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"Ooh! You look so pretty in red, Miss Angel!" a short, red-haired cyclops squeaked as she tied a bow around Angel's waist.
"I-I'm a guy, but thanks," Anthony murmured, blushing nonetheless. "This is a really nice dress, too..."
The cyclops giggled and hopped around until she got up to his lap with a golden compact in her hands. She opened it, grabbed a makeup brush, and started swiping the brush across his face like she was a furious artist. He didn't dare move while she worked, and she didn't tell him to move. If she needed to reach another part of his face, she just jumped or climbed up to his shoulder. In any other situation, Anthony would've shoved her off and ran away, but he didn't because 1.) she was really sweet and reminded him of Molly, and 2.) Alastor had told him to let the cyclops-- Niffty, he'd called her-- "fix him up" a bit.
Like that wasn't a hit to his low self esteem.
Still, Alastor had been right. Anthony had seen his reflection, after all, and Adam had made his mark on him: his right eye was now completely black, save for his pink pupil, his back now bore two long scars where his wings had been torn out, there were faded pink spots and hearts all over his fur and hair from dried demon blood, his teeth were now sharpened into fangs, and he'd acquired six tiny eyes under his normal two that, when he forced them shut, managed to look like strange freckles. Granted, those last two may not have been completely Adam's fault, but Anthony blamed him anyways. After all, he wouldn't be poisoned by Hell if Adam hadn't attacked him.
Niffty, for her part, didn't really inquire about his past. Either she didn't care, or Alastor hadn't told her about Anthony being a fallen exorcist. Either way, she chatted to him about everything else under the pentagram: the weather, fashion, the state of the building, her last trip to the market, a bug she saw, etc. etc.. Her radiant optimism, while unusual, was a welcomed distraction from the pain and sorrow Anthony had been dealing with. And even her wild strokes across his face were gentle and a bit ticklish. Her brush strokes made it hard not to laugh or sneeze, but he resisted the urge.
After a couple minutes, she threw the brush away and jumped off Anthony's lap with an eager smile. "There! That nasty burn is gone and those icky spots are hearts! Wow, you're a looker under all that muck! Alastor sure does know how to pick new minions!"
New minions... right. Of course, Anthony hadn't been fool enough to expect that Alastor wanted him to stay simply because he liked him. He'd met people like Alastor before; mobsters and perverts who enjoyed his body more than his personality. Strangely enough, Alastor didn't seem to care about his body all that much, but maybe he didn't need his body to access his soul or grace or whatever gave demons power. Maybe it was his knowledge Alastor wanted. Or maybe he believed that he could hold Anthony hostage and ransom him.
He stood up, the skirt of his silky red dress fluttering just past his knees as he did, and Niffty took that opportunity to readjust the bow around his waist and bat at the end ribbons. Then she scurried to his front to ensure nothing else was out of place, only to notice his maudlin expression.
"What's wrong?" she asked. "Does the powder not feel good? Is the bow too tight? Oh, I haven't been talking too much, have I?"
"No, no, it's not that," Anthony assured her. "I just... miss my sister. I wish I was with her."
He downcasted his eyes his eyes at the thought: Molly, his beloved twin, waiting for him to return at the door of his apartment. She was probably worried sick by the time Adam showed up, and devastated when he'd told her that Anthony had died or fallen. He wished he could go see her, comfort her, reassure her that he was fine and that she wasn't alone. But without his wings or a portal to Heaven, all he could do was wish.
Suddenly, he felt Niffty's arms wrap around one of his legs. He looked at her, confused, as she gently pet his leg.
"I'm sorry you can't be with your sister," she said. "Please don't be sad, I promise things will get better. Alastor is a really good boss. He takes great care of his employees, protects us if we're in trouble, and he's just really sweet overall! He's a wonderful person if you just get to know him, and he seems to really like you already!"
Anthony gave a weak chuckle and gently pet her head. "Thank you, Niffty. That's really nice to know."
