"Why, in accordance to your aforementioned metrics, wholly separate from the project, of course. Do you feel that she'd usurp and double-cross you, will she use her wiles?"
Then, with a half-hearted wave of a hand. "...And it need not be said, but you won't be face-first on the curb for 'answering incorrectly'. I'm genuinely curious."
"So long as Charlie wants me around, you won't be rid of me so easily," Alastor scoffed. But that was telling in and of itself - so long as he's wanted.
"I don't think Charlie would take advantage, no. A rare case indeed, wholly unique in a sea of those that have every one of their limbs tangled in the ladder they're trying to climb to the top of. She doesn't even realize she sits comfortably on top. But she isn't meek, either."
The power dynamics spoke for themselves, in a weird way. A circumstantial storm that made someone as utterly genuine as the Princess turned out to be.
"But I am under no illusions that she would prioritize me over anyone else. I don't need her to - she needs the guidance of someone she doesn't have to care for."
That was... an interesting answer, and far more than he expected. Did Charlie know she sat at the top? Of course she did. But she didn't like the aspect of letting it carry her through achieving her aspirations, her dreams.
And if anyone deserved to have their dreams come true, it was Charlotte. He would never have what happened to him happen to her. ...Or he would die trying.
But the funniest damned thing happened, and he could hear himself now: My daughter wants to see me! Take THAT, depression!
But he could also, just the same and just as clearly, hear another voice. To his dismay, his shame, it always sounded like Lilith: She's obligated to care about you, Lucifer.
No. She invited him over. That. That mattered. Matters.
He smiled through it. "She's got a big heart, for sure. Sees the good in everybody, and always finds a reason to care about someone other than herself. None of us deserve her."
He leaned a cheek upon a hand. "...Makes us poor, unwanted schlubs wonder how we got so lucky despite where we are, huh?"
"I wouldn't count on luck, even if I were heaven-born like you are, Lucifer," Alastor mused with a wry grin and tone. "Yes, the opportunity did show itself in a serendipitous moment for me, when I happened to see the commercial. But it was not luck that brought me here after that moment - I seized the opportunity and arrived posthaste, knowing full well that someone else could take that opportunity away from me."
His smirk broadened, pointedly.
After all, didn't he interject in Lucifer's boastful song just to remind the man of that fact? After all, Lucifer had come in assuming he was just 'lucky' to be Charlie's father, just 'lucky' to swoop in and claim her trust and affections. No, no. He had to work for it, and once reminded, Lucifer did.
Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud. They say the family you choose is better.
"Never take an advantage for granted or you'll waste that opportunity entirely."
Lucky? After all that sent him down here? Hardly. If anything, he only "squandered" his fortune by having ideas.
But his eyebrows shot up. The lightbulb moment hit.
"...You think you'd get kicked out of this entire project because I'm here..."
He'd forgotten about his drink entirely.
"...Because you think you'd no longer be 'wanted'."
Really, he should be cocky and make a note on comparisons of power, how effortlessly the Hotel was rebuilt and just how the tides turned in the battle once he showed up. Instead... He stared in wonder.
Boy. Now he was really glad they didn't choose Husk's bar.
Astute! Alastor withheld a squirm at being perceived - he'd opened up, after all, it would be even more pathetic to offer information and then panic about it.
"A part indeed. But Charlie doesn't need a new hotelier. I wager you would struggle and collapse under the responsibilities and the doldrum," Alastor verbally jabbed, setting his drink aside. "A man like yourself needs a challenge - without one, you'll squander listlessly in relentless self doubt, your own worst enemy - and you'll drown out Charlie like you had until you opened your ears, finally."
As for himself... he'd gotten a favor in his back pocket from Charlie. If he had to use it to be kept around, that would be a shame, but it would still serve itself if things ended up that way. ...He'd have to make sure to find another tidbit, another ace up his sleeve, just in case.
