Sickly Sweet II - Chapter 6 - LavendulaChronicler (2024)

Chapter Text

Charlie, standing in the lounge, smiled brightly at her guests. “Okay.” She said. “I know this hasn’t been a… great week for us. For any of us.” She said her brow growing worried even as she kept her smile up.

Sure, the energy was mostly from Angel and Syrup, but not even Pentious could keep himself in whatever strange reality he dwelt in enough to ignore it. He sat on the other side of the couch from the two, shooting constant nervous glances at them. Angel was on the armrest, chin in his hand and fingers drumming against his knee. Syrup leaned against him, eyes open and staring at nothing.

Charlie’s smile fell for a moment as she stared at them. She rallied. “Buuuut,” She said, “Our trip to Fibonacci’s place-”

“Don’t say his name.” Syrup said evenly.

“Our trip to Le Bon Temps,” Charlie smoothly corrected, “Wasn’t totally wasted. It gave me an idea. One I think you’ll like.” She said, the last sentence delivered in song.

Angel and Syrup groaned. “Charlie, come on.” Syrup said softly.

“Are ya even thinkin’ about what happened to us back there?” Angel asked, leaning forward. “Can’t we get a day off or somethin’?”

“Yes!” Charlie said, her eyes wide.

“I mean, that sh*t might be the worst thing that ever happened to me.” Angel said, running a hand over his hair.

“What did Mister Fibonacci do to you?” Pentious asked.

“Don’t say his name.” Syrup said again.

“And don’t ever ask me that again.” Angel said, leaning across the couch and pressing a finger against Pentious’s chest. Then he furrowed his brow as Pentious tried to lean away while smiling nervously. The spider turned to Charlie. “What’d you just say?”

Charlie smiled like she was excited to see how happy she was about to make her guests. “I had a thought. I mean, I had a couple, but I thought about how you need an opportunity to go out and demonstrate what you’ve learned here.” She spread her arms wide. “I’m giving the three of you a day off!”

The guests looked at each other. Even Syrup perked up.

“No foolin’?” Angel asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Nope!” Charlie said with a smile and a shake of her head. “Do whatever you want with no intervention from me at all. Stay here, go out, do… uh… you know, whatever.” She said, nervous eyes bouncing from face to face trying to decide who was least worrying.

Probably Angel? At least his worst behavior tended to only… inconvenience himself. Syrup and Pentious both could do a lot of damage.

Not that Charlie thought they would.

Or that Angel would.

Of course not. She had total faith in them.

“So when we come back graying out with every step, you won’t give us those big eyes?” Syrup asked, leaning forward, his tail waving.

Charlie gave him a nervous smile. She looked to the clock. “Well, uh, just try to be back before ten?”

“Deal!” Angel said and dashed off.

“Angel!” Charlie called out, reaching after him as Syrup giggled. “Oh boy.” Charlie said softly, already nervous. She rallied with the thought of giving out more good news and turned to the bar. “And Husk.” She said.

Husk sighed, more out of reflex than anything. “Yeah?”

“That goes for you too.”

Husk looked at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“You can have the day off. You’ve earned it.”

“On your left.” Syrup said with a smug smile.

“What?” Charlie asked.

“Really, Charlie.” Alastor said from behind Charlie’s left shoulder.

“Holy sh*t!” Charlie shouted with a full-body flinch.

“There’s no call for that.” Alastor continued casually. His cane whirled up and pointed at Husk across the lobby. “Old Husker doesn’t need a day off.” He said as Husk glared at him. Alastor leaned down and put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, tugging her close like he was sharing a secret. “He’s a tireless worker! Why, this little assignment is practically a vacation compared to what he normally gets up to, isn’t it Husker?”

“Go f*ck yourself.” Husk said with narrow eyes.

“Alastor, this isn’t about how much he works.” Charlie said, gently stepping out of his grip. “I want to do something nice for him. Besides, with everyone else out what would he do?”

“Polish the glasses.” Alastor said primly and turned to Husk. “Over.” He tilted his head. “And over.” His head tilted more. “And over again.”

Husk growled, his ears going low.

“Alastor it’s fine. The Hotel can work without a bar for one day.” Charlie said and her face fell a bit. “Or every day. I didn’t want it here in the first place. Remember?”

Alastor took a breath, his eyes closing. “I suppose if this is the price of giving you authority over my thralls.” He said and his smile grew. “Does that mean you’re going to do the same with Niffty?”

“That’s the plan.” Charlie said with a smile.

Alastor returned the smile and shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Oh well! It is, after all, your hotel. I can hardly run it for you.” He said as Angel returned and swiftly pressed his lips against Syrup. The mouse gave a soft moan and arched his back.

The kiss broke before Charlie could scold them.

“Gimme five minutes.” Angel said and ran off again. Syrup giggled and pulled out his phone. He started to text.

“So… I can go?” Husk asked uncertainly.

Charlie turned to him and nodded.

“Alright, I’m out of here.” Husk said, making for the door immediately.

“Okay so where’s-” Charlie said before her phone buzzed. She furrowed her brow at it. “Um, Alastor, can you find Niffty for me? I… have to help Angel with something?” She said uncertainly before turning and leaving.

“I’d be delighted to!” Alastor said before doing the same.

Sir Pentious’s eyes went back and forth between them as he realized he was now totally alone in the lobby with Syrup. He cleared his throat. “Ssssso, what sort of… things are you and Angel going to get up to?”

Syrup shrugged, tapping on his phone. “Get wasted, screw strangers. The usual. Maybe go to a party or something.” Syrup said and groaned. “Man, we haven’t been to a party in months.”

“Do you think I could maybe-” Pentious started, but Syrup’s phone rang.

The mouse brightened up and turned to put his feet up on Pentious’s lap as he answered. “Hey Stoly!” He called out and his face immediately fell. “Oh. All that. It went awfully.”

“Go along with you two?” Pentious finished softly.

“Ugh, where do I even start?” Syrup asked his phone, a hand on his head. “He tried to make Angel break up with me.”

Pentious leaned back. What knives were in his drawer weren’t sharp, but sometimes you needed a spoon and he could tell an impossible task when he saw it.

“I mean, he was never the jealous type.” Syrup said, crossing one arm. He smiled. “I mean, I slept around. Ahah. There was a stretch where I did it on purpose, you know? Trying to… piss him off. He’d just cup my cheek and call me a tasty dish, ask me why would he mind if other people wanted to sample? Of course they did, he always said.

He groaned and leaned back, a hand on his forehead. “I don’t know what he’s doing!”

“Uh, Syrup?” Pentious asked.

Syrup looked up at him. “What?” He growled.

“Um, is this about Fi-”

Syrup narrowed his eyes.

