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He was finally back.
Well, he had to work at the Hazbin Hotel, but the details didn't matter. At least it was mildly interesting, when he said it was going to be fun to see sinners trying to redeem themselves he meant every word of that.
And of course, he was finally able to mess around with Vox once more until he made him glitch and he was actually looking forward to that, he'd maybe stop by the tailor that was right in front a TV shop to fix the coat he had managed to rip…
Oh, that would be hilarious.
Of course those thoughts made him think about all the people he hadn't seen in seven years, there was Husk and Niffty who he had already called to the hotel to help with the work, it was all part of the plan but, maybe he could give another, less obvious job to someone else in his soul speed dial, maybe another one of his slaves would be funny to have around.
"Ah, that's right..." he thought "I should probably check if the little journalist is still well put on his cage"
The "little journalist" was a man called Celery, maybe the first minor overlord he’d put on a leash. A weak little thing, not even deserving of a fight. Maybe that's why he had spared him.
Maybe, but it was also because he knew "truth" was a good asset everywhere, even in hell, and if the guy was searching for it like he was hungry for a big banquet with truth steak then he would use that to his advantage, why not?
The problem was, that deal was based on protection, he took Celery's soul on the basis that he would protect him if anyone came close to him, after all, it was a very low price for a soul so of course he accepted. But he had been gone for seven years, and in that time, he never made himself present, so the squirrel could have broken the deal anytime.
Still, the deer knew him very well, he had a feeling things were just fine.
He locked his new room's door, so as to not be bothered, and sat on the couch across his new radio equipment, his staff resting on the armrest.
He didn't reward loyalty... at least not in a way people would notice, but he could at least pull Celery's chain with his own two hands.
A green portal opened in the middle of the room as he did so, actually amused as to how the other end of the green metal string that connected them offered no resistance.
And in a few seconds, a shuffle of papers brought the journalist to his room. Half covered in ink, an old Thomas radio hanging from his belt like one of those ungodly charms he'd seen in new arrivals to hell who carried bags full of the ugliest plush chimeras and hands full of the same papers flying around.
—What in the w-? -.
Celery pronounced right before freezing in place.
—I could ask the same thing, old friend, you look like you survived three wars only drinking ichor… and we both know that’s impossible -.
Alastor tried to joke around, clearly hiding a bit of disgust behind the big smile he always wore.
He stood up suddenly.
—Now, I don't usually do favors, but if you're going to be working I can't have you looking this disheveled, give me a moment -.
He cleared his throat and looked away, before flickering his hand to instantly clean Celery with a bit of magic.
—There, much better, ain't that right? -.
The deer wanted to make sure he had gotten everything so he started circling the clearly shorter man, and saw his shoulders finally drop at the realization.
Oh, this was fun.
—Is it really you, Alastor? -.
His voice sounded like something he couldn't place between mortally wounded and completely healed.
—Whatever do you mean, boy? Of course it is, and I have a shiny new project for you. So skip the tears, would you? You know I hate sentimentality -.
On the contrary, Alastor's voice was light, playful, just like the last time they had both spoken, not knowing it would be their last time in seven years.
And Celery decided to actually surprise him this time, because he laughed.
And it was not his usual, tiny, unassuming laugh, but one of those that started in your stomach and made your whole body shake intensely.
He was laughing.
—Oh goodness... you had me worried for a second there, mister... -.
He could barely talk, get some air.
He was.... that happy.
And Alastor had no idea if he liked that more or less than the alternative.
—Didn't I send you a note? It was nothing more than a little vacation, dear -.
—That's true -.
Celery seemed to get a grip soon enough.
—I was worried it would break, you know? But just the threat of you was enough most times -.
—How poetic... and dreadfully adorable, should I offer you a medal for being the most pathetic sinner in hell? I mean, if I knew you were going to drag yourself all over the floor for me I wouldn't have called Niffty -.
The taunt didn't seem to bother Celery at all, in fact, he looked relieved, like something had confirmed to him that he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating.
—I'll have to refuse, I don't deserve the honor. Niffty, you say? -.
He changed the topic, and Alastor noted he had gotten better at conversation, somehow.
—Is Husk around too? No, the better question is, where are we? -.
The deer finally decided to explain their situation.
—Where are we? Why, we're at the recently opened Hazbin Hotel! Isn't it a nice place? I had the idea for the name actually, but, I digress -.
The radio demon took back his staff from where it was laying, and showed Celery a small projection of Charlie Morningstar on News666 trying to promote the hotel.
—Our current task involves the princess of hell herself, and her silly dream of getting sinners out of hell through redemption so heaven can finally stop coming for our heads, I'm sure you must know about that isn't that.... right? -.
With his free hand, he took one of the papers from the small pile the man in front of him was holding, letting his staff forget about the picture.
—Here it is! You were about to warn about the possibility of it not working and you're not wrong, ah, you never disappoint, do you?... In any case! I've been appointed as the host, and of course I've decided to bring some friends to help -.
Celery seemed to understand quicker than anyone why he was doing this.
—Ah, I see! Can't blame you at all for wanting to have fun again, you seem excited for that. What can I do for you then? -.
So polite... and that soft smile he gave at the prospect of being useful once more?
The radio demon almost wanted to kick him down a flight of stairs and give him a pat in the head at the same time.
The squirrel was a double-sided sword in that way.
—As for right now, we need permission to serve drinks, even if we already do serve them the princess' girlfriend insisted we apply for a patent anyway like this is not hell, so, I'm trusting you with the errand for now -.
He made all the papers disappear by flicking the one he had in hand, replacing them with a pen and clipboard, and smiled at the squirrel's worry.
—They are safe. I'm a man of my word, am I not? You'll get them back as soon as you finish your little quest -.
He knew Celery didn't need more incentive, but still...
—If you do well I'll see about getting you a room, you'd want to "play" with Niffty and Husk again, I assume -.
—Well, that's tru-! -.
—Right! Off you go now! Bye! -.
The red deer opened the lock of the door only to open it and close it right after his magic had pushed the squirrel outside.
He finally sighed, it was exhausting but also....
It was always good to have more toys on the playground, it gives you more options.
And he'd need that soon enough, it was good to always be ready.