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There were only a couple weeks left before the extermination, and Rosie was violently anxious. All of her people had been spending time at the Hazbin Hotel, being trained to kill exorcists by its owner and residents. And when having curiously asked her cannibals what the strategy was, she’d found out her nearest and dearest friend was going to be the one to take on the first man, Adam.
She understood why. Barring the princess of Hell, Alastor was the most powerful person at the hotel. And unlike the princess, Alastor had the eager willingness to kill and maim. From that angle, him going against Adam made perfect sense. But they didn’t know Alastor like Rosie did. They couldn’t see that something was wrong. They couldn't see the dread hanging around his neck like a noose.
It was easy to piece together that something bad had happened to him while he'd been gone. Something that had left him in shambles that he was desperately trying to keep together and pretend wasn't broken. The fear and paranoia in his eyes were telling.
When he'd came to her emporium with the princess in tow to ask for her help, he kept glancing around, as if making sure he wasn't being watched. Rosie would look when she could, but she never saw anything out of the ordinary.
He'd said he was working on it back at the overlord meeting, but after nearly six months, he didn't look any better. In fact, he almost looked worse. There was an ever-present tension in how he held himself, and his brilliant smile never quite reached his eyes. And while Alastor had always been slender, Rosie couldn't help but notice that he'd seemed to have gotten thinner.
To say she was concerned was an understatement.
So here she was at the hotel to try and finally get some answers, or at least offer him some help before he went off to battle. Her people excitedly waved in her direction, and she waved back with a wide grin. Despite all her worries, Rosie was still the Cannibal Overlord and she had appearances to keep up. Charlie had spotted her from across the courtyard and came running up to her before Rosie had even made it to the front steps of the hotel.
“Hello!” Charlie greeted, grin wide. She looked a little frazzled but earnestly excited, “We’ve made a lot of progress training your people. They’ve caught on really fast and we’ve only had a few incidents with some of them trying to eat the other guests. I think some of them are—”
Rosie held up a hand to calm her down, “That’s lovely, dear, but I’m here for a different reason.”
“Oh, sorry,” she said and stood up a little straighter, “What do you need exactly?”
“Well, I was hoping to talk to Alastor. Is he inside?”
“I believe so, yes.” Charlie glanced up to the radio tower jutting from the building without a thoughtful hum, “It doesn’t look like he’s on air, so he’s probably in his room. I can take you there, if you want.”
Rosie smiled, “Lead the way, Princess Morningstar.”
Charlie took the time to also point some of the commodities as she led her though the hotel. She made special mention of anything that Alastor had left a personal touch on, and Rosie appreciated it. It was fun to see such a clash of styles as well. Oh, how Alastor must constantly be seething at the circus decor. Rosie thought it was charming.
They were several floors up when they stopped at a door with various symbols scratched into the wood. If Rosie remembered the old etches and explanations Alastor had showed her years ago, these were supposed to be protective wards. A pit had formed in her stomach as Charlie let her be and Rosie was left alone in the hallway.
She sighed before rapping her knuckles against the wood, “Alastor, darling, it’s Rosie!”
The door opened almost immediately with a beaming Alastor to greet her, “Rosie! What a surprise to see you here.”
He stepped aside to let her in. Rosie stepped through and looked around, admiring his decor. Before the wood floors and red walls gave way to a beautiful bayou, he’d hung up several photos of a swampy landscape and skeletal fixtures of various creatures. The alligator above his desk with hanging lights was especially eye catching.
“Very you,” she commented, gesturing across his space. With a teasing grin, she asked, “Should I feel offended that you never invited me to help decorate? I know you love my morbid taste.”
Alastor laughed and guided her to sit by the fireplace, “I thought about it, but I know you’re a busy woman and I didn’t want to take you away from your people.”
They sat across from each other, and Rosie took a moment to observe him. With the tension in his shoulders and dark circles under his weary eyes, he looked utterly exhausted. Wrecked and without any relief. He looked like he was barely holding himself together. But of course she was the only one who could see it. The others didn’t know him like she did.
“So,” Rosie started, “I heard through the grape vine that you’re going to be the one to take on Adam?”
Alastor’s grin was fiendish, “Indeed! Charlie seemed quite concerned about the possibility of anybody going up against the first man, so I happily volunteered.”
“And I’m sure the poor thing is worrying over your safety now, huh?”
“Charlie frets over the roaches Niffty kills,” Alastor said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Rosie couldn’t help the chuckle escaping her. But then she sighed.
“Well, I hate to say it, but I’m also worried about you, Alastor.”
“Don’t be, darling,” he said, trying to send her a reassuring smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. Rosie’s heart ached. She felt like she was drowning in an ocean of despair, her own concern threatening to choke her. All of his smiles since coming back have been so forced.
Rosie frowned, “Alastor, have you looked at yourself lately? You look like shit.”
Alastor blinked before he laughed, “Oh, you wound me, Rosie.”
“I’m being serious, Al. You look exhausted. I know you said you were working on it—whatever it is—but it’s been months and you look worse. What’s going on?”
He almost seemed to shrink in on himself, grip tightening on the arms of his chair as his gaze fell to the floor, “Can we not talk about this?”
“Why? Is someone watching you?”
Alastor almost jumped, eyes shooting up to meet hers. His smile looked strained as he forced out a bark of a laugh, “What makes you say that?”
