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Charlie can feel Alastor’s eyes on her, flicking to and fro every time she moves between her closet and her suitcases. He’s not exactly being subtle, yet he hasn’t announced his presence, either, so she’s left to wonder whether he’s going to address her at all, or just stand there like a stalker until she finishes packing for their angelic meeting tomorrow.
She doesn’t exactly love the idea of that.
“Heyyyyyy you like fashion, right? Ruby, or scarlet?” Charlie whips around, presenting him with one hung blazer in each hand. If the action startled him, he definitely won’t show it. He hangs in the doorway to her shared room with Vaggie, hands folded over his cane, static smile stretched ear-to-ear.
“Taking care of one's appearance and ‘liking fashion’ are two very different things.” Alastor informs her, “but if you're forcing my hand, I might suggest crimson.”
Charlie lowers the blazers and frowns at them.
“I don't think Vaggie has anything in crimson.” She would ask, but after the mess Alastor had made of the Loan Sharks outside, Vaggie had organized a clean-up party with the other residents of the hotel (after a chorus of groans), and wouldn’t be returning for a while. Alastor sighs regretfully.
“Best go with scarlet, then. If you wear clashing reds, you might be mistaken to support each other less than you do. Angels can sense weakness!”
“Is that true?”
“I haven't the faintest idea! I've never met one!” his grin remains blank and fixed in place. Charlie wishes she could read him better. It’s so difficult to tell when he’s sincere– until he’s laughing in their faces. Not that Alastor really laughs in their faces at all– more like he laughs at them in general, from some distance that gives him a good view of them without having to associate with them. Honestly, she appreciates all the hard work he puts into keeping the hotel in shape, but he has to recognize that supporting someone sometimes means failing with them, even if it’s embarrassing. Those moments just make for a good laugh later!
“Okay, well… I appreciate the advice.” She reacts mildly, still off-put by his presence.
“Any time, my dear.” Alastor says over her shoulder as she folds the scarlet blazer in her suitcase. She takes deliberately longer than usual, her mind racing. Why is he here right now? What does he want? Why does he always smile? What’s with those tiny antlers? Is his suit deliberately ripped or should she buy him a new one? Wait no, focus– he’s been acting strange all day, from his weird pissing contest with her dad to that power-trip against those Loan Sharks. He’d taken a way more active role in today’s events than he usually does, and– oh, maybe he’s waiting for a thanks!
“Um, speaking of appreciation?” Charlie stretches her own smile as wide as she can muster as she stands and confronts him, though she’s pretty sure hers comes out a lot more awkward. Alastor tilts his head and raises a brow quizzically.
“It's about earlier. When my dad was here.”
“Was he? I hadn't noticed.” Alastor tilts his head further, and wow, that looks kinda uncomfortable.
“Haha, yeah, so, I– I wanted to thank you for all those things you said. I know you mostly said them to mess with him, but I think some of them were true? And that was nice of you.”
Alastor’s feigned obliviousness melts away as his head slowly rights itself on his neck like a twisting dial. “Don't you think it's rude to make assumptions about someone else's ulterior motives?”
She’s not stupid. Alastor probably thinks she is, treating her like a child and all even though she’s technically older than him, but she isn’t stupid. For every time that he helps, that he gives them advice, that he protects them, he also mocks them, abandons them for more interesting endeavors, or flat-out refuses to participate in any of their activities. Still, all those good deeds count for something, right? She knows that someday, he’ll realize he really loves all of them for real, and will also maybe stop being a big creep, and then they actually will be one big happy family– blood or not. In the meantime, she probably shouldn’t insult him, even if she knows he’s lying.
“No, yeah, you're right! Gosh, sorry. I'm just a bit nervous– and excited of course! As if I'm gonna puke, but in a good way?” she flaps her hands in joy-distress before shoving them into her closet to give them somewhere to expend their energy.
“Just be sure you don't vomit in my direction.”
“You got it!” she pulls out two bowties, “black or obsidian?”
“Do you have charcoal?”
“I do have charcoal!” she grins earnestly this time as she retrieves the color in question. See? He can be helpful, even when he’s being weird. Sometimes she simply has to get on his level, play to his interests. It wasn’t even particularly hard this time, because she enjoys doing this kind of thing, too! Vaggie usually helps her, though that involves Vaggie telling her that she looks good in everything, which is like, the sweetest thing ever? But not super useful. Before Vaggie, she remembers trying on dresses for her mom, who always assured her that if an outfit was ugly, then the outfit must be scrapped– not Charlie.
The bowtie is placed next to the blazer with care, and with her back turned to Alastor, she allows herself to slip into the nostalgia.