There it was. As harsh as it was, he was telling the truth. Without everything that had happened, how much would he struggle and panic himself into being useful to Charlie and in turn gain back some level of self-worth? The Hotel would probably have faltered further if Lucifer didn't just open his damned eyes and ears and LISTENED to her for once.
He merely chuckled. "Mm... no, Charlie doesn't need a new hotelier. She already has a damned good one. He's rough around the edges, bears exotic tastes, but he sought and seized an opportunity when he found it, and was the first hand offered to help the Princess back on to her feet."
He leaned on his elbows.
"As I've said with utmost gusto, I support her dreams, no matter what lay around the bend. Just as well, as the ruler of this realm, it would be of interest to me to see this project succeed, see if it all works, and encourage other Sinners to do the same. I've heard more than my fair share of the denizens of Hell refer to me as the Useless King, so... I'm quite finished being useless."
He smirked. "...Now that I think about it, you might be right- perhaps this means I do work under you to a degree, Mr. Hotelier. I hope this doesn't put a damper on our contest."
"Don't you worry your plucky-ducky head one bit! I have never once respected nor considered your self-ascribed royal title. I don't serve Kings."
Alastor emphasized the words 'plucky-ducky' by leaning forward and ruffling that blond head - just as condescendingly as he'd done for Husk. This conversation was just as nerve-wracking as that one had been, honestly.
That ruffle catches him off-guard and leaves him... disheveled and a bit pink in the face.
What just happened. What was this feeling in his gut?
"Good. ...Good."
The fallen angel gave a low chuckle, shook his head as he recovered, and smoothed his hair back again. But the sweep passed over his eyes, gold swapped for red. As he picked up his glass, the liquor sprung to life in flame.
"Because you had me concerned. Nobody sets a fire in me quite like you do... why, I just might consider you a friend." That playful tone was back, but it was utmost smoke before he tipped back his drink and drained his glass.
"Friends! My oh my, mister Serpent, that's moving awful fast, don't you think?" Alastor teased, affecting a belle accent and resting his hand against his forehead as though he were fainting. "And after inviting me into your office for private drinks? Why, I'm not that kind of demon, sir~"
He set his empty glass aside. "Oh~? And yet you're here anyway. But let's not point fingers... terribly impolite."
The King rose and circled the desk, hopped to perch a seat upon the opposing edge. One leg crossed the other, and his spiny tail moved in the serpentine fashion of a cat most intrigued by what he was seeing.
"Immortality has its perks, however. Why, any old pace can be set. What's fast? What's slow? ...But maybe I see an opportunity, like you've said, and I saw fit to seize it."
He reached out, a force of habit, but hesitated. He wasn't sure what he intended to do just then. He let his hand fall back to the edge of the desk.
"...Can this Serpent top you off, pal...? Your glass is running a little low, and I won't have anyone left wanting."
See, this is the devil that people think of and fear - this is much closer to what should be hated, and aspired to. A creature of fearful temptation, not a sad little fallen angel.
So amusing - was this the sort of carnal temptation that others succumbed to? It felt like an inside joke he wasn't privy to. But that made it all the funnier to play along.
He leaned on the arm of the chair, picking the glass up and offering it to the outstretched hand, letting his fingers linger. "If you'd be so generous, oh fork-tongued one."
The glass was supported by a palm, but fingers touched as he saw to topping things off in the other. So accustomed to much older vintages, he enjoyed the scents coming from the rye, spicier in its youth compared to the average bourbon.
"There we are. The scandal continues...! Oh, what might the neighbors think, if they knew you were all alone with the devil in his quarters, much less having a drink?"
"Properly scandalous! Why, they'll be tittering about this in the tabloids for weeks!" Alastor chuckled. His mood was a bit lighter, and jokes flowed more easily. Though Mimzy and possibly losing his position in the hotel hadn't been at the forefront of what was bothering him, it was still nice to dig up that strange kindness on those fronts from the king.
What a soft man, just like his daughter.