“I saw you looking every which way the entire time when you visited with the princess,” Rosie pointed out, “Is it Vox? I thought you didn’t show up—”
Alastor scoffed and waved a hand, cutting her off, “Oh please, I can handle Vox.”
“So this is someone you can’t handle then?”
He looked away again, smile thinning. His expression was pinched, ears flat against his head. Rosie’s chest felt tight with worry. There weren’t many demons stronger than the Radio Demon himself, and there shouldn’t be any reason for the few that were to get involved in overlord affairs. Perhaps Alastor had bitten off more than he could chew?
“Al—”
“Why are you here?” Alastor asked. He looked frustrated, but there was a growing sense of unease rising in his eyes.
“Because I’m trying to understand what happened to you,” Rosie explained, “You were gone for seven years and it’s obvious to me that something bad happened. You’re clearly not doing well and I want to help. So please. Please tell me what’s going on. Let me help you.”
“No.”
That stopped her short. Rosie stared at him for a moment before she found her voice again, “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean no,” he said, hunching in on himself, obscuring his face from view. “I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want your help.”
Anxiety threatened to crush her. Her heart ached. Rosie wanted to wrap him tight in a hug, but she wasn’t sure how well he would receive her touch right now. Instead, she was watching him close in on himself and she had never felt more useless. She was an overlord. She had a whole town of cannibals under her thumb. She could send sinners scrambling with a bloody grin, and yet she couldn’t help her dearest friend.
“Can I know why you don’t want me to help?” she asked, keeping her voice soft and level. As much as his rejection hurt, and as much as it hurt seeing him like this, she couldn’t go falling apart over it. Not right now at least.
A garbled string of static was all she got in reply. Rosie’s frowned deepened.
“Do you not trust me?”
It was an accusatory question, she knew. Sometimes it was better to be blunt and attack the root of the issue head on, even if she wouldn’t like the answer. After so many decades with him, she thought she had earned his trust. Maybe those seven years away had somehow damaged it. They weren’t back to square one by any means, but maybe they were several steps back from where they used to be.
Alastor finally raised his head to look at her in offended horror, “What? No, Rosie, of course I trust you.” A laugh escaped him, short and harsh as he ran a hand through his hair, “Rosie, darling, the amount of trust I have in you is fatal.”
“Then why?”
“Because I can’t,” he said, shoulders dropping as his gaze fell to the floor, “I just—I can’t. And I don’t want you getting involved. It’s—I’m working on it, but I have to be careful.”
He looked so defeated, and the fear in his eyes was almost tangible. Rosie hated it. She got up from her seat and moved to the side of his chair before bringing him into a hug. Her head dropped behind his as she wrapped her arms tight around his shoulders, burying her face at the nape of his neck. Alastor leaned against her, a shaky exhale leaving him.
“I’m sorry for not visiting more,” he said. There was an unmistakable waver in his voice despite the increase in static to try and cover it up. He gripped her forearm with trembling hands, claws digging in as he continued, “I wanted to. I want things to go back to normal. But I’ve been gone for so long and I’ve never felt more behind. I’m playing the worst game of catch up and I can’t even seem to find my footing.”
Rosie squeezed him tighter, as if she could somehow glue all his cracked and broken pieces back together by sheer force alone. He was hurting. He was hurting and Rosie couldn’t stand it. She wanted to help him. She wanted to see his smile reach his eyes. She wanted to make whoever brought her friend to this horrid state suffer. Tear out their entrails. Rip them limb from limb. Take their soul and break it between her teeth. Make them scream until her rage was sated.
“Is there anything I can do?” she asked. Anything at all, no matter small. Anything to not feel so useless.
Alastor shook his head, “I don’t know.”
The filter had dropped and his voice was so quiet that it made him sound so far away. It broke her heart. Tears threatened to spill down her face. Even here, in her arms, Alastor was still trapped in whatever godawful place he’d be held in for years.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” she said.
“Don’t be, darling. There was nothing you could’ve done to stop it.”
Rosie couldn’t stop her tears from falling.
Eventually, she released him even though she didn’t want to. Alastor eased his claws out from her arm with an apology, but Rosie waved him off. The punctures may have been a little deep, but they were small and easy to heal within a minute.
They waited in silence for a moment, letting everything they had said hang over them and sink in. Rosie wiped at her face as Alastor stared into the fire. She didn’t feel any better, and she still had too many unanswered questions. But at least she had the assurance of Alastor’s trust. She would hold that close to heart for the rest of her time in Hell.
“Well,” she started, her voice strong and steady despite feeling the exact opposite, “I suppose I better go. Double check on my cannibals and all that. Make sure no one gets any ideas to steal my turf.”
Alastor hummed, “I suppose so.”
He stood from his seat and hooked his arm with hers. They walked together out of his room and down to the lobby, chatting about easy simple things like the silly antics of the hotel residents. Rosie couldn’t help but note the touch of fondness in Alastor’s tone as he spoke about them. It was cute. He’d hate it if she teased him about it, so she held her tongue. For now.
When they reached the front doors, Rosie brought him into a hug. Alastor sighed, a weary sound, as he hugged her back.
“Be careful in that fight,” she murmured, “Don’t you dare die.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, my dear,” Alastor said as he pulled away. Then he chuckled, “I’d love to feast on the first man with you in celebration.”
Rosie grinned, "That would be lovely."