“The Overlord you killed?”

Syrup clicked his tongue and put the phone back to his head. “I didn’t kill him.” He said. Then he blinked. “No, I didn’t. Not him. Why would I do that?” He clicked his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Alright, fair. I guess.” He muttered and picked at his hoodie. He made a face. “That seems a bit dramatic.” He rolled his eyes. “Okay, so maybe I slashed his tires once, but I was proving a point! I wouldn’t have done it if didn’t know he could afford to replace them at a moment’s notice.”

“Syrup?” Pentious asked.

“Ugh, what?” Syrup barked.

“I just…” Pentious said, tapping his fingers together. He perked up. “I just wanted to say that I always thought you were innocent.” He said with a wide smile, his eyes closed smugly. They stayed closed for a few seconds before the silence made him open them again. Syrup was glaring at him, his phone still held up.

“I’ll call you back, Stoly.” Syrup said before hanging up.

Pentious swallowed.

Syrup leaned forward. “Innocent?” He asked.

Pentious leaned back, hands up. “J-Just of killing F- uh, your friend.”

Syrup leaned forward more. Pentious leaned back more, then he blinked as Syrup sighed and leaned back again. “Just shut the f*ck up, Penny.”

Pentious frowned. He put a hand to his chin. He blinked at his tail gave a flick. “You know…” Pentious said. “Charlie said that we have the day off… We can do whatever we want.”

“I do what I want every day.” Syrup said without much feeling.

“Well, yes.” Pentious conceded. “But I’ve been shirking my own commitment to mayhem. And I think Fibonacci’s boat would make a prime target.”

“What?” Syrup asked with a smile, unable to stop his brow from going a bit worried. “Penny, he’d eat you alive.”

Pentious stood up. “Nonsense.” He said with a wave of his hand. “I’ve tangled with Alastor and walked away, after all.”

“Because he let you.” Syrup said. Then he shrugged. “Do whatever you want, Penny. That’s the point of today, after all.”

“Can I even do an evil laugh?” Pentious asked.

Syrup shook his head. “What’d I just say?”

Pentious nodded excitedly and then cleared his throat before letting out a loud, long cackle as he made his way to the stairs.

Charlie went to the kitchen and stopped at the door. Angel had already opened every cabinet and drawer, several half-empty containers that were only for ingredients had been pulled out and spilled. He was half on the counter, one knee fully on it as he tried to reach up on top of the high cabinets.

“Um, Angel?” Charlie asked. “I got your text. Is something wrong?”

“Huh?” Angel asked turning around. It took a moment for his focus to accept Charlie’s presence before turning back to his search. “Oh. Charles, ya gotta move faster than that. I sent that text, like, ten minutes ago.”

“It’s been thirty seconds.” Charlie gently corrected as she approached him. “Please tell me nobody’s hurt.”

“What?” Angel asked, turning to look at her. He hopped off the counter. “Okay, look…” He looked around as if he was afraid of someone overhearing. “I just got into a… bit of a pickle and I need your help getting out of it.”

Charlie held a fist up and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll do whatever I can, but you have to tell me what happened.”

“Well…” Angel said, leaning against the counter and crossing his legs at the ankle, one pair of hands going back to the counter for support as the other crossed. “It started a year after I met Syrup. I got him that nice earring he wears. He’d been talkin’ about gettin’ one for a while and I figured, y’know, I’d be cute about it.”

“Okay, well. That is very cute.” Charlie said with a soft smile.

“I know, right?” Angel said proudly. “Then next year I…” His smile fell suddenly and he looked to Charlie. “I did somethin’ nice and romantic, don’t worry about it.” He said and ran a hand over his hair. “But, y’know, I called it his death-i-versary and now I need to keep up with that but I ain’t good at this romance thing. I wanted to ask you for ideas.”

Charlie blinked. “You want gift ideas?”

“Yeah.” Angel said. “You seem like you’re good at that.” He gestured to the chaos in the kitchen. “I was thinkin’, y’know, a cake. You know he likes desserts. But I don’t know sh*t about bakin’. Whatttya think?”

“Okay, well, first, thank you.” Charlie said, with a little nod. “But you’ve known Syrup for way longer than I have.”

Angel shrugged. “Eh, only by, like, a few years.”

Charlie scratched her head. She had thought hard about this kind of thing before. Mortal souls weren’t used to experiencing time like Angel had, after all. They needed to get used to it. Angel had gotten too used to it, it seemed. “Is this like… a relativity thing? You’ve been down here for a long time, after all. Three years of Syrup’s life is a whole tenth of it.” Charlie said, taking a step toward him. “And, y’know, from the sound of things you’ve spent just about all of those years with him. There’s probably not anyone who knows him better than you.” She said with a wide smile and reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder.

Angel stared at her for a second before his face lit up. “Charlie, you’re a f*ckin’ genius!” He said and kissed her cheek before running out of the room.

The elevator dinged.

“Bonjour, darl-” Fibonacci started before a drink hit him in the face. “Ow, f*ck!” He cried, clutching at his cheek. “What the f*ck is your problem, Valentino?” He shouted.

“What the f*ck is my problem?” Valentino asked, two hands to his chest. “Are you serious right now?” He demanded as Fibonacci stepped into the room. Vox was pacing behind Valentino like a shark, glaring at Fibonacci. Velvette and Vandal were sitting together on the couch, ignoring proceedings, only there for (a)moral support. Though Vandal didn’t look to be there at all the way she stared into space, even with Velvette sitting directly on her lap.

Fibonacci paid little attention to the confrontation, sauntering into the lounge as he always did. “Darling, there’s really no need for this kind of outburst.”

Valentino didn’t let him get very far, stepping in front of him and leaning down to put his face into the bird’s. “f*ck you.” He said bluntly. “You lied to me for months.” He growled.

“Us, Val.” Vox corrected calmly, still pacing, still glaring.

Fibonacci put his hands up in an attempt to defuse the other Overlord. “Strictly speaking, darling, I never lied.”

Valentino gripped him by the lapels of his vest and pulled him close. “Do you think this is a f*cking game, Fibonacci? What? Do you think I’m gonna go, ‘Oooh, ya got me. Fair game’? Get. Real.”

Fibonacci pushed him away firmly enough that Valentino took a step back from surprise alone. “Relax!” The bird shouted and dusted himself off a bit. “What was I supposed to tell you? ‘Syrup is an old boyfriend’? How would you have taken that?”

Velvette looked up. “That’s why we’re mad at him?” She asked and shook her head as she turned back to her phone. “f*ck’s sake, Fib. You’re risking all this for that little twerp?”

“Watch yourself, Velly.” Fibonacci said in a tone that made Velvette’s focus shift again and her eyebrow raise.