"They'll be wondering if it's yet another doomed friendship, will the fallout get the Radio Demon killed this time?? Will the King of Hell have to fight the Television Demon as the Radio Demon's true nemesis?? Stay tuned for our next thrilling installment!"
"I surely hope you continue a radio broadcast now that things have settled down. If anything, it would vex that Vox. You seem to have had it quite heated for a while. I couldn't even begin to tell you the number of times he's tried to push a cable package on me, thinking I have any such interest in having my brain rot with all the reality television, porn and memetic commercials I could ever wish to choke on."
His tail whipped behind him with a sharp crack. He moved to refill his own glass.
"You know what? I enjoy this. It has been a good few hundred years since I've had a time quite like the last several weeks. I wouldn't mind stirring scandal more often."
"Finally, someone who understands the absolute dearth of media on that wretched picturetube," Alastor practically purred, taking a sip of his newly refilled whiskey before running his finger in circles over the rim of the glass. "If we must have royalty around, why, I say that this is much more the sort of thing I want to hear from a king. Good sense, good taste, and a taste for the fire of afterlife."
"Heavens, no, I have a LOT more drinking to do before I'm anywhere near inebriated! Why, we haven't even gotten the swing music going or the space to start dancing, the night's far too young for me to pass out," Alastor guffawed, poking Lucifer right in the center of that red circle on his cheek.
"I'm far too sober to have a friend pawing at me."
Well well! If his prospective dance partner had the energy for it, then it was worth having at it! And if he was half as good at dancing as he was dueling, then this would be a good time.
Alastor threw back the whole glass of whiskey before standing up, sliding away the chair with a smooth kick and shifting the radio to a more energetic sound.
His expression brightened as the demon took down that whiskey. That's the ticket.
But the question had him hop off the desk, and with the sweep of a hand, opened up the floor by shooing the fixture to the side.
"Been a few decades since I've done it, but-" With a flourish, he removed and whipped his vest aside. With a few solo steps, light on his feet, he was feeling the tempo and the melody.
So warm up to the full energy, got it - Alastor laughed, whisking the tophat off of Lucifer's head and tossing it across the room, the brim neatly catching a coat hook and swinging onto it without falling. Perfect.
Funny how Charlie was a much easier dance partner given that her height was much closer to his. That just added a funny extra bit of challenge, really, grabbing Lucifer's hand to spin him in wide, energetic swings so they could kick their feet out to the beat.
Tophat off, Lucifer made a show of sweeping his fingers through his hair with a laugh.
Height difference? Yeah. Sorry. Nothing to do about it, though! Lucifer kept up as best as he could, but it seemed Alastor had the right idea. Swing wide, let the taller demon take the lead. That was just fine by him.
Maybe I shouldn't be having such a good time, though...
Exactly, spin instead, the faster you dance the less time you have to hear that nasty voice in your head!
Now that the pace is picked up, Alastor will go right ahead and start incorporating his favorite - picking up his dance partner and nearly tossing them. This was always a HIT with Mimzy and even Rosie, after all!
Hah. The King is even lighter than either of those ladies, he laughs in amusement as he catches Lucifer and returns him to his feet as they keep up the jig.
This was... different. He'd engaged in a wealth of dances in his millennia of life, but even with his smaller stature, he'd never been tossed.
It was thrilling! He used that toss as a launch point for a roll before he headed back into position, short of breath from his own excitement. He was accustomed to ballroom dancing or a tango- Lily's favorite- but nothing that had him flying...!
Lucifer pulled the dance in closer, linking fingers. He flexed a little spatial magic. Why be in an office when instead they could be at an old club? But all others in attendance were just clones of him, all in 20s-era finest. There were even a few dressed as flapper girls, while a very surly, scowling clone of himself was polishing glasses at the bar in the corner with gusto.
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divinetree2024-04-01 08:17 am
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Then, with a half-hearted wave of a hand. "...And it need not be said, but you won't be face-first on the curb for 'answering incorrectly'. I'm genuinely curious."