“I used to love when my mom helped me pick my outfits.” The air crackles, “I mean, obviously I'm grown enough to dress myself, but it's always nice to have a second opinion.” Her eyebrows crease. “I wonder if dad would like this…”
She doesn’t expect Alastor to answer the privately-spoken tail-end of the sentence, yet after a moment, he does exactly that.
“I can't imagine he would! The man's fashion sense is,” overdramatic pause for effect, “wanting.”
Charlie doesn’t roll her eyes, because that would be rude. Instead, she sits bonelessly on her bed and props her chin in her hand, pouting.
“Why don't you like him? Is it like, too much personality in one room?” if she puts herself in his shoes, she can imagine how disheartening it would be to be in the same room as someone who commands attention, if you’re usually the one at center-stage.
“‘Too much’ is right, though I'll have to take a rain-check on ‘personality’. I'll tell you if I find any.”
Nope, putting herself in his deer-toed shoes is not helping; she doesn’t get it. “He didn't really do anything to you, except I guess insult your decor? Which! I get it, right, if he insulted the rest of the hotel I'd feel hurt, too!” she rushes to make sure she’s not invalidating his feelings before she continues, “but other people insult you and you seem fine with it. Husk, for example!” Usually it’s all just water off a duck’s back to him. She’s curious how much of it is real, and how much of it is him pretending that it doesn’t get under his skin.
“Husk,” Alastor hisses, “may be a foul-mouthed grouch, but he knows when enough is enough.”
“I just think that if you gave it a shot, you might realize you have a lot in common!” surely he can see that a petty rivalry won't win them any favors.
“The mere thought terrifies me!”
“Making friends can be scary–”
“Not what I meant.”
“-but all you have to do is start small, think of something you both like! Like– ooh ooh!” she claps her hands and jumps to her feet, “you both play instruments!”
“A fiddle and a piano? They're doomed to fail.”
“Oookay, well,” Charlie starts unwittingly pacing, a habit that drums up ideas while only making her seem a little bit crazy, “you both love theatrics. And who doesn't, right?”
“Precisely! It is not so much a virtue as it is the bare minimum to be virtually interesting.”
So what else do they have in common? Come on Charlie, think! They’re both incredibly obnoxious? Sure, but no need to be mean. They both care about her? Yeah, but she doesn’t want to insert herself between them. She believes a big hug and a heart-to-heart would fix a lot of their problems? Alastor might not take that one well.
Charlie sucks in a loud breath and whirls on Alastor.
“You both have coattails!”
Alastor levels her with as flat a look as he can manage while still maintaining that smile.
“What a riveting icebreaker. I, for one, could talk about my coattails for hours!”
She points aggressively at him, not easily swayed. “Sarcasm! He's pretty good at that!”
Alastor definitely isn’t impressed by that one. She can do better than that– but before she can get a conspiracy board going, Alastor dissolves into shadow and rematerializes next to her, stopping her in her tracks. He puts a hand on her shoulder and gently pushes her to sit down on the bed again.
“Charlie, it has been a long day. Perhaps you should save your problem-solving skills for your trip to Heaven?”
She feels distinctly as though she’s being scolded, especially with Alastor now towering over her. She avoids his gaze, ashamed about getting worked up, but not enough to completely give up.
“I'm not going to apologize for my dad being here, because we made up and I'm really happy about that and everything's going really great even if the extermination is really really really soon, but I am sorry that he ruined your mood.”
“Ruined my mood? Ha! If only he were so privileged! No, I had a perfectly pleasant day.”
“Even though you had to cast your friend away from the hotel?”
“Mimzy can take care of herself! I have enough messes to clean around here, already.”
The frustration rises. He deflects at every corner, putting a new obstacle in place when she thinks she's defeated the last one. She's doing her best to empathize, here.
“You know, it's okay if today wasn't great! I was super stressed even if it all turned out fine.” So fine, in fact, that she almost expects something to go wrong. No need to worry, though! As long as she holds her dream close and her head up high, she can show those angels what for– with a well-organized presentation and a polite display of her winning personality.
“I’m not fond of repeating myself. I am, however, downright chipper.” He says dryly. Okay, she’s definitely annoying him; whatever! Sometimes you need to annoy people to get through to them. Alastor has, what, fifty walls to break down? Charlie built a hotel. She can handle fifty walls.
“But I don’t think you’re being truthful, and I want to help you.”
The air stills.
“Oh.” The air seems to fizz then, as Alastor’s eyes go wide, and he brings a hand to his mouth. He spins on his heel and stares out of the red window across from the bed, and– oh, holy shit. Has nobody ever told him they want to help him? Is this a breakthrough already? Charlie’s heart pounds in her chest at the idea. She just hopes she hasn’t upset him in the process.