“What are you even doing here, Fib?” Vox asked as Valentino retreated to pick up a vase and hurl it at Fibonacci.

Fibonacci ducked it. Behind him, one of his butlers caught it and set it on a nearby side table. “I thought we’d all be mature enough to get over a little thing like this.”

“Little thing?” Vox asked, narrowing an eye.

“You promised me that Hotel would be rubble!” Valentino said, pointing out the window at the solitary building in the distance.

Fibonacci followed the finger for a moment before shrugging. “Metaphorically.” Was his excuse.

Valentino only growled at that. Then he stormed across the room to a bureau. He threw it opened. “I’m going to shoot you with every gun I have in here.”

“Don’t bother, Val.” Vox said, rubbing his face with a sigh. To Fibonacci, it was worse than if he just got angry at him. This was like he was some flunky who had failed, and even then it wasn’t surprising.

“But I want to!” Valentino whined.

“It’s not going to fix anything.” Vox said.

“Ugh. Fine.” Valentino said and slammed the bureau closed.

“Holy sh*t, what a waste of time.” The Tech Overlord said smoothly, letting the hand drag down the side of his face.

“Can we try my plan now, Voxxy?” Valentino asked, turning back to him with a small grin. “Kick down the door. Go guns blazing there. Those two will be back in my arms from that alone. They love when I get violent.”

Vox stared at him. “You realize we’re talking about more than your whor*s, don’t you?”

Valentino tilted his head as if in thought. “Hmm.” He shrugged shamelessly. “Nope.” He said with a smile.

“What is the big deal, darling?” Fibonacci asked. “They still work for you, don’t they? Let them have a few months away.” He said and then looked around. “What?” He said to the icy glares.

Vox looked away, pulling out his phone. “Fly back to your tub, Fib.” He said as he sent the careful net of data collection to work. “We’ve wasted enough time on you.”

“f*ck!” Vandal suddenly shouted loud enough for Velvette to flinch. “I’m bored.”

Velvette’s angry expression fell at that and she shared a glance with Vox.

“Yeah?” Vox asked carefully, like an ornithologist spotting a rare bird he didn’t want to spook. “How… How bored are we talking?”

“Ugh.” Vandal said, leaning back, hands still around Velvette. “Like… fifty thousand? More?”

“Yes!” Vox said, phone clutched in an excited fist. “So, Vandal, there’s this venue that-”

“On top of the tower.” Vandal said casually.

“Oh. Love it.” Vox said, turning to his phone with an evil chuckle. “We’ll charge everyone standing outside who can see it.”

“Alright, stay there.” Velvette said, hopping off Vandal’s lap. “I have a few things I’ve been meaning for you to wear anyways.” She said and strode off, heading to her studio.

“I’m sorry, what is going on?” Fibonacci asked.

“Huh?” Vox said, looking up. “Oh, you’re still here.” He said, losing focus once again. “Go home, Fibonacci. We’ve got business, but hey,” He said and gave the bird a smug smile. “Keep a VIP booth warm for us in case we stop by afterwards to celebrate.”

Fibonacci narrowed his eyes at him before Valentino hit him with another thrown item. It landed squarely in the bird’s chest. Fibonacci caught it after a short fumble period. The anger was replaced by confusion as he looked at the slim crimson box.

“What is this?” He asked, holding it up.

“It’s a cigar case, asshole.” Valentino growled. “I got it for you. To celebrate our long and enduring partnership.”

“Stop flirting with the dregs, Val.” Vox said, tone full of distaste. “We’re gonna need your help here.”

Velvette, being the good friend she was, grabbed Fibonacci and pulled him toward the elevator before the fight got worse.

“What do you need my help with?” Valentino asked, turning away from the bird deliberately. “Besides, what about me? I need to do the job Fibonacci f*cked.”

“What?” Vox asked, eyes narrow. “Please try to focus, Valelntino. We’ve got bigger things going on.” He said before making himself scarce in a flash of lightning that leapt away. There was a lot to plan for, after all.

That only left Vandal, who was smiling wider than she had all day. “Any of your girls or boys or whatever know how to use a flamethrower?” She asked, leaning back, putting her spiked boots on the coffee table. “I got an idea for my ‘Cast to Ashes’ number.”

Valentino rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone. Bigger things? God, nobody understood what he was doing here. There was nothing bigger than this.

“I have to do everything myself around here.”

The shout cut through the crowded street. Cherri Bomb detached from the streetlight she was waiting against just in time to catch Syrup as he leapt at her in an all-encompassing hug.

“Holy sh*t!” She said as she hugged him back. “There you two are. Where’ve you bitches been? I haven’t seen ya in months.”

“Ya say that every time ya see us, Cherri.” Angel said as he strut toward them with a smile.

“It has been months, though.” Syrup said as he let the hug relax. “How’ve ya been?”

“Oh, f*ckin’ rad little dude.” Cherri said, leaning down with a grin to get closer to Syrup’s level. “The new extermination date has got everyone goin’ nuts. I can’t go two days without gettin’ into a fight that levels a buildin’. How ‘bout you two?”

She smiled as Syrup and Angel groaned. “We’ll tell ya over drinks.” Angel said.

The bar was one that Cherri had picked out. There was a fight going on in the back but nobody was paying it any attention. It wasn’t a very interesting fight. Just two big demons taking turns punching each other. It looked more like a friendly competition of ‘who passes out first’ than an actual fight. It was hardly the kind of place Syrup and Angel would hang out at, but Cherri’s company was too valuable to pass up.

They took up seats at the counter. “So, where have you two been? Val been on your asses again?”

Syrup and Angel groaned again. Cherri co*cked her brow and smiled at them. “Is that a no?”

“Angel’s still got us shacked up in the Princess’s Hotel for Desperate Souls.”

“Why ya gotta put it like it’s my fault?” Angel asked.

“It was your idea!” Syrup countered with an outstretched hand.

“You guys are still hangin’ out there?” Cherri asked. “Don’t tell me you’re actually buyin’ into that rehabilitation bullsh*t.”

Syrup giggled.

Angel rolled his eyes. “No.”

“So what’re ya doin’ there?”

“They don’t charge us rent.” Angel said.

“And Charlie sucks about finding our stashes.” Syrup added.

“Oh yeah.” Angel said and snickered. “She’s all ‘no drugs’ and then I slip some pills to Syrup just by kissin’ him.”

Syrup giggled. “We turn on the mushy sh*t and she just melts.” Syrup said with sly glee. “And I’ve been making a game out of seeing how many explosives I can fit into the third-floor broom closet before someone notices.”

“Nice.” Cherri said. “So what’s gotcha out today?” She grinned. “She send ya out to give hugs or somethin’?”

