosting sales pitch," Mayberry dryly retorted, though a hint of amusement played at the corners of her lips. Her skepticism was still there, yet a part of her felt inexplicably intrigued by the paradoxical charm of Hazbin Hotel.

Alastor chuckled. "Well, I always believed in setting realistic expectations," he replied, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Alastor reached out to take Mayberry's hand. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze straying between him and the towering structure of the Hazbin Hotel. But eventually, she sighed and placed her hand in his. With a gentle tug, he led her towards the grand yet worn-out entrance of the hotel.

As they moved closer, the grandeur and age of the Hazbin Hotel became more apparent. Its large wooden doors, weathered by time and neglect, were covered in complex carvings. Faded murals adorned the high walls, their once-bright colors now washed out by the relentless passage of time. Despite its dilapidated state, the hotel emanated a strange sense of dignity, standing tall amidst the bedlam of Hell's ever-changing landscape.

As they approached the grand entrance of the hotel, he released her hand, and she took note of Alastor meticulously brushing off any specks of dust from his impeccably tailored suit. With a swift movement, he raised his hand and rapped three times on the ornately carved door.

Knock! Knock!

"I'LL GET IT!" a loud feminine voice screamed out from within the hotel. Mayberry jumped at the sudden declaration, but Alastor didn't even flinch. The door opened and the two sinners were greeted by the sight of a blonde-haired female demon with red frosting on her face excitedly greeting them.

"WELCOME TO THE HAPPY HOTEL!" She exclaimed, her striking red eyes twinkling with an almost childish delight.

Mayberry stared at the spectacle before her, cast into surprise by the unexpected energy and seemingly innocent demeanor of the demon girl. She peeked over at Alastor to see if he shared her shock, but his eerie smile remained unchanged.

 "Charlie!" Alastor greeted, his radio voice contrasting sharply with Charlie's bubbly tone. "I see you're still vibrant." 

The princess of hell blinked in surprise, her dark eyes widening as she caught sight of him. Not at all expecting to see his imposing figure standing before her.

Slam!

She slammed the door shut in an instant, leaving them standing outside. The echo of the slam still hung in the air as an awkward silence descended upon them.

Mayberry shot a glance at Alastor, expecting him to be angered by the abrupt dismissal. Instead, he stood there with his hands behind his back, an amused flicker dancing in his ruby-red eyes. The edges of his smile quivered slightly as he looked at the closed door.

"That was...unexpected." She remarked as she awkwardly stood beside him, trying to process what just happened.

Just as Mayberry was about to ask what was going on, the door was flung open again to reveal a very flustered Charlie wearing a warm smile that did nothing to hide her visible nervousness.

"Sorry about that," she said, an embarrassed flush creeping up her cheeks, "I was just surprised to see you, Alastor."

 "I could tell," he replied dryly.

Charlie opened her mouth to retort but then caught sight of Mayberry standing awkwardly next to him. Her eyes widened once more, but this time they held a welcoming warmth.

"Oh! Who's your friend?" she asked. Not waiting for an introduction, she turned towards Mayberry and extended her hand. "Hey there! I'm Charlie!"

Mayberry hesitated, glancing once again at Alastor before finally placing her hand in Charlie's. She was momentarily taken aback by the warmth she felt; it seemed oddly out of place in this hellish environment.

"I'm Mayberry," she replied after a moment, trying to mirror Charlie's enthusiasm, but failing.

"Nice to meet you, Mayberry!" Charlie exclaimed, giving her hand a firm shake. "Like I said before! Welcome to the Happy Hotel!"

"Uh, Thank you?" Mayberry murmured, still feeling somewhat bewildered by all that had just unfolded.

Alastor hummed as he watched the princess of hell and the newest sinner of hell greet each other. He found it amusing how the two of them were so different from each other, one being over-enthusiastic and the other one being the total opposite. 

"And what brings you here, Mayberry?" Charlie asked, her eyes brimming with curiosity. She tilted her head slightly as she waited for an answer.

Mayberry shot Alastor a glance, unsure of how much she should reveal. He simply nodded at her, indicating that she was free to speak. "I, uh," she began nervously, "I'm just following Alastor here. I... he said that this would be a safe place for demons to stay. I'm uh kind of new here."

"Oh, you're new!" Charlie's eyes lit up, a softness washing over her features as she regarded Mayberry with new understanding. "Alastor's right; the Happy Hotel is a safe place for everyone in hell! As the princess of hell, I can promise you have my guarantee! We look out for each other here!"

Mayberry's nervousness eased slightly as she nodded in response to Charlie's earnest reassurances, but a new wave of fear quickly replaced it. The fluttering butterflies in her stomach were now replaced by the looming presence of murder hornets. She couldn't believe that this seemingly innocent girl was actually a princess of hell?!