Niffty gave him a wide grin and released his legs. "That's wonderful! Now let's go greet Alastor's guests! I hear they're really important!"
She scurried to the door with great excitement and Anthony allowed himself a moment to mourn the loss of his sister, of his life. He'd always expected to end up in Hell, being the son of a mobster and having once been a part of the family business, but it seemed that his decision to leave the business along with Molly and work in the hospital had granted him a ticket to the pearly gates. Sure, Sera had been horrible to them and Adam was overtly sexist and condescending, but Anthony and Molly finally had a safe home and a safe environment. And now, because he'd been sympathetic and refused to kill, he'd lost it all. And now, he was indebted and enslaved to an overlord demon.
He took a breath. In. Out. Then, he put on a fake smile and followed Niffty out the door, ready to take on his new life.
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Alastor readjusted his coat for what felt like the thousandth time. The other overlords were late, and he hated when people were late. He and his minions had put so much effort into tidying up his penthouse, after all! All the sweeping, polishing, washing, and cooking they'd done was all going to go to waste simply because the others were "too important" to respect Alastor.
Very well. He'd teach them some respect... eventually. He just needed a little more power.
"Alastor!~" Niffty's eager voice called from down the hallway. "We're ready! Are they here yet?"
"No, unfortunately not, my dear," Alastor responded. "Quite rude, if I do say so."
Niffty huffed in agreement, much to Alastor's pleasure. "Well! It's been half an hour! They might as well not come at all!"
"Maybe they're having issues with traffic?" Angel's lovely voice suggested bashfully from the guest room.
"Well, then they better apologize!" Niffty snapped stubbornly.
"I should hope they will," Alastor said. "Come on out, my Angel. Let me have a look at you."
There was a moment of hesitation, but an extra (literal) nudge from Niffty made him step out of the room. And if Alastor's heart could still beated, it would have stopped right then and there. With the beautiful, long sleeved, shiny silk dress that Rosie had gifted him, the white stockings, black pumps, light blush, and the red rose in his fluffy white hair, Angel looked positively darling. Not even his deformed eye took away from his beauty. And the smile on his face just brought a warmth to Alastor's chest that he could not deny. Still, he kept up his nonchalant smiling expression and beckoned Angel forth. Angel complied and, once he was close enough, Alastor took one of his upper hands and placed a kiss on his knuckles.
"You are absolutely lovely, my darling," he said, casting his eyes up to Angel's heavily blushing face, "Heaven truly is a fool's ground for throwing you out. Oh, well. Their loss is my gain, after all."
Angel's blush and smile vanished in an instant, and Alastor immediately regretted bringing up Heaven. But before he could apologize one of his elevators dinged and he immediately straightened up. The door opened, and in hurried Rosie with a lovely crocheted bag.
"Alastor!" she greeted warmly. "I am terribly sorry for being late-- the butchery was closed! Can you believe it! The audacity-- but I brought a present to make up for it!" And she held the bag out for Alastor to take. "I saw it and thought of you while I was running up."
Alastor accepted the bag, and looking inside he saw several cuts of red meat-- a bull-type sinner, if he had to guess-- all packaged and trimmed rather neatly.
"How thoughtful of you, Rosie," Alastor told her. "I always appreciate a pick-me-up, especially from you. Come, have a seat."
Rosie bowed her head with a smile and headed over to the long table, where Angel was already pulling out her designated seat.
"Oh, thank you hon," Rosie sighed. "You must be Angel, a pleasure to finally meet you! Alastor's been talking quite a bit about you, dearie!"
Only Alastor seemed to notice Angel's tiny flinch, but he kept up that fake smile. "Has he? All good things, I hope?"
"Oh, absolutely," Rosie assured him as she sat. "Apparently, you've been quite a wonderful house guest, and he enjoys your presence, right Alastor?" And she sent him a teasing smirk."
"I have no idea what you are talking about, my friend," he lied before turning back to the elevator as it opened. "Ah, hello again Husker! And-- now who is this?"