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"I don't think Charlie would take advantage, no. A rare case indeed, wholly unique in a sea of those that have every one of their limbs tangled in the ladder they're trying to climb to the top of. She doesn't even realize she sits comfortably on top. But she isn't meek, either."
The power dynamics spoke for themselves, in a weird way. A circumstantial storm that made someone as utterly genuine as the Princess turned out to be.
"But I am under no illusions that she would prioritize me over anyone else. I don't need her to - she needs the guidance of someone she doesn't have to care for."
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And if anyone deserved to have their dreams come true, it was Charlotte. He would never have what happened to him happen to her. ...Or he would die trying.
But the funniest damned thing happened, and he could hear himself now: My daughter wants to see me! Take THAT, depression!
But he could also, just the same and just as clearly, hear another voice. To his dismay, his shame, it always sounded like Lilith: She's obligated to care about you, Lucifer.
No. She invited him over. That. That mattered. Matters.
He smiled through it. "She's got a big heart, for sure. Sees the good in everybody, and always finds a reason to care about someone other than herself. None of us deserve her."
He leaned a cheek upon a hand. "...Makes us poor, unwanted schlubs wonder how we got so lucky despite where we are, huh?"
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His smirk broadened, pointedly.
After all, didn't he interject in Lucifer's boastful song just to remind the man of that fact? After all, Lucifer had come in assuming he was just 'lucky' to be Charlie's father, just 'lucky' to swoop in and claim her trust and affections. No, no. He had to work for it, and once reminded, Lucifer did.
Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud.
They say the family you choose is better.
"Never take an advantage for granted or you'll waste that opportunity entirely."
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But his eyebrows shot up. The lightbulb moment hit.
"...You think you'd get kicked out of this entire project because I'm here..."
He'd forgotten about his drink entirely.
"...Because you think you'd no longer be 'wanted'."
Really, he should be cocky and make a note on comparisons of power, how effortlessly the Hotel was rebuilt and just how the tides turned in the battle once he showed up. Instead... He stared in wonder.
Boy. Now he was really glad they didn't choose Husk's bar.
"That's... part of what this is, isn't it?"
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"A part indeed. But Charlie doesn't need a new hotelier. I wager you would struggle and collapse under the responsibilities and the doldrum," Alastor verbally jabbed, setting his drink aside. "A man like yourself needs a challenge - without one, you'll squander listlessly in relentless self doubt, your own worst enemy - and you'll drown out Charlie like you had until you opened your ears, finally."
As for himself... he'd gotten a favor in his back pocket from Charlie. If he had to use it to be kept around, that would be a shame, but it would still serve itself if things ended up that way. ...He'd have to make sure to find another tidbit, another ace up his sleeve, just in case.
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He merely chuckled. "Mm... no, Charlie doesn't need a new hotelier. She already has a damned good one. He's rough around the edges, bears exotic tastes, but he sought and seized an opportunity when he found it, and was the first hand offered to help the Princess back on to her feet."
He leaned on his elbows.
"As I've said with utmost gusto, I support her dreams, no matter what lay around the bend. Just as well, as the ruler of this realm, it would be of interest to me to see this project succeed, see if it all works, and encourage other Sinners to do the same. I've heard more than my fair share of the denizens of Hell refer to me as the Useless King, so... I'm quite finished being useless."
He smirked. "...Now that I think about it, you might be right- perhaps this means I do work under you to a degree, Mr. Hotelier. I hope this doesn't put a damper on our contest."
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Alastor emphasized the words 'plucky-ducky' by leaning forward and ruffling that blond head - just as condescendingly as he'd done for Husk. This conversation was just as nerve-wracking as that one had been, honestly.
"Our contest burns ever onward."
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What just happened. What was this feeling in his gut?
"Good. ...Good."
