Chapter Text
"Human souls? Quite rare indeed. So, what do you want from me?"
…
"Deal."
…
"You lost. It's time to execute our agreement."
"Please! I beg for your mercy!"
…
"Deal."
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"I can save you, but what price are you willing to pay for your miserable life?"
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"Deal."
…
Alastor abruptly opens his eyes in the darkness. The pointers in his pupil whirl wildly, while the furniture in the room shudders violently. Thankfully, he has erected a barrier around his quarters, ensuring that whatever occurred within remained concealed from the other guests in the hotel.
He runs a hand over his face, the flawless smile firmly in place. Satisfied, he straightens his attire, rises from the sofa, and draws back the curtains. There was no sun in Hell, no distinction between day and night, only the perpetually burning sky casting a fiery red light over the land.
For the decedents, eating and sleeping are not necessary, for one couldn't die twice in hell. But hunger and weariness will never excuse the sinners, which is a way of torturing and may weaken them. Whenever possible, it was advisable to maintain a semblance of human routine.
And indeed, it had been a long day. Hazbin Hotel stood as a frontline bastion against *the Extermination*. Alastor directly faced Adam, the ancestor of humans, and was so close to being killed, which pricked him of the shackles that bound him. Feeling an uncommon pang of fatigue, he decided to take respite for a while.
Alastor casts a glance at the clock. Wonderful, three in the morning! After that nightmare, he can hardly muster the inclination to sleep again tonight. So, how to while away time?
He could rouse Husk and share a drink, but he could already hear the old cat's grumbling in his mind. Besides, Alastor has other plans for him and isn't in the mood to tease him at the moment.
Rosie is likely still busy tallying the casualties among the cannibals and attending to matters within her territory. It wouldn't be wise to disturb her for mere amusement.
As for heading to some random bar? Alastor prefers solitude or engaging in light, superficial conversation. Of course, he could clear out a place, but tonight, he simply wants to be Alastor, not the Radio Demon.
Perhaps patrolling the hotel? Ah, the diligent executive manager, committed to his duties. It seems like a reasonable choice.
He melds into the shadows, navigating the hallways. Each room is cloaked in darkness, interrupted only by the occasional snore or strange murmur.
These fools pay him no mind, holding no expectations or malice towards him. Being around them isn't unpleasant.
He meticulously explores every corner before descending to the lower levels. In his moments of despair, these resilient souls have rebuilt the entire building. Foreseeably, sinners will flock here seeking "redemption" or "sanctuary" soon, only to spiral back into despair after a fleeting glimmer of hope. Oh, it will be quite the spectacle. They'll likely blame Charlie's incompetence, which promises to be quite a lively show.
As he reaches the lobby, Alastor emerges from the shadows. Having caught up with the new situation at the hotel, he decides it's best to wander the streets or perhaps initiate a broadcast to rouse those sinners he cares little for…
He pauses mid-step as he spots someone he feels obliged to greet sitting by the fireplace—Lucifer Morningstar.
Though they despised each other and exchanged "polite greetings" at first sight, Lucifer is the ruler of Hell. And Alastor is not a savage, thus he feels compelled to maintain a certain level of decorum.
Approaching the sofa, Alastor finds Lucifer motionless. Perhaps he's dead, Alastor considers hopefully, though he knows well that Lucifer is simply choosing to ignore him.
"Good evening, Your Majesty," Alastor clears his throat, adopting his sweetest and most sickening tone.
Lucifer's hat shifts slightly, a response of sorts. Damn arrogance, Alastor squints, suddenly feeling that harassing the Lord of Hell could be an entertaining pastime. He settles into the sofa opposite Lucifer.
"It's late. Why aren't you asleep?" Alastor asks.
Lucifer lazily raises his eyes. "I'm not mortal. No need for such things."
So, Charlie's need for sleep is probably due to Lilith's lineage, Alastor guesses. Before he can speak, Lucifer wears a malicious grin. "And you? Having nightmares, I presume."
Even if it's likely just a bluff, Alastor can't help but feel annoyed. His smile grows even brighter. "Why would I? I simply don't require as much sleep. And you," he deliberately surveys Lucifer from head to toe, "though you don't need sleep, here you are, alone in the lobby, enduring the night. Are you too lonely with no one to interact with?"
Lucifer's smile now mirrors Alastor's own. "I'm simply not interested in this pathetic place. Still trying to find pleasure in it? I pity you, loser."
He pronounces the word "loser" so soft and kind as if filled with genuine compassion. For such a proud and arrogant figure, it's a disgrace. Alastor feels his patience snap once again.
"Fuck you."
Just like their first conversation, it ends with this phrase.
They glare at each other for a while before Lucifer calmly continues, "When I said this to Adam today, Charlie told me the correct phrasing should be *fuck you up*."
Alastor doesn't feel embarrassed; after all, he has spoken those words with genuine intention. He's just annoyed at being provoked by Lucifer once again, so he subtly changes the subject. "You defeated Adam today."
Lucifer shrugs indifferently. "I could've defeated him any day."
"But in the end, it wasn't you who killed him?"
Lucifer remains silent for a moment. "It wasn't necessary."
Was it unnecessary, or was he incapable? But Adam still died in the end. What will Heaven's reaction be next? Alastor's mind is flooded with thoughts, but he knows that even if Lucifer can only speak the truth, there are many ways to dodge weighty matters. Thus, he opts for the most predictable response. "Oh, may I taste his body?"
Lucifer visibly frowns, showing his disgust. "Go ahead."
Alastor immediately stands up, deliberately bends low, and leans close to Lucifer. "Thank you for your approval. Excuse me, I'm off to find some unique delicacies."
He leaves the hall without a second thought. His shadow slaves report that Lucifer remains seated by the fireplace, still as a statue, lost in thought.