The gambling overlord shifted and looked over at the young siren demon with a smile. "This is my newly promoted right hand, Gray. She's been helping me stay on top of everything. I must apologize for the lateness, by the way, the debris from the last Extermination hasn't been cleared, so we had to fly all the way here and, well, you know how well that goes." He grimaced and readjusted his gold bowtie.
Yes, Alastor did know what it was like to try and go out as an overlord. He could only imagine how many reporters bothered him during his flight. The young siren, sensing the discomfort, offered Husker a flask, which he gladly accepted. But before he took a swig, he waved his staff and conjured a bottle of Belzian Wine, which just so happened to be Alastor's favorite.
Pleased, Alastor accepted the bottle, allowing Husker and the young demon to make their way over to the table with Rosie and Angel. Alastor ignored their pleasantries as two more figures emerged from the elevator: Zestial and Carmilla Carmine.
"Welcome to my humble abode!" Alastor exclaimed. "I was quite surprised when you asked to hold a meeting in my penthouse, Miss Carmine... only to be 35 minutes late."
"Apologies, Alastor," Zestial said with a low bow. "Unfortunately, thine sinners have taken to panic and wrath over the Extermination. Dearest Carmilla was forced to correct thy souls."
"Is that so?" Alastor asked, not quite convinced. "I suppose I should expect a retelling on the picture show?"
"That would be unnecessary, " Carmilla said with a tight glare. "There were none around during our travel. Are we all here?"
"Everyone that matters," Alastor responded, guiding them over to the table as his shadow set about dishing out the meal the servants had prepared: roasted hell beef and a rack of lamb served with jambalaya.
"Good," Carmilla sighed, sitting right next to Zestial as Husker's servant poured her some wine.
Good thing that bastard is always prepared, Alastor thought. "Now then! Shall we get this meeting started?"
"Indeed," she answered. "Now, I must stress that this meeting stays among us. This concerns the fate of a fallen exorcist."
Alastor felt Angel stiffen behind him. He reached back and grabbed one of Angel's hands, gently squeezing it to calm him down.
Husker, who didn't look as confused nor as surprised as Alastor was expecting, readjusted his bowtie once more as his servant poured him a tall glass of wine. After a long sip, he looked over at Carmilla. "I thought this might come up. Carmilla, I've advised you not to do it like this."
"I took your advice into consideration," Carmilla told him curtly. "However, this is a matter that WE must deal with."
"What are you talking about?" Alastor asked, looking between the two. "Is there something you two know of that you ṡ̴̢̠̦̗̖͎̲̩͎̻̪͒̋ͅḧ̵̞̺̫̰̹͚̗̱͓̆͊̊͠͠͝ͅo̸̢̨̬̤̥͉̮͂̋̓̅̊̌̓̋̚ȕ̷̗̖̝͕̖̬̀͛͗̅͛͊̔̿̅̊͝l̷͍̾̅̈́̌͋̾̓͝͠d̴͍͙̯̯̟͍̏̆ń̸̙̻̀̊̊̕'̸̠̙̀͒̔̒̃̏͋t̴̨͉̩͙̟̘̗̪̙̝̐̐͊́̇͌̾̕͝ͅ?"
Neither of them answered. Instead, it was Zestial who reached for Alastor's shoulder and gave him a firm look.
"My friend, we all know of your act," he confessed.
Unable to believe what he was hearing, Alastor looked back at Husker and Rosie. Neither of them looked confused or shocked. Instead, they looked remorseful, and Rosie looked a bit sheepish. Even Husker's servant had a knowing expression, and even dared to shoot Angel a glance.
Alastor straightened up, a strange sense of betrayal stinging in his chest. "So... this is less of a meeting and more of an ambush."
"Not necessarily, no," Carmilla said. "Like I said, the confines of this meeting will stay among us. We only want to know what you're doing and why."