"But," Charlie started, head cocking to the side as she studied Mayberry who was now looking at her with newfound fear. "You've got a lot of questions, don't you?"

"More than I'd like," Mayberry confessed. "But one thing at a time, I guess."

"Exactly!" Charlie responded with a reassuring smile. "Let's start with a tour of the hotel to get you settled in! I'll answer any questions you may have while we walk!"

Alastor's voice rang out, cutting into their conversation, "Charlie, dear, are you sure that's a good idea? Perhaps she'd prefer to rest for the moment?" 

Mayberry's breath caught in her throat as she was taken aback by Alastor's unexpected consideration. It seemed almost out of character for the typically aloof man. Unable to help herself, she turned to look at him and found his piercing eyes fixed on her with a curious intensity.

"No, I'd like the tour," she replied, her voice firmer than it had been all day. "I want to understand where I am, besides, I was getting tired of looking at his ugly mug anyway."

"Perfect!" Charlie exclaimed, clapping her hands together with delight.

Charlie jumped to her feet eagerly, excitement radiating off her as she beckoned Mayberry in. Alastor simply gave her a dry look, but the faintest hint of amusement flickered in his eyes before he dutifully followed them into the hotel.

He watched the two figures disappear into the distance, his own steps slowing as he noticed a lone figure sitting behind a broken-down bar. Husk sat there, slumped over with a bottle of cheap booze clutched in one hand and a half-eaten cupcake in the other. 

The dim glow of the bar's remaining lights cast an eerie halo around him, highlighting the weariness in his eyes and the slump of his shoulders. The smell of alcohol wafted through the air, mixing with the sweet aroma of the cupcake that seemed out of place in this dingy setting.

"Ah, the princess found a new recruit. Ain't that sweet," Husk mumbled, without lifting his gaze from the bottle in his hand. His voice was flat, drained of any emotional content.

Walking over to the bar, Alastor leaned over its counter, eyeing the half-eaten confection.  "Husker!" he called, his voice carrying a hint of mirth, despite the dismal surroundings.

The grizzled bartender looked up from his bottle, eyes bloodshot but alert, momentarily startled by the sudden interruption. Alastor continued, still leaning on the counter, his long red coat pooling around him.  "Enjoying Vaggie's cupcakes again I see." 

Husk merely grunted in reply and took a swig of the cheap booze, grimacing as it burned down his throat. He then pointedly took a bite out of the cupcake, not taking his eyes off Alastor as he chewed defiantly.

Alastor's smile widened at the display of rebellion.

 "Well, it's always good to see you're keeping your spirits up," Alastor said, his laughter-filled voice bouncing off the worn-down walls.  "Is there any more of her sugary delights?" 

Husk merely grunted again, still staring balefully at the red-coated demon. Alastor didn't seem to mind though, his eyes twinkling with unspoken amusement.

"Nah, that was the last one," Husk replied finally, licking a few stray crumbs off his fingers. "Besides Nifty eating most of it. I don't think she made any for you."

Although Alastor's smile remained fixed, the light in his eyes dimmed ever so slightly and his shoulders slumped in a rare display of disappointment. "Well, that is unfortunate," he admitted, his gaze lingering on the eaten cupcake for just a moment before snapping back to Husk with renewed energy. "Perhaps next time." 

"Hmm," Husk murmured noncommittally, flipping the empty bottle in his hand over and scowling at its hollow interior. "Or perhaps not."

A soft chuckle escaped Alastor's lips at the bartender's gruff response, though there was something almost affectionate about it. He pushed off from the counter and straightened up, absentmindedly adjusting his bow tie as he turned to leave.

 "I should go catch up with them," he announced, though it felt more like he was trying to convince himself rather than informing Husk. "I wouldn't want to miss out on any interesting developments." 

"Sure," Husk muttered, already reaching under the counter for another bottle. He fumbled around, knocking over several empty bottles before finding a new one. He opened it with a quick, practiced motion and took a long swig, not even bothering to pour it into a glass.

Alastor watched the gruff bartender for a moment longer before finally turning away. As he walked through the vast halls of the hotel, he could hear the echoes of Charlie's jubilant chatter guiding him toward her location. He followed the sound, his footfalls matching the rhythm of his own thoughts.

He soon came to a stop however when he noticed an all too familiar figure of Vaggie walking alongside Nifty with a mop and bucket in her hands. The little demon hoping up and down in excitement with her own mini-size bucket and mop and exits with a deranged smile on her face at the thought of cleaning.