“Nah.” Syrup said.

“She gave us the day off to ‘prove we can be good people without supervision’.” Angel said with malicious fingerquotes.

“So…” Cherri said with a wide eye. “You’re gonna-”

“Shots!” Syrup said to the bartender whose attention he’d managed to finally get. “Don’t f*ckin’ skimp. I need a drink.”

“Aw, she ain’t forcin’ ya to teetotal, is she?” Cherri asked, voice thick with abject worry.

“She would if she could.” Angel said, immediately picking up two shots. “But, get this, The Radio Demon saved us from that.” He said, grinning shortly before knocking back each shot with practiced paced that made it look like a lascivious display. It certainly turned some heads, at least.

“What?” Cherri asked, eye wide. “Oh, this I gotta hear.”

“Боже.” Syrup said and knocked back a shot too. “Where to even start? Okay.”

“It starts with Charlie bein’ a dope.” Angel said with a smile. He held up a hand in the vague direction of the Hotel. “She just opens up a big Hotel, says she’s gonna rehabilitate demons and, what?”

“Zip.” Syrup said. “She comes out swinging with no backers.”

“Which is funny cos she’s got the spine of a jellyfish.” Angel added.

Syrup nodded. “So, we’re crashing there for a few weeks and Alastor comes to the front door outta nowhere. Says he wants to be a sponsor. Gave the Hotel a bar, a maid, a bartender and, you know.” He shrugged. “A charmin’, massacrein’ guardian angel.” He said and giggled.

“What’s he want in return?” Cherri asked, her smile gone.

“What’s he keep sayin’, Firebug?” Angel asked.

Syrup shrugged. “Entertainment.”

Angel snickered.

“Is he gettin’ it?” Charlie asked, looking a bit more relaxed.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him in such a good mood.” Syrup said.

Cherri couldn’t help but wince. She loved Syrup as much as she did Angel, Angel would never forgive her if she did otherwise, but the way he talked about Alastor was always so… off-putting. Here was the little guy, even cuter than he was than the day he dropped cos of what he good handle on how deadly he was, and then he’d just namedrop the scariest guy in Hell like he wasn’t even realizing he was doing it.

“So, like… lotta bloody accidents happen there?” Cherri asked.

“Nah.” Angel said with a shrug. “The guy’s a f*ckin’ puss*cat.” Angel said as Cherri put a hand on her forehead. “His bartender gives us a harder time.”

“He says watching the Hotel fail is funny enough.” Syrup said. “Something about watching demons reaching for the pearly gate only to see them slip and fall into the fiery pit of abject failure.” He shrugged. “I don’t get it, personally, but he’s got a refined palette.”

“Just say ya wanna f*ck ‘im, Firebug.” Angel said.

“So I wanna f*ck ‘im. Sue me.” Syrup said with a glower. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Are we done with the questions? Cos that guy at the end of the bar is staring at me and I got five months of not getting dicked enough to get through.”

Husk was at a blackjack table in a more subdued sort of casino. One hand at a bottle, the other around his chips, guarding them like a mother hen.

He didn’t look up at the sudden clamor behind him, even as the other players at the table slipped off their chairs and made careful exits. He lifted up his bottle and took a couple heavy glugs as the dealer stared at something behind him.

Husk couldn’t imagine caring less. “Hey pal. Are we playin’ cards or do ya just want a staring contest? Let’s go, hit me.” He said, tapping his cards.

Someone slid into the seat next to him.

“Deal me in too, darling.” The stranger said to the dealer. He snapped his fingers as his elbows came to rest on the felt of the table. A wad of bills was dropped in front of the dealer. They took it and produced a large stack of chips. They were pushed in front of the newcomer and two cards followed. He didn’t even look at his cards before waving his hand to stand.

“You,” He said, his voice smooth and melodic, “Must be Mister Husk.”

Husk looked up at the bird and his smug smile. He narrowed his eyes. “Lemme guess.” He said. “Fibonacci.”

“The one and only.” Fibonacci said with a smile.

Husk turned away from that smile. He instantly disliked it. Not that Fibonacci didn’t have a charming smile. That was the problem. Husk was just too good at reading people. He saw the promises sleeting off of Fibonacci like rain. He saw how Fibonacci was a man who honored his debts. In both directions. He knew that if he listened to him, if he shook the bird’s hand, then he’d get the city delivered to him on a green felt platter. That, with Fibonacci, Husk would do things he hadn’t done in, god, too long.

Husk was at the wrong point in his afterlife for promises like that.

“Whattya want?” Husk asked a the dealer carefully went bust and handed the two their winnings.

“Right to business? Very well, darling.” Fibonacci said, taking a puff off his cigar as he pushed forward a small stack of chips and got a pair of cards in return. He waved a hand to stand. “I want eyes on Syrup in that piddly Hotel. I want information on what him and that… spider friend of his are getting up to.”

“You’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.” Husk said, after tossing some chips and getting a pair of cards too. He tapped them and got a third. “There’s nothing you’d offer that I’m interested in.” He waved a hand to the dealer.

“I can get you out of your deal with Alastor.”

Husk gave a scoff. “No you can’t.”

Fibonacci gently put a talon under Husk’s chin and tilted his gaze up into his, his face so confident Husk was pushed off his guard. “Yes. I can.” Fibonacci said with his most enticing smile. “I employ many intelligent demons, Husk. Every contract has its loophole.” Fibonacci’s eyes narrowed, his smile grew, and he suddenly looked much more sinister. Husk dug his claws into the table’s felt. “And even if they don’t, well, you and I both know that big bad Overlords are only big and bad right up until they aren’t. Isn’t that right, Mister Husk?”

Husk had to swallow before he managed to slap Fibonacci’s hand away. “You want Syrup back on your side? Why aren’t you offering this help to him? Hell, give it to Angel. Syrup’ll be on your side in a heartbeat with that.”

Husk saw the facade crumble all at once. Fibonacci’s eyes narrowed and his beak parted to let his tongue run along the edge. Then, like a film being played in reverse, the facade came back, but it was too late. Husk had seen under it and he could still see the shape of it under the smile and the twinkle in the bird’s eyes.

“Ahah.” Fibonacci said without mirth. “Syrup can have my help. When. He. Asks for it.”

Husk turned away from him. The conversation had gone sour, and Husk had enough sourness as it was.

The dealer went bust. Fibonacci and Husk collected their winnings and put up chips again.

“My doors stay open, darling.” Fibonacci said, waving his hand without looking at the cards once again. “Say no now, if you like. You can always say yes later. I’m flexible. I’m not asking for much, just whatever you can give me. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Then Fibonacci suddenly turned to the dealer, his expression falling. Here was someone to whom he did not owe a smile. “You stand on seventeen, darling.”

