Nowhere but in Hell would Alastor meet people who could revel in the joy of a massacre like he did. Vincent - Vox - wasn't the only bloodthirsty maniac, but to have that and a similar taste for theatrics? A love for dance, and jazz, and entertainment? Someone who talked his ears off - sometimes a little excessively, but sometimes it was a welcome reprieve.
Nobody liked radio silence.
The spark of electricity, the light dancing and darkening his own shadows... Alastor didn't look towards his own shadow, though he could see from the corner of his eye that it was also still giggling with delight, cuddling up against Vincent's shadow as if he could feel it. Him, too, pal... this demon hadn't asked for anything but his company ever since they met. Insisted on showing his progress, showing he didn't need Alastor to do things for him, then would drag him along for drinks.
Alastor was quite sure of it, now... if his afterlife always had nights like this one, then hell really was his personal heaven.
1/3
Nobody liked radio silence.
The spark of electricity, the light dancing and darkening his own shadows... Alastor didn't look towards his own shadow, though he could see from the corner of his eye that it was also still giggling with delight, cuddling up against Vincent's shadow as if he could feel it. Him, too, pal... this demon hadn't asked for anything but his company ever since they met. Insisted on showing his progress, showing he didn't need Alastor to do things for him, then would drag him along for drinks.
Alastor was quite sure of it, now... if his afterlife always had nights like this one, then hell really was his personal heaven.