The fallen angel gave a low chuckle, shook his head as he recovered, and smoothed his hair back again. But the sweep passed over his eyes, gold swapped for red. As he picked up his glass, the liquor sprung to life in flame.
"Because you had me concerned. Nobody sets a fire in me quite like you do... why, I just might consider you a friend." That playful tone was back, but it was utmost smoke before he tipped back his drink and drained his glass.
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The King rose and circled the desk, hopped to perch a seat upon the opposing edge. One leg crossed the other, and his spiny tail moved in the serpentine fashion of a cat most intrigued by what he was seeing.
"Immortality has its perks, however. Why, any old pace can be set. What's fast? What's slow? ...But maybe I see an opportunity, like you've said, and I saw fit to seize it."
He reached out, a force of habit, but hesitated. He wasn't sure what he intended to do just then. He let his hand fall back to the edge of the desk.
"...Can this Serpent top you off, pal...? Your glass is running a little low, and I won't have anyone left wanting."
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So amusing - was this the sort of carnal temptation that others succumbed to? It felt like an inside joke he wasn't privy to. But that made it all the funnier to play along.
He leaned on the arm of the chair, picking the glass up and offering it to the outstretched hand, letting his fingers linger. "If you'd be so generous, oh fork-tongued one."
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"There we are. The scandal continues...! Oh, what might the neighbors think, if they knew you were all alone with the devil in his quarters, much less having a drink?"
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What a soft man, just like his daughter.
"They'll be wondering if it's yet another doomed friendship, will the fallout get the Radio Demon killed this time?? Will the King of Hell have to fight the Television Demon as the Radio Demon's true nemesis?? Stay tuned for our next thrilling installment!"
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His tail whipped behind him with a sharp crack. He moved to refill his own glass.
"You know what? I enjoy this. It has been a good few hundred years since I've had a time quite like the last several weeks. I wouldn't mind stirring scandal more often."
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"Or is the liquor already getting to you? Perhaps I picked too strong of a selection from my collection. Will I wind up carrying you back...?"
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"I'm far too sober to have a friend pawing at me."
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"Then I suppose we should up the ante. I could use a dance partner!"
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Alastor threw back the whole glass of whiskey before standing up, sliding away the chair with a smooth kick and shifting the radio to a more energetic sound.
"Surely you'd learned how to lindy hop?"
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But the question had him hop off the desk, and with the sweep of a hand, opened up the floor by shooing the fixture to the side.
"Been a few decades since I've done it, but-" With a flourish, he removed and whipped his vest aside. With a few solo steps, light on his feet, he was feeling the tempo and the melody.
"-I think I can unrust!"
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Funny how Charlie was a much easier dance partner given that her height was much closer to his. That just added a funny extra bit of challenge, really, grabbing Lucifer's hand to spin him in wide, energetic swings so they could kick their feet out to the beat.
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Height difference? Yeah. Sorry. Nothing to do about it, though! Lucifer kept up as best as he could, but it seemed Alastor had the right idea. Swing wide, let the taller demon take the lead. That was just fine by him.
Maybe I shouldn't be having such a good time, though...
Eh. He pushed that aside. Spin him again!
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Now that the pace is picked up, Alastor will go right ahead and start incorporating his favorite - picking up his dance partner and nearly tossing them. This was always a HIT with Mimzy and even Rosie, after all!
Hah. The King is even lighter than either of those ladies, he laughs in amusement as he catches Lucifer and returns him to his feet as they keep up the jig.
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It was thrilling! He used that toss as a launch point for a roll before he headed back into position, short of breath from his own excitement. He was accustomed to ballroom dancing or a tango- Lily's favorite- but nothing that had him flying...!
Lucifer pulled the dance in closer, linking fingers. He flexed a little spatial magic. Why be in an office when instead they could be at an old club? But all others in attendance were just clones of him, all in 20s-era finest. There were even a few dressed as flapper girls, while a very surly, scowling clone of himself was polishing glasses at the bar in the corner with gusto.
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