And once again Rosie proves why she has become the only one Alastor trusts in Hell. Instead of offering him some meaningless platitude, or cloying sympathy that would surely have raised his temper further, she was just matter of fact about it. About herself, about him, and what they were.

It allows the tension to drain from him again, though the shadows around the base of his chair are still darker than normal, and the stubs of his antlers are longer and stretched backwards.

"We know what we are and always have."

He stretches slightly to test the stitches, wanting to get out of here before he makes any further disgraceful remarks.

"...thank you."