The sight stirred a chuckle out of Alastor, a wistful shake of his head following. Such a spirited demon Nifty was, so dedicated and happy over the simplest of chores. Vaggie, on the other hand, looked far more composed, though there was a resigned sort of acceptance in her gaze as she watched Nifty's antics.

 "Ah, to be that enthusiastic about cleaning," Alastor called out; his voice smooth as he neared the duo.

Vaggie froze mid-step, her grip tightening on the mop as she turned to face Alastor. His presence was akin to a surprise visit from an unpleasant relative, "What the fuck do you want, Alastor."

 "Oh, nothing much," he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand before his gaze fell on Nifty. Her face was alight with enthusiasm as she aimed to clean every inch of the impressive hotel. He couldn't help but chuckle at her zeal.

 "Just observing the hustle and bustle of the day," Alastor said, his voice laced with a whimsical tone. "I never quite understood your eagerness towards cleanliness, Nifty." 

Nifty merely giggled in response, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, Al! Cleanliness is next to godliness, don't you know?"

 "A rather ironic statement considering where we are," Alastor quipped back, earning another round of giggles from Nifty and a sigh from Vaggie.

The sight of their interaction made Vaggie roll her eyes. "Are you done interrupting our work or do you have anything else to say?" she asked, sounding more irritated than before. There was a distinct edge in her voice that suggested she had little patience for Alastor's seemingly frivolous antics.

The overlord only responded with a chuckle, his grin steady beneath the crimson glow of his eyes. "Now, now Vaggie," he cooed, the intentional sweetness of his tone contrasting sharply with her frostiness. "I was simply making conversation." He paused, peering at them with seemingly innocent curiosity.

Vaggie's eyes narrowed further, but she didn't rise to the bait. Instead, she hoisted her mop bucket a bit higher, the water sloshing around within it. Nifty, on the other hand, was still grinning widely at him. The little demon hardly seemed to notice the tension between the two larger demons, instead bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation of getting back to her duties.

"Alright then," Vaggie growled finally, her voice thick with annoyance. "I'd appreciate it if you made conversation somewhere else, Radio Demon."

"Come on, Vaggie! Let's go clean the east wing," Nifty squeaked, giving a quick, cheerful wave to Alastor before tugging at Vaggie's arm.

Vaggie only gave a curt nod in response, allowing herself to be dragged away by the smaller demon. However, she couldn't resist casting one last glance over her shoulder at Alastor, her gaze hardened with suspicion.

Alastor, for his part, stood tall and motionless, his keen gaze fixed on the two figures as they vanished around the corner. A subtle smile played at the corners of his lips, revealing nothing of his thoughts. His hands were tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored suit, exuding an air of effortless confidence. His piercing eyes followed their every move, observing with a quiet intensity.

"Fucking ass hole," Vaggie growled gripping the mop hard enough for the wood to slowly start to crack. She wanted nothing more than to stab the demon with her holy spear.

Nifty's mere giggle in response seemed to defuse Vaggie's brewing anger a bit as the small demon skipped ahead, eager to plunge into her beloved cleaning routine. Her innocent enthusiasm was contagious, and even Vaggie found herself softening a bit – the image of Alastor's smug face being pushed to the back of her mind.

Back in his solitary spot, Alastor watched them go, his amused smile never leaving his face. An echo of Charlie's laughter drifted down from the upper floors, and he glanced upwards with a wistful expression. Shaking his head to dispel the momentary sentiment, he turned on his heel and sauntered down the opposite direction of the hallway. 

"...still as beautiful as the day I lost you." He muttered to himself, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping past his otherwise impenetrable facade. As he made his way down the long, ornate hallway, he could not help but think about the past, a time when things were different and simpler.

He let a distant memory wash over him, the texture of her hair, the curve of her smile, the soft lilt of her laughter, and the warmth of her hands in his. He remembered how they used to dance, how she used to laugh at his jokes, and the way her eyes would light up with mirth.

The image was so vivid in his mind that for a moment he could almost believe she was there beside him. His steps grew slower, each footfall echoing slightly against the hotel's grand walls as his mind wandered back in time. The sound of laughter faded as he descended further into this memory replayed behind closed eyes.

She had been radiant, filled with an energy that seemed to set the world ablaze around her. Her passion had been contagious and for a while, he had allowed himself to get caught up in it. The memory of their dancing still lingered in his mind, her graceful movements matching the beat of his heart. 

Her laughter, like a melody that he couldn't get enough of, filled the room and warmed his soul. And her eyes...they were like stars, shining bright with joy and love, every time she looked at him. He could still feel the electricity between them, a connection that no words could ever fully describe.

However, those happy memories soon turn dark.

 "I-It hurts, make it stop! Make it stop!" 

