Chapter Text
“Hm, looks like I have to pay a visit to my tailor.”
Alastor commented lightly, the tight smile on his face betraying his attempt at jovial nonchalance. If anyone looked a little closer, they’d see how stiff his shoulders were and how he wore his permanent smile a little sharper.
The overlord just finished destroying…oh, what was his name? Who cares. Alastor just finished destroying the snake demon with the eggs, coming out unscathed laughably easily, well, not entirely unscathed. That dumb snake ripped off part of his suit when he was pretending to lie defeated below him. Alastor guessed it was some last-ditch effort to triumph over him, not that it mattered. Alastor made sure to beat the snake into the next century for that little move.
Now, he was quietly humming soft jazz as he made his way to Cannibal Town. A lovely little town he discovered when he descended all those centuries ago. The town had become a second home to the demon, finding kinship in his fellow cannibals, as well as housing someone quite special to him. Entering the town, Alastor was met with a few excited hellos from sinners around him, so happy to see him, unlike sinners from different districts, who reacted in a much harsher way. Always running away the second they heard the sounds of lovely jazz and static in the air, so rude!
Giving his own greeting to the cannibals sipping up intestines, Alastor made his way to a little shop near the center of town. His feet guided him with decades of experience, the route imprinted into his mind and body. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been around these parts for around seven years; he could never forget what lay beyond the wooden doors of the shop.
In front of him stood a small two-story shop. A pink-and-red awning with the words “Dotties Tailoring” in cursive adorned it, and the same name was painted on the shop’s covered windows. Alastor’s eyes twitched as he read the sign posted on the door. Closed.
Oh, this wouldn’t do.
Scoffing, Alastor unlocked the door with his magic and strolled in. Opening hours were only an hour away, and if he knew the owner, she wouldn’t mind. Stepping into the shop, the smooth sound of jazz from hidden speakers and the smell of clothes, mixed with cinnamon and vanilla, greeted him. Almost instantly, Alastor stiffened. If it were seven years ago, he would have relaxed immediately in the shops’ comfortable environment.
Comfortable was a word rarely used in Pride; the mere concept of having or being comfortable down in hell was a rare delicacy that even the most powerful of overlords didn’t have, except Alastor, of course. Or, he did until seven years ago.
A mix of old and new photographs of the owner posing with happy customers in beautiful suits and dresses, a few of which featured Alastor himself, littered the wall behind the front desk. Rugs of different colors and designs, a few of them placed strategically to hide dents and marks on the worn wood flooring, lay around him. Scattered around the shop, there were small nooks with plush sofas and reading tables for shoppers to relax on. Little quirks filled the shop, stirring a bitter pot of nostalgia in Alastor’s stomach.
He assumed that stepping into the building after so long would feel as lovely as it used to, but he was sorely mistaken. Perhaps it was being subject to the familiarity that made him confront his almost decade-long disappearance. What could have happened during his absence? What could have changed? Was she was diffe-
“Sorry, dear, we’re not open yet!”
A soft voice, too soft for hell, interrupts his thoughts. Instantly, Alastor goes rigid. The jazz emitting from him came to a screeching halt. His smile frozen wide, shoulders square and tense, clawed hands hidden behind his back, gripping his staff for dear life. His eyes screamed with panic as hurried footsteps approached the front of the shop. The underworld around him slowed as a small figure emerged from the partial wall behind the front desk.
Bounding into his vision, Alastor went face-to-face with a bunny demon. Her fur was snow white save for the crimson that covered her hands, and the bottoms of her paws, and thick, wavy black curls cascaded down her head. The young demon wore a simple, faded pink blouse, a maroon knee-length skirt, and a matching maroon hat. Her red eyes rose to take him in; kindness and humor swirled in her irises, two emotions you seldom saw in a sinner. Almost instantly, the gentle smile that complemented her face fell, and a look of too many emotions Alastor couldn’t hope to decipher adorned her face instead.
“Alastor?”
Her voice came out as a whisper, as though she was afraid that if she spoke his name too loudly, it would make him disappear. Again.
Shaking out of his own hesitance, Alastor put on his usual mask and bowed his head.
“Long time no see, my dear! It’s been far too long, don’t you think? I’ve been meaning to stop by your fine establishment, but I’ve just been swamped by work! Who could have imagined the life of a returning overlord could be s-” Before Alastor could continue his tangent, white, fluffy arms came to wrap around him.
For a second, he stiffened, only relaxing when he remembered who was embracing him. However, he should have stayed alert to stop the hard kick to his shin.
“Ow! What the-” He stumbled, the static in his voice faltering, clutching his knee. To see the Radio Demon just let himself get tossed around by a random sinner without consequence would be quite the story around hell. But she wasn’t a random demon, and Alastor wasn’t the Radio Demon when he was in her shop.
“How dare you!” The bunny demon pushed him away, her face red and angry. Shoving a finger in his direction, she continued, “You have some nerve coming back here after disappearing on me like that! Seven years! It’s been seven years, Allie, seven! And you just waltz back in here like nothing ever happened, saying some long time so see??” She yelled out, chest heaving from using so much air.
Her red eyes stared down the much taller demon, watching as he collected himself.
