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Summary
How many drinks had he had before the dreadful experience? He counts on his fingers, one, two, three…
Must've been more than three, for sure— Alastor can hold his alcohol pretty well— he must be forgetting some drinks in between. That must be it.
Husk would most likely know how many, although he doesn't want to go downstairs again. His room is comfortable, so is the couch he uses as a bed when he's feeling like laying down. Besides, the joke had started there.
The Devil walks into the hotel's bar…
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Alastor is at a crossroads: he has the King of Hell to himself, power at the palm of his hand, but the cost is higher than what he had been willing to pay. He finds himself dealing with just how dangerous the Devil really is, and how much one might lose control if one does not pay attention.
Series
- Part 4 of Evenings Spent