“Oh.” Alastor echoes, then, “I see what the issue is!”
“Uh– you do?” Charlie leans over to try and get a glimpse of his expression– not that that would do her any good. Alastor saves her the effort anyway, when he takes a seat next to her on the bed and maintains direct eye-contact.
“You’re projecting.”
Charlie leans so far back so suddenly that she almost falls off the bed. “W-What? How could I be projecting? I genuinely had a fantastic day.”
Alastor rematerializes on her right, “Did you?” then on her left, so she’s forced to search for him when he disappears and reappears, “You may have reconciled with your father, but how conditional is this new bond, how fragile? Will he be there for you in your darkest hour?”
“Well he–”
“And speaking of darkest hour, the extermination approaches, you have had no new residents at the hotel for months, and there is no telling how the angels will react to your proposal.”
“I’m sure they–”
“And Vagatha certainly seemed reluctant to join you; perchance she believes your efforts will turn up fruitless?”
“Enough.” Charlie manages to land an accusing finger on Alastor's chest when he ends up directly in front of her. She doesn’t remember standing, nor does she remember getting so angry– yet when he looks down at her nail on his suit, she doesn’t move it. “Alastor, I’m trying to be nice.”
He takes the initiative and steps back, both hands raised as if surrendering. “Oh Charlie, so am I! I’m only putting things into perspective.”
“But you– you’re–” Charlie groans, clutching her head, “no! No matter what you think, I know that I can win Heaven over. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and I won’t let it go to waste! I’ve got this!”
“And I believe you! Still, you can’t possibly be so cheerful with all that’s been happening around here. It might be a good idea to confide in someone. Aren’t you the one who said that it’s nice to have a second opinion? Letting someone in on your plans may ease the burden on you!” everything he’s saying sounds… reasonable. That’s the problem, he tends to be mostly right, even if he’s being an asshole about it. She bets it goes straight to his head, with those inexplicably tiny antlers, and those deceptively adorable deer ears. Maybe his animal-ish demonic form is a window into the secretly-good nature of his soul?
Yeah, right.
Charlie lets out a long sigh and flops across the width of the bed. “You’re right. I’ll talk to Vaggie.”
Alastor clears his throat, “is it wise to talk to someone who is so personally invested? Emotions become complicated at such close range!”
“I mean, that’s the point. I know she has my back no matter what, so I should be honest with her. We practically share everything as-is.” She stares at the bed’s canopy, willing it to be tomorrow already. If they get a good win in, if they can make a good case for the hotel, then everything will be good. She just wants everything to be good.
“Uh-huh.” Alastor sounds– what is that, bummed? Charlie rights herself quickly, molding her worry into empathy again and tossing it at him
“But! If you ever need someone to confide in, I’m always so so happy to listen!”
“I’m sure you are!” Alastor mimics her tone cheerfully. He taps his mic-cane against the floor. “Well! This conversation has been delightful, but I can feel it hitting a wall, so I think I’ll bid my adieus.”
With a twirl of his cane, he strides easily towards the door. Charlie watches him, and realizes that she feels more stressed about tomorrow, today, him, everything. There’s nothing she can do about any of it right now, except possibly try one more time to reach out to the one problem that is directly in front of her.
“Alastor, it would give me peace of mind if I knew you were alright before I went to Heaven.”
He tilts his head backwards at her, and the next words that come out of his mouth seem to validate every single doubt looming over her shoulders: “Remember what happened the last time you pried into someone else’s life so relentlessly?”
She thinks about Angel, about how she could have done something, about how she shouldn't have, and how she would have messed up everything for the both of them either way.
“When did you hear about…?” She hadn’t even been the one to fix that, and he forgave her anyway! What if she isn’t so lucky the next time? If she can’t fix the problems at her own hotel, what does that say for The Problem of all of Heaven and Hell? She knows she’s right about her plan, and she knows she can do it, but if she can’t convince Heaven of that…
“Have a nice night, and don’t focus too hard on what’s ahead. Don’t get distracted either, this requires your full attention!” Alastor taps his right temple with his microphone, jarring Charlie momentarily out of her spiral. If she smiles wide enough, she can reinstill her own confidence.
“Of course! Um, goodnight, Alastor.” She waves hesitantly, “the offer is always open.”
“I don't doubt it!”
Charlie's gaze drifts to the window before she can see him leave. The recesses of her mind become a checklist of the things she hasn't accomplished yet, her insides doing gymnastics around the prospect of failing at the meeting. Outside, one block of Pentagram City is raining fire, another acid, and a third, blood. None of those will summon a rainbow. Maybe, if she does manage to fix things, if her people can find redemption, they will also find real rainbows in Heaven.