The dealer flinched and laid down a card. She tried a nervous smile at the Overlord. “You, uh, know how this game is played, right sir?”

Fibonacci’s eyes narrowed. “You think I can’t stand to lose five hundred dollars?”

She swallowed and shook her head. “No sir.”

Another stack of chips were thrown against her face. “Then learn how to do your f*cking job and understand where the fun part of gambling comes from.”

He got two cards from the shaking dealer as he turned back to Husk with an expectant smile.

Husk put up more chips too, after collecting his own winnings from the last hand.

“What’re ya offerin’ me here?” Husk asked nastily as he looked at his new cards. “Your soul?”

Husk meant the barb to recoil. To shock and horrify. Instead Fibonacci gave a soft laugh.

“Maybe. I feel you’d treat it well.” Fibonacci said and took a puff on his cigar. “Granted, I’d need something very juicy to hand that over.”

“And here I am without my juicer.” Husk said looking away again.

“How about Syrup’s phone number?” Fibonacci asked.

Husk’s jaw clenched and his tail gave a flick.

“Certainly worth a night or two at Le Bon Temps. All expenses paid.” Fibonacci said and giggled. “Oh yes! What do you say, Husk? VIP treatment at the Casino with seven digits of credit for seven digits.”

Husk’s claw tapped against the table a few times before he realized he was actually considering it.

Fibonacci smiled at him for a moment. “It’s hardy like a phone number is hard to come by, darling.” He said as he took another puff off his cigar. “If you don’t give it to me, someone will.”

Fibonacci watched as Husk went bust and slid his cards to the dealer with a growl.

Fibonacci looked back up, smiling as he toyed with a stack of his chips. “Let me ask you something, Mister Husk.” He said. “No pressure on answering, but I hope you realize why it’s a question I’d have, as someone who cares for Syrup.” The smile stayed up but the twinkle in his eye turned into a hard glint again. “Just what is going on between Syrup and Alastor?”

“Oh, you don’t wanna kick over that stone, Fib. I’ve been around Alastor for a while. Whatever he’s got goin’ on with Syrup, I ain’t ever seen it before.”

“Mhm.” Fibonacci said and shrugged, still smiling. “Give me your best guess.”

Husk only shook his head. “Don’t know. Don’t wanna know. If you were as smart as you think you are, you wouldn’t wanna know either.”

Fibonacci let out a joyful giggle as he stood, pushing his chips over to Husk’s side of the table. “Alastor doesn’t scare me, Mister Husk. Love prevails, after all.” He said as he walked away.

Angel slid back onto the barstool next to Cherri. He had been doing a little bit of sidework and doing it quicker than Syrup did his. He slapped a few bills on the counter and got a couple drinks for him and Cherri in return. He downed one in an instant before turning to Cherri. “Alright, Sugartit*. I didn’t drag you all out here just to hang out. I need your help.”

“You got it.” Cherri said with a grin. “That hotel will be matchsticks by tonight.”

“No! What? No.” Angel said. “This is more important than that.”

Cherri’s eye went wide. “Yeah?”

“I need your help pickin’ a gift for me and Syrup’s anniversary.” He said.

Cherri relaxed and rolled her eye.

“I figure nobody knows Syrup better than you.”

“What the f*ck are ya talkin’ about?” Cherri asked, laughing softly.

“C’mon, you’ve known Syrup the whole time he’s been down here.” Angel said with a tilt of his head. “Ya both like explosives, explosions, and mayhem. D’ya think a bunch of grenades would work?”

Cherri’s smile fell a bit. “Are ya… pullin’ my leg here or somethin’, Angie?”

“C’mon.” Angel said, scowling a bit. “You know I ain’t any good at shoppin’ for people who ain’t me.”

“Ya got him that earring the first year.” Cherri said.

Angel waved a hand dismissively. “He’d been talkin’ about earrings for months.”

“What’d ya get him last year?”

Angel gave a modest chuckle. “Well…” He said before looking to the side. “sh*t! Shh. Here he comes!”

Syrup returned, flashing fans of bills. “More shots!” He said, slapping them down on the counter. “On that guy whose dick I just swallowed!”

A trio of shots were laid onto the counter. Cherri and Angel took a break from their drinks to get their energy back with other drinks. The shot glasses were clicked together and then emptied. Then they were set aside and the next set were emptied.

They went through these motions a few times as Angel and Syrup chatted with Cherri and let the odd weight of the last few months melt off them.

Not that Charlie and her weird Hotel idea was bad, they insisted to Cherri.

“Just that, y’know,” Angel said. “She’s tryin’…” He waved his hand in a circle.

“Tryin’ to change us.” Syrup finished.

“Yeah!” Angel said and finished off his martini before ordering another with a wave of his hand. “I mean, sometimes it feels like she’s got no respect for our charmin’ personalities.” He said, crossing his legs.

“Seriously.” Syrup said, getting more than a little perturbed. “It’s always ‘Syrup, can you put away the ax?’”

Angel snickered. “You’re not doin’ it right. Ya gotta get your eyes bigger. And make your voice do that little shake.”

Syrup laughed. “‘Syrup, can you put away the ax?’” He asked, his voice becoming downright insulting to the absent Princess.

Angel laughed loudly. Cherri laughed sympathetically, and not just to Syrup and Angel. Sure, she loved the two, but living with them sounded like it’d get old real fast. Especially the way, well, take this conversation itself. When you talked with Angel and Syrup, you talked with Angel and Syrup. It took practice not to feel like you were being ganged up on.

She was snapped out of the train of thought by the sound of Angel’s phone buzzing. He looked at it. He clicked his tongue.

“What’s up?” Cherri asked.

“It’s Val.” Angel said and Syrup rolled his eyes.

“Let it go to voicemail.” Cherri said with a casual shrug.

Angel tapped the counter a few times. He downed Syrup’s martini in one swallow.

“Hey!” Syrup said, taking the empty glass as Angel stood up and answered.

“Whattya want, Val?” Angel asked, turning away from the bar and Cherri’s shaking head and moving to find a quiet corner in the back to talk to. Settling for the rear hall the bathrooms were tucked away in.

“Aw, Sweetheart. What’s that tone for?” Valentino asked and Angel felt himself relax against his will.

Angel leaned against one wall with a hand. “Are ya jokin’?” He asked, still careful to keep his voice from getting too aggressive. “You’re askin’ that after what you did to us in the dressing room?”

“Come on, Angie. You’re gonna blame me for that?” Valentino crooned. “You think that was fun for me? To turn and see the Princess in my own studio like that?”