Alastor squeezed Angel's hand again, and he received a squeeze in turn. "I'm harboring him. Is there an issue with that?"
"An exorcist, Alastor," Husker reminded him. "One covered in demon blood. Why would you want to harbor that?"
He hesitated, looking to Angel before he confessed, Angel was pale as a ghost and trembling like a mad man, but he nodded.
Alastor sighed. "When he cornered us... he refused to hurt the children. He didn't know about hellborn in the Pride ring... only his superior did. He let us get away and confronted the head exorcist."
"It's true," Rosie concurred. "I talked to the children."
"So a rogue angel, then?" Carmilla asked. "But that still doesn't explain why you are the one holding him."
"I said harbor, not hold," Alastor growled.
"Alastor..." Zestial warned.
But Carmilla understood. Her eyes narrowed at the Radio Demon and her fingernails dug into his mahogany table. "You are protecting an exorcist who has slain hundreds-- possibly thousands-- of our people... because he spared you?"
Alastor didn't respond. Carmilla's eyes darkened and her expression turned furious as she started to stand, but Husker beat her to the punch.
"Carmilla, wait," he commanded. "Think about it rationally: of all of us, who is most likely to get the exorcist to open up to them? And on top of that, Alastor is one of the most powerful overlords in Hell. He can keep the angel safe from the other exorcists should they try to kill him before he can speak. Alternatively, he could torture whatever we need to know out of the angel."
"Husker is correct, my friend," Zestial gently told Carmilla. "In addition, all overlords would have access to the angel in Alastor's dwellings. Mayhaps thy anger is unnecessary, yet justified."
Carmilla considered this, though that stormy expression never left her face. Still, she eventually sat back down and took on a mask of calm indifference.
"Very well, then," she said. "However, we will be questioning your exorcist in the coming days. Should you resist, Alastor..."
"I accept your request, Carmilla," Alastor replied, his smile widening a bit when he saw her eye twitch. "If that is all, shall we dig in?"
"Oh, that would be lovely," Rosie sighed. "Such a lovely roast beef, Alastor, where did you find this?"
"Just a new butcher shop in the west end of the Pentagram," he replied lively, picking up his knife and fork. "I believe I saw a bit of mammoth meat in there. You might like it, Rosie, it's called the Chop Chop."
Rosie chuckled. "Now that's a peculiar name! Right, dearie?"
"Creative," Husker's servant responded, pouring Rosie a generous glass of wine.
Husker chuckled. "Ease up on the wine, Gray, otherwise Rosie might start strip teasing again."
Rosie gasped in mock-offense. "It was one time! Have you told your right hand the things you get up to after too many bottles?"
"I don't have to; she's seen it all," Husker responded, patting the siren's shoulder when she returned to his side.
Rosie shook her head and looked over to Alastor. "The poor girl."
Alastor laughed. "Certainly she hasn't seen you deep throat a pineapple, my friend!"
"I'm sorry, a what, boss?" the siren gasped with excitement to rival Niffty's.
Speaking of: "Or a tree!"
"Okay, that's enough!" Husker shouted with a face redder than Alastor's suit.
Laughing at the sight of the siren trying to placate him, Alastor turned to smile at Angel, only to notice that same sad look he'd been wearing before, when Alastor had brought up Heaven throwing him out.
Poor dear's had the scare of his afterlife, he thought. Who knows what he's been thinking this whole time?
He squeezed Angel's hand a third time, and Angel looked at him with the beginnings of a weak smile. In response, Alastor brought his knuckles up to his face and kissed them once more. This time when he pulled away, he summoned a ruby ring around Angel's fingers. This brought another blush to Angel's face, and Alastor caressed his hand.
"You're mine, mon ange, mine forever," he whispered. "No one will take you from me, they'd die trying."
Angel looked away from Alastor, but Alastor could see the affectionate smile gracing his face. A real smile.
And as Alastor stared at his blushing angel's face, he felt a real smile breaking through his forced one at long last.