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Alastor isn’t really interested in trivial things like romance. He never was— even in life, he tended to only keep platonic relationships.
Most of that mindset changed when he met Rosie.
They aren’t in an official, proper relationship, no— that woman is far too cannibalistic, she would probably eat him aive.
But they have done some couple-esque activities before.
Rosie has taken him on so-called dates before— they seemed like normal things friends would do. They had gone out to grab dinner several times, had gone out for drinks, or taken pleasurable walks in the park or through cannibal town.
Rosie’s recent infatuation that she wanted Alastor to try out was ‘ice cream’. A store had recently opened in cannibal town that sold meat flavoured ice cream, and it came in several different tastes. Men, women, specific sorts of demons— you name it, they have it.
And so she had convinced Alastor to take some time away from the Hazbin Hotel to spend the day with her. Angel had wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at him once he announced he was going out with Rosie, with Charlie saying goodbye cheerfully instead of anything else.
That is how Alastor ended up here. Seated with Rosie on a park bench, hell’s warm breeze aimlessly flowing past them.
Alastor crosses his legs, one hand holding his ice cream, the other making sure his staff stays upright. It’s still fragile due to it breaking in the final battle against Adam. Rosie had ordered for the both of them— she got a lust demon for herself, saying that they tasted quite sweet, and a wrath demon for Alastor, which does happen to be his preference in food.
“Tasty, riiight, pumpkin?” Rosie beams at Alastor, licking her own ice cream. She’s grinning widely, sharp teeth on full display, her hat set down beside her so that she wouldn’t get the pompous feathers on them dirty.
“...it is better than I expected,” Alastor responds. He, honestly, wasn’t a big fan of sweets or pastries. Yet this ice cream was a perfect blend of flavours— it wasn’t too sweet, but it was also not too bitter. It was just right.
Rosie chuckles, knowing Alastor’s reluctance to admit he liked things that she would pick out. Even when she tailored clothes to him, he would be almost hesitant to accept and admit his approval of them.
“Oh, dear, dear! You can just say that you liked it,” she teases, and Alastor resists the urge to roll his eyes in response.
“Yes, yes. I like it. Satisfied?” Rosie nods, clearly happy with Alastor’s words.
Alastor lets his eyes drift over to her.
She had dressed up for the occasion— she’s wearing a dark red corset with silver patterns resembling ribs on them and a dark dress underneath that reaches her heels, shrouding her lower body in a flowy darkness that almost resembled tentacles, or something eldritch. She had even styled her hair differently— with how short it is, she doesn’t have many options, but she had opted to use extensions and then braided them, giving her a nice little braided pattern.
Alastor could appreciate some good fashion, and Rosie’s was definitely to his tastes.
Alastor continues on eating his ice cream with Rosie, both of them sitting in content silence.
“Darling,” Rosie’s words drag Alastor’s attention back to her, stealing it from where he had been focused on a nearby bird, “can I try yours?”
Alastor holds it out without much thought.
Rosie takes a few licks of it, swiping her tongue along her lips to make sure she doesn’t ruin her perfect lipstick.
Alastor takes it back when Rosie leans back into her own space, nodding.
“Delicious! That man really knows his craft.”
They fall into silence again.
Alastor manages to eat half of his ice cream before Rosie speaks again.
“...We just kissed, ya know.”
Alastor glances over, raising one eyebrow, mildly confused. His smile grows slightly smaller while Rosie’s only widens. She rests her head on her hands, having finished her ice cream by now.
“Indirectly, of course. Since I tasted your ice cream?”
“...ah.”
Alastor feels his heart skip a beat, and he looks back at his ice cream.
“Are you blushin’, Pumpkin?” Rosie giggles, her southern accent slipping out slightly.
Alastor clears his throat, the everpresent static around him slowly increasing.
“I do not blush, my dear Rosie.”
“Oh, but you do!” Rosie’s head tilts. “And it’s totally adorable, darlin’.”
“...hmph.”
Rosie giggles at Alastor’s stubborn, almost pouty huff.
“Adorable.”