“I… Ya can’t just-”

“Look, it’s fine you’re still mad at me.” Valentino said, and that was a stiff breeze over the already-sputtering match of Angel’s anger.

“It… It is?”

“Of course it is.” Valentino said, letting his voice go sweet. “I heard that Fibonacci wasn’t behaving himself.”

“Oh.” Angel said and turned to lean his back against the wall, his head tilted down and his hand cupping an elbow. “Well… it’s fine. We handled it.”

“Did you? And you didn’t even call me?” Valentino asked, sounding more hurt than angry.

“I… y’know.” Angel said, tugging at his collar. “I didn’t want to ask you to come up against another Overlord.” He said carefully.

“Aw, like I wouldn’t start a war for my boys.” Valentino said and Angel could almost smell his cigarettes,. His breath was getting heavy. “I was thinking, how about you two come up to the Penthouse.?We can relax together. Unwind. Drink. Eat. f*ck. Like old times.”

“Psssh.” Angel said with a roll of his eyes. “‘Old times’.” He shrugged. “It’s been a couple months, Val.”
“And that’s just too long to go without my boys.” Valentino purred.

Angel clenched his eyes shut and rubbed at the back of his head. As ever, saying ‘no’ to Valentino was a tricky prospect. “And… you’ll apologize?” He asked meekly.

“Of course I will, baby.” Valentino said smoothly. “You know how sorry I can be.”

Angel sighed. “Alright, fine.” He said, shifting into the normal way he resisted Val: He got belligerent about obeying him. “We’ll be over in a bit.”

Valentino chuckled. “You’ll be over in ten minutes.” He said.

Angel groaned as he hung up, tilting his head back as he pushed off from the wall.

“What’s the damage?” Syrup asked as Angel came back.

“He wants us. Now.” Angel said.

“f*ck’s sake.” Syrup said, running a hand over his hair.

Cherri groaned too. More out of frustration than anything. “Figures.” She said, leaning on the bar. “Ya get a day to yourselves and that prick instantly takes it away from ya.”

“Yeah well,” Angel said as Syrup stood. “He didn’t say he wants us for work, at least.”

“That’s something.” Syrup said.

Alastor watched happily from his armchair, legs crossed, arms folded. His eyes were on Niffty’s helplessly perplexed expression.

“So,” Charlie was saying, on her knees to get closer to the small sinner. “I want you to relax.”

“Ahuh.” Niffty said with a nod.

“Which means that I want you to do something that you like. Something that helps you relax. Something that maybe you don’t get to do very often.” Charlie said with a careful smile.

“Ahuh.” Niffty said, nodding.

“Okay, great.” Charlie said, her smile growing. She had been working on this for the last hour. “And that is…” She said, holding out her hand to let Niffty finish the sentence.

Niffty leaned forward with a wide grin. “I want to hunt and kill vermin at the hotel!”

Charlie hung her head as Alastor chuckled..

“You do that every day!” Charlie pleaded.

Niffty nodded, her smile wide.

“Babe.” Vaggie said from where she was crouched in front of the fireplace, one hand up the chimney. She was using the opportunity to try and find the stashes their guests were keeping. “Just… let her do what she wants.”

“One more try.” Charlie said. “I think I’m almost through to her.” She said and smiled to Niffty again. “Okay. Niffty.”

“Ahuh.” Niffty said.

“I want to give you a day off.” Charlie said for the fourth time today.

Alastor closed his eyes and took a breath. That was probably enough idle pleasures for today. There was work to be done. Such work. Time’s boots were ever-marching forward, after all. There were loose ends to see to. He had to ensure nothing extraneous got in the way.

“Where are you going?” Vaggie asked when Alastor was halfway across the lobby.

Alastor grinned before turning to face Vaggie as she stood up, one of her hands covered in soot. “Aren’t I allowed to enjoy a day off as well?”

Charlie was up in a flash. “Ahah. Of course you are, Alastor. Just. Um…” She leaned back as her grin got worried. “You… aren’t going to do anything… abominable, are you?”

Alastor blinked and took a few long steps toward Charlie. “Why, whatever would give you the idea that I would, dear Charlie?”

“Everything you’ve ever done since we’ve met you.” Vaggie said. “And before.”

Alastor rolled his eyes and leaned forward, giving his head a little shake. “I am only going to say hello to some acquaintances and follow up on some delectable rumors.”

“So… no acts of violence or terror?” Charlie said uncertainly.

Alastor gave an avuncular chuckle. “Miss Charlie, I hardly go out of my way to start fights and send people screaming. Why it’s merely a fact of life in our magnificent home.” He said with an easy grin and a wave of his hand like he was gesturing to all of Hell. “Something you would do well to learn, if I may be so bold.”

“That isn’t a no, Alastor.” Charlie said with a knit brow.

Alastor’s smug grin fell to only a smile. He sighed as he straightened up, his eyes closed. “No.” He said, voice disappointed at being denied even a little bit of twisty wordplay. “As I said, I’m going for a walk.” Alastor said as he adjusted his sleeve.

“And?” Charlie asked, her hands clasped together nervously.

Alastor looked down at her with wide eyes. “Why, Miss Charlie. I must give you some credit. You’re doing what hundreds in Hell have failed to do for decades and are actually wounding me.” He asked, ever-present smile still on his lips. “Do you honestly think so little of me that you permit me no thoughts in my head but those of cruelty I can commit on others?”

“Uh, well-” Charlie started, seeming truly remorseful.

Alastor turned away, back of his hand to his forehead. “No no. I understand. There must be some limit to redemption, after all. What music in my soul I have surely can’t ever overcome the screaming my hands have produced.” He said, grinning evilly with his back to Charlie.

Charlie didn’t give him much time to wait. “Alastor, of course not.” She said, reaching up to put a hand on his shoulder. “Nobody is beyond redemption.”

Alastor rolled his eyes before turning his head to look at the Princess. “You truly think so?” He asked.

“Of course.” Charlie said with a soft smile. “I’m sorry I ever made you think otherwise.”

Alastor smiled at her. “Oh, you.” He said with a playful wave of his hand. “Such a ray of sunshine. I just can’t stay upset.”

Charlie smiled wider. She held up her arms. “Hug?” She asked.

“Certainly!” Alastor said, spreading his arms out too.

Charlie squealed as she attached herself to him.

Alastor returned the embrace for only a moment, just long enough to shoot a smug grin to Vaggie.

The white-haired demon rolled her eye as Charlie detached after a judicious amount of time.

“Enjoy your day off, Alastor.” Charlie said.

“Oh, I’m certain I will.” Alastor said. He gave Vaggie a little bow. She rolled her eyes again, but more aggressively.

“Whatever.” She said. “Not like we can stop you from doing anything anyways.”

