Chapter Text
A ball of black shadow appeared in Alastor’s room. It burst like a bubble and inky cloud rolled away shot through with poisonous green flashes of light. At the centre stood Alastor, and as soon as he materialised there, he began moving scattering the remaining shadows, every movement communicating disgust.
In his haste, his jacket, vest, and shirt are thrown in a pile on the floor, his suspenders still hung from the beltline of his slacks as he strode into the bathroom.
“I can’t believe he did that!” He growled as he ran water in the sink and began washing his chest with a soapy cloth.
His shadow moved on the wall behind him, visible in the mirror, shaking a finger at him.
Alastor narrowed his eyes at it and tightened his grin. “I know I started it, that’s not the point! He broke the rules of our game!”
Turning his attention back to his chest, he looked at the long thin scar that trailed from one shoulder across his chest almost to the opposite hip. The injury from his fight would have ended him if he hadn’t been forced to accept help from Lucifer several months ago. Only the offer of a truce of sorts had convinced Alastor to agree.
It wasn’t a deal per se, just an agreement that their bickering would not cause property damage, and of greater interest to Alastor, would involve no touching. For Charlie’s sake.
That Lucifer not only touched him but applied bodily fluids, which in the healing process Lucifer learned that Alastor abhorred (except for blood), was beyond the pale.
With a wordless growl, Alastor went back to the bedroom and put on a clean shirt before examining the soiled clothing that he had tossed aside. Thankfully, it all looked salvageable, though his favourite coat would have to be dry cleaned.
The disgust was gone, but the anger remained with a touch of betrayal and surprise.
Over the past few months, the game of getting under each other’s skin had been played without a single breach of boundaries until now. Alastor hadn’t realised that somehow he had built a level of trust in Lucifer, who had stuck to his promise even without the force of a formal deal behind their agreement.
As he finished sorting the soiled clothing, Alastor noticed his shadow watching him closely. He turned then and went to his closet. He chose a black vest that was his second favourite and an older red coat with black lapels that he rarely wore anymore. Satisfied with the familiar weight of layers of cloth, he walked over to his fireplace and gazed into the ever present green glow that originated in the hearth. Now the anger had cooled to a simmer, roiling beneath the surface. One generally does not become an overlord by going off half-cocked.
“Why are you so interested? I’m not going to kill him.” Alastor sneered. The shadow mimed a full bodied expression of relief, a hand on it chest and shoulders dropping.
“Neither can I let it go without punishment, though. It sets a bad precedent. If I forgive a minor agreement, then other agreements and deals come into question, and it’s a slippery slope.”
Alistor still had duties to attend to, but he wanted to find a fit punishment for this breach of contract. As much as he was loath to admit it, he was becoming fond of Charlie and would rather not upset her. Vaggie would happily take the excuse to test her angelic spear against him as well. It could be a tipping point that brings down the whole project, and then where would he be? It would be entertaining enough, but short lived.
He called his shadow forward. “I need more information. You will observe him for me and report back. Information is power and we’re up against the most powerful being in hell.”
The shadow bowed in agreement then disappeared. Alistor called forth his microphone cane, dropping into the shadows in a corner of the room himself. He can’t show how much Lucifer’s slight against him has affected him, so it’s business as usual, as much as possible.
Let's put on a show.