Tucking away his slight irritation, Alastor shifted into something more genuine. He tried his best to make it seem like no time had passed, but it seems it won’t do. Of course it won’t, not when it’s her.
“Dottie, my dear, I am truly sorry for leaving for so long. I never wished to hurt you.” He began, lowering himself to her level, approaching her face-to-face. “You know better than anyone my deal…What it entails. Leaving for so long was another task I had to do; if I had a choice, I wouldn’t have done it.” His voice grows more gentle as each word leaves his mouth, his hand rising to brush Dottie’s face.
In hell, vulnerability is the greatest weakness a demon can have. To show someone anything other than your strength and cruelty is akin to walking a tightrope. You never know how another sinner will react to the show, if they’ll use it against you or embrace you. But Alastor never had to worry about details like that with his dear Dottie. No, in her little tailoring shop deep within Cannibal Town, alone with his little girl, he was free to be himself. How could he, even for a second, try to be anything but that?
He has been away for far too long.
Alastor’s gaze softens as he watches Dottie’s face fall. Her mask of anger gave way to sadness and relief. “I was so worried,” Her voice cracked, causing Alastor to coo and brush his hand gently through her hair, detangling her pure black waves. “I kept on thinking the worst. That you died, or got captured, or just…left me.”
Alastor let out a sound of pain, embracing Dottie as she cried into his shoulder. “Oh, my dear, I know I’d never knowingly leave you.” While the demon normally abhorred physical contact, when it came to her, how could he turn Dottie away? He softly rubbed her shoulder, letting her cry.
Soon, her sobs turned into hiccups, and Alastor pulled back slightly. He gently wiped her face, ridding it of the tears he hated seeing on her. “I had no idea you took my absence so tearibly,” Alastor muttered softly, his grin widening. Dottie let out a wobbly chuckle in his arms, “Okay, you can leave now.”
“No!!”
Resting in a little corner in her shop, Dottie chose to close for the day, excited to reconnect with Alastor. The two were sitting on worn living room chairs, sipping their respective drinks and snacking on cookies Dottie had made the night before. Blowing off her chamomile tea in a mug with the pun: “Every bunny chill!”, Dottie rocked her feet excitedly.
“So you have to tell me what happened when you were away! Did you meet any new sinners, make any new deals, see any new stuff!” She asked him, her long, fluffy bunny ears perked and ready to soak up all his fun tales.
Chuckling, Alastor shook his head, his sharp fingers tapping on a mug full of black coffee with the pun: “Love you deerly!” “Unfortunately, my dear, I cannot discuss what I’ve done during my absence, as much as I’d like to.” Dottie wilted when she heard this, “Oh...”
Faltering, Alastor tried to lighten the mood, “Buttt, I could regale you with what I’ve been up to since my return! I have a few weeks of new stories!” Dottie perked up at this, though, not for a good reason.
“... You’ve been back for a few weeks?” Dottie muttered, staring at him unblinking.
Alastor froze, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. “Ahaha…My dear, um.” For the second time in his life, before and after death, he didn’t know what to say.
“You’ve been back for weeks, and you’ve just now decided to visit me?? Why!” Dottie raised her voice, offense written in black Sharpie across her face.
“I…I needed my suit fixed.” He lifted up the small tear in his suit coat sheepishly.
Dottie stared at the tear in his coat, then back at Alastor, then at the tear, then back at the twat.
“Get out.”
“Dottie!”
Circling him, Dottie pinched her brows. Alastor stood on her dressing stand facing a mirror. She took off his coat to find a fabric to match and mend the tear. She was now checking to make sure the rest of his suit was fine.
Under the coat was a simple red dress shirt with a black-lined design. He wore plain brown, almost black suit pants to go with it. Dottie had designed his outfit decades ago, as much as she believed she could do better, Alastor was always pretty determined to keep his look the same.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to design you a newer look? I mean-” Before Dottie could finish her half-assed pitch, Alastor interrupted her. “No need, my dear, this suit you’ve made is perfect.” Pursing her lips, Dottie wasn’t convinced. “Really? I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to give yourself a little upgrade, I’ve gotten a lot better, you know!”
Adamant on his choice, Alastor just shook his head. “No, thank you, dear,” He turned to face her, “And if you keep talking about upgrades, you’re going to start reminding me of a certain someone.” The static in his voice grew louder, trying very little to hide the irritation in his voice.
Dottie faked a gag at the implication, earning a chuckle from Alastor. “Okay, I yield.”
Spinning back to her table, Dottie flattened out the coat. Marking the tear, she hurried to find matching fabric. Watching her disappear around a wall, Alastor sighed. He was away so long, first on Rosie’s request, then for the hotel. This was the first time in nearly a decade he got to relax. It only took an hour in the shop with Dottie for his worries and stress to melt away; she always had a special way of putting him at ease. Even when they were alive, she managed to bring out a side of him he never thought he had.
Hm.
That’s the first time in a while he’s thought of life before dying. He always did get nostalgic around Dottie, Alastor mused.
Life before he died was relatively peaceful, all things considered. Sure, he had his…hobbies outside of being a radio host that spiced up his life, but there was a point before it all ended when things were good. Alastor guessed it was around the time Dottie came into his life.
Yeah.
The day he met Dottie Beaux was when it all became…worth it.