Alastor gave a chuckle and made for the door again. He stepped outside and paused to adjust his bow tie and conjure his cane. His ears twitched on top of his head as he heard the cautious chiding from Vaggie and the exuberant hope from Charlie.

Oh, it did Alastor’s heart good to hear that kind of hope.

To say nothing of what it did for his appetite.

Now… which way was it again? Ah yes, of course.

With a happy hum and a jaunty spring in his step, Alastor started toward the eastern arm of the city.

Valentino was pouting on his couch. The rest of the Vees had f*cked off to deal with Vandal’s bullsh*t. Sometimes he was sorry he had ever introduced her to them. There was so little overlap between what she did and what he did when her sh*t kicked off there was nobody to pay attention to him.

He took a testy drag from his cigarette and blew out the smoke petulantly. He clicked his tongue and kicked the coffee table.

Then his phone buzzed. He looked at it. It was a desperate plea from the front desk, which made his eyes narrow, but what it was asking him to do made him smile.

He stood up and strode slowly to the elevator. No need to rush, after all. He rode down, foot tapping, cigarette rapidly filling the small space with that red fug that surrounded him. Until the doors opened and it spilled out over the lobby, coiling around legs and slinking around corners.

Valentino’s smile split into a grin.

It was impossible to tell what had started it, if it was anything at all. One of them might have just thought they heard or saw one of Vox’s little nerds give some insult or look at them funny. So Syrup had the geek against the wall, finger in his face as the other hand gripped his shirt, his tail thrashing. Angel was right behind him, arms crossed and glaring daggers at the unlucky poindexter in the too-spiffy blazer.

f*ck, they were just the cutest.

The clatter of fear and uncertain-looking security personnel all slowly backed down as Valentino took long strides into the lobby.

“Boys.” He said softly. His voice carried across the lobby anyway. Everyone in the Vee’s tower was aware of Valentino’s temper. There was almost an air of pity for Syrup and Angel. Almost.

They stopped and looked to Valentino. He grinned at them.

“Let him go, Sugar.”

Syrup’s claws released the geek’s sweater like they were spring-loaded.

“Come here.” Valentino said as he turned back to the elevator.

Angel and Syrup followed. Valentino was smiling right now, after all, and neither of them wanted to risk changing that. They stood on either side of him as the elevator rose up.

“That wasn’t just to piss off Vox, was it Sugar?” Valentino asked with a smile.

Syrup looked at him before smiling back. “Was that one of Vox’s?”

“He started it.” Angel said, crossing his arms. “He was starin’.”

“It’s your job to be stared at.” Valentino said, bringing his cigarette holder to his lips.

“And he wasn’t payin’.” Angel said, primping his hair primly with two hands.

“So I wanted to make him pay.” Syrup said with a grin, making Angel snicker.

Valentino let out the red smoke with a laugh. Then the elevator doors opened and Valentino strode into his suite, the two right behind him.

Syrup’s eyes scanned the surroundings, his arms crossed, his tail twitching. “Where’s the rest of them?”

“Relax Sugar.” Valentino said, stopping to grin at them. “They’re all away on business. Even Vox.”

Syrup visibly relaxed at the news.

Valentino turned back and strode to the couch and sat down. “How about drinks?” He asked and didn’t wait for an answer. “Kitty!” He shouted, rousing the robot from where it had been lying in a heap in a corner where Valentino had left it. “Drinks!” The mechanical imp gave a bow with an obsequious grin before speeding to a drinks cabinet that was more of a drinks wardrobe.

Valentino turned back and crooked a finger to his employees. “Come on boys. I won’t bite.”

Syrup and Angel exchanged a glance. They both recognized one of Valentino’s upswings and weren’t about to disrupt it. They joined him on the couch, one on either side. One of Valentino’s hands wrapped around each of their hips.

“How have you two been, hm?” He asked, looking from one to the other. “That Princess treating you like you deserve? I mean, I doubt it. I don’t know how you two can stand staying in that place.”

“It looks worse from the outside.” Angel said casually, leaning back and crossing his legs.

“These days.” Syrup said as the robot laid a trio of full glasses on the coffee table in front of them. Syrup’s and Angel’s were pink, Valentino’s was red. “It was gross when we moved in.”

Angel snickered. “Oh yeah. What was it you said? That the floor was more co*ckroach than floor?”

Syrup laughed and nodded. “That’s right.” Then he rolled his eyes. “And Charlie still got pissy about me starting fires.”

“Aw.” Valentino said, leaning down as the hand with the cigarette holder went under Syrup’s chin. “What’d I say? She doesn’t know how to handle you.” He said as another hand came around to cup Syrup’s cheek.

Syrup paused before lidding his eyes. “Who does?”

Valentino chuckled as he straightened up. “Oh, I think I can guess.” He said before standing. “How about you, Sweetheart?” He asked as he moved to a record player, setting it to fill the room with smooth, throbbing music.

“Eh.” Angel said, grabbing his drink. “It’s annoyin’, but it beats payin’ rent. Her whinin’ about ‘Oh, maybe cut down on the drugs’ and ‘Do you think you two could stop f*ckin’ in the lobby’ are easy to tune out.”

“She doesn’t even say ‘f*cking’.” Syrup corrected with a smirk. “She says ‘cuddling’.”

“Language.” Valentino chided gently, making Syrup pout.

Angel laughed. “Right! Man, she’s adorable.”

“Oh, she sounds absolutely precious.” Valentino said as he turned around to grin at them. “So, who wants to tell me what happened at Fibonacci’s joint?”

Syrup and Angel both groaned.

“How d’ya even know about that?” Angel asked.

“You think I don’t keep an eye on my boys?” Valentino asked strutting toward them again. “I know you got onto Fib’s boat.” He leaned down to cup Angel’s chin. “What’s up, Sweetheart? Is Fib trying to suck royal dick too?”

Valentino kept his smile up but tilted his head at the wince Angel gave.

His gaze was pulled away by the long groan from Syrup. “He was never one of my victims, Val.” The mouse said. “He was a boyfriend from life. Now he’s just… jealous.”

Valentino straightened up, his smile falling as a couple arms crossed. He knew that story. He was a pimp in Hell, after all. Fibonacci wasn’t even the first creep to stalk after Syrup. Valentino took a long drag from his cigarette as he paced in front of the couch. Exhaling the smoke, filling the air. He turned his head to look over the two, his expression all business. “You two okay? Did he hurt you?”

They both shrugged, arms crossed.

“He got me with a cheap shot to the gut.” Syrup said.

Valentino’s eyes narrowed.

“Nothin’ past that.” Angel said. “‘Cept for ear damage cos a’ how much he talks.” He said with a roll of his eyes.

Valentino grinned, but his eyes stayed narrow. “Is that right?”