Her once vibrant eyes, sparkling with life, were now empty and hollow. The warmth in her hand had seeped away, leaving behind a frigid coldness that sent shivers down his spine. The sound of her joyful laughter was replaced by a haunting silence that echoed in his mind. Each step felt like walking through quicksand as he relived the most horrifying and painful moment of his life.

Holding onto the lifeless body of Vaggie, as her soul was forcefully ripped from her, leaving behind nothing but a shell. His hand clenched involuntarily, nails digging into his palm as the pain of the memory resurfaced like an open wound.

He remembered all too well how he was useless against the merciless onslaught of their assailant. No matter how much he fought, pleaded, or begged, nothing could halt the inevitable outcome. Vaggie had fallen, and with her, a part of his world had crumbled as well.

Her life had slipped through his fingers like sand, and all he had been able to do was watch. An uncontrollable rage had boiled within him, his usually theatrical demeanor replaced by raw, unfiltered fury. He could still feel the gut-wrenching helplessness that consumed him.

 "Shall we strike a deal? Your very soul for hers. That is if you truly desire to save her." The voice of the one who took her soul spoke with a gratingly sweet tone. 

Alastor could feel the shackles that were chained to his very soul, wrapped around him like a leash. Reminding him all too well of the deal he made for her soul, the price he paid to save her only to still lose her in the end.

The sharp echo of his boot heels against the ornate marble floor brought him back to reality. He was no longer in his past; Alastor was in Hell's grandest hotel, alone in the hall. His gloved hand clenched tighter around his cane, knuckles whitening beneath the fabric.

And now all he was left with were these memories; memories that taunted him with their gleeful, twisted takes on a love lost. The phantom feeling of Vaggie's hands in his as they danced, the longing for her warm smiles and laughter - everything haunted him like vengeful specters from a past life.

Alastor found himself outside the grand dining hall. He paused as his gaze fell on the large portrait hanging above the fireplace. It was of Charlie and Vaggie - they had been caught in a moment of laughter and happiness. The picture brought a bitter taste to Alastor's mouth – it was a stark reminder of what he had lost, a love that was tragically ripped from his grasp. He continued to gaze at it pensively.

His eyes lingered on Vaggie, her smile genuine and her eyes sparkling with delight. Even in a photograph, she was beautiful. Alastor's fingers twitched as he fought against the urge to touch the portrait, to trace the lines of her face as if he could somehow bring her back.

The itch to see her again was unbearable, the need to feel her warmth against his skin overwhelming. But it was a futile endeavor. Vaggie no longer loved him - that was a fact he knew all too well.

A sudden noise from behind startled him, breaking his reverie. He briskly turned around, his gaze back to its usual sharp and steely demeanor. It was Husk, looking disheveled as always - cards in hand and a bottle of cheap whiskey tucked under his arm.

"Got lost, radio boy?" Husk's voice echoed in the grand expanse of the hall. He held his cards close to his chest, a lopsided smirk playing on his lips. His carefree demeanor was a stark contrast to the heavy thoughts that had just been coursing through Alastor's mind.

 "Not at all, Husker. Just admiring the decor," Alastor shot back smoothly, a practiced smile replacing the pensive expression he wore just moments ago. He flicked his gaze back to the portrait briefly before returning it to Husk.

"Decor huh? You've been staring at that portrait for the last ten minutes." Husk raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening into a grin. He flicked one of the cards in his hand, earning a sharp glance from Alastor.

 "That is none of your concern, " Alastor responded coldly, his grip tightening around the cane. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Well, whatever floats your boat," Husk shrugged nonchalantly, taking a swig from his bottle. With an ease that came only with practice, he shuffled the cards in his other hand single-handedly.

"Shall we play a game, Al?" He asked, flippantly flicking one of the cards at Alastor who caught it deftly, without even looking, it was the queen of hearts.

 "Perhaps another time," Alastor replied, a hint of irritation seeping into his voice. He flicked the card back at Husk who grunted in reply with a roll of his one good eye. It was clear that their brief interaction had done nothing to lighten Alastor's brooding mood.

Husk rocked back on his heels, peering curiously at Alastor. He had known him long enough to sense the melancholy hanging over him like a shroud; something he rarely saw in the usually charismatic demon. However, he knew better than to pry. They all had their demons, after all.

 "Back to the bar with you, Husker. I've no business with you today," Alastor waved him off dismissively, his gaunt face returning to its previous stone-cold smiling expression.

Husk nodded absentmindedly, already preoccupied with his deck of cards. He ambled lazily down the hall, leaving Alastor alone once more.

Once his associate had disappeared from sight, Alastor let out a heavy sigh, the weight of his memories once again threatening to crush him. 

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