Syrup opened his mouth. He felt himself reflexively wanting to defend Fibonacci, but he stopped. He turned his head to glance at Angel. The spider co*cked an eyebrow at him. Syrup turned back to Valentino with a small smile. “What’re ya thinkin’ about, Daddy?” He asked, his tail coiling in the air.

Valentino strut past Syrup, a hand going out to run over his cheek as he past. “I’m thinking… I could go for some lunch.”

This was just business went in Hell, he supposed. You’re in the back, going over the stock, checking what work needed doing, who needed to be called for complete orders. You hear the bell ring over the front door. You step out behind the counter and see The goddamned, motherf*cking Radio Demon leaning over a rack of pocket squares.

The small sinner froze and, with as little movement as possible, slowly started to duck behind the counter. Alastor, humming pleasantly to himself, gently grabbed a tie and felt at the material.

“Excuse me, my good man.” He said suddenly, making the tailor jump with a yelp.

The tailor coughed and slunk around the counter gently, wringing his hands as he came to a stop next to Alastor. He cleared his throat. “Yes sir? See something you like?”

Alastor slowly turned his head. The tailor’s eye twitched. “I have a special order.” Alastor said. “A gift for a friend.” He went on, still smiling. “I’ve been picturing a bow tie. Gradient reds and oranges fading into black. It should put one in mind of staring into a roaring fire.”

“O-Oh, um…” The tailor said, pulling out a notebook and taking down the order with Alastor’s exact words. Just in case. “That sounds… eminently doable, yes.” He muttered. Then he flinched as he looked back up and saw that Alastor was grinning wide right at him.

“Your name is Igly, correct?”

The small white mouse nodded. “Ah, that’s right sir.” He said, trying to hide behind his notebook at the sudden terror creeping up his spine that f*cking Alastor knew him by name.

Alastor leaned down, staring into Igly’s eyes. The mouse shivered, unable to look away as Alastor’s eyes bore into his.

“I-I-I-Is something the mater, s-s-sir?” Igly whimpered.

“The bow tie will be ready in?” Alastor prompted with a cruel curve to his voice.

“Oh! U-Uh. Well, let’s see. I-I have-”

“Three hours?” Alastor suddenly suggested.

The response was automatic. “Three hours!” The mouse agreed in a rush.

“Oh?” Alastor said with a tilt of his head that, in the situation, could only be called feline. “You don’t think the speed will effect the quality?”

“Aha. Ahaha!” Igly said. “N-No. Not at all.”

Alastor, still smiling at the mouse, leaned up and checked his watch. He looked down again and grinned. “See you in three hours.” He said and left, humming.

Igly watched him go until he stepped out of sight from the shop’s windows. He dashed into the backroom again. “f*ck f*ck f*ck f*ck!”

Down the street, Alastor chuckled to himself as he strolled.

Fibonacci strode into the restaurant with a smile that immediately fell. He snapped his fingers and the maître d' was immediately pushed to the wall by a butler.

“What the f*ck is this?” Fibonacci demanded, getting right into the host’s face.

“I-I’m doing what you told me!” The maître d' said desperately. “You said if the little mouse came in to call you immediately. You told that to all of-”

“Are you thick?” Fibonacci hissed. “He’s with Valentino.” He said and gave a long sigh before his employee could defend himself. “Don’t scream.”

The maître d' had didn’t have time to ask before the burning tip of Fibonacci’s cigar was pressing against his forehead. He had to put a hand over his mouth before Fibonacci dropped the snubbed cigar and turned away.

“Clean that up.” Fibonacci said as he waved to the cigar without looking at him. “Don’t let this place become a sty or you’re taking a swim.” Fibonacci said, his voice pure loathing.

Valentino was in a back booth, the biggest one. Empty glasses and greasy plates were stacked him and his guests. Syrup was on one side and – Fibonacci’s eye twitched – the junkie was on the other.

All three, he realized, were looking at him. Angel’s expression was familiar to him. Fibonacci had seen it a thousand times before. Angry, but only because he recognized how scared he was of the bird and how there was nothing he could do about that fear.

Fibonacci savored it for only a moment before his eyes caught Syrup’s and, oh. That face was a heartbreaker. It was pure simmering anger. Beyond that, even. Almost resentment. Fibonacci sighed.

God, he could hold such a grudge.

And Valentino was Valentino. Grinning that grin he wore when he had the upper-hand.

Well, Fibonacci knew how to deal with that. He put on his best smile, adjusted his cuffs and strode toward the three.

“Darlings!” He called, arms spread wide. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were coming along? I would have prepared better. Given you the VIP treatment, you know.”

“You know me, Fib.” Valentino said, grin not falling. “I don’t like making reservations. I like watching people scurry to much.” He said and took a long drag off his cigarette before reaching over and tapping the ash off into an ashtray. “Gotta say, though. You have got some first-class scurriers here.”

“They know how generous you can be.” Fibonacci said with a smile.

Valentino chuckled and countered with a sinister tilt of his head down, his heart-shaped shades glowing under the shadow of his hat’s brim. “I can be, can’t I boys?”

“Sometimes too generous.” Angel said, voice a low growl.

“Oh? You think so?” Valentino asked, voice all concern as he leaned over to Angel, entirely ignoring Fibonacci. “What do you mean, Sweetheart?”

“I mean, you’re burnin’ your time with this upstart.” Angel said with a smirk, jerking a thumb toward Fibonacci.

Valentino gave a thoughtful hum as he sat back up. He grabbed his drink and drained it. “I think you’re onto something, Angel-Cakes.” He said, grinning at Fibonacci as the bird folded his arms with an extravagant motion.

“And what’s that deal ya got to loan him hookers to his places?” Angel asked. The anger was gone now, replaced with mainline smugness.

Valentino’s eyes went wide in faux-surprise. “Hey, you’re right! It has been a while since we reupped that little agreement, hasn’t it Fib? After all, you’re doing pretty good for yourself. You can spare a bit more of the take.”

Fibonacci narrowed his eyes, smile gone. “What is this?”

“It’s a shakedown.” Syrup said, voice like a knife.

Fibonacci glared at him. The glare grew in intensity when Valentino’s hand came down gently between his ears.

“Easy Sugar.” Valentino said and stood up. “Daddy’s got this.”

Fibonacci rolled his eyes as Valentino rounded the table and stepped toward Fibonacci. “Honestly darling. These childish games are beneath us. Call my f*cking accountant and-”

Valentino gave him a short sharp punch to the stomach. It wasn’t a lot, just what Valentino felt he was owed, but Fibonacci crumpled to his knees.

Valentino watched with a smile. He pulled a stack of bills out of his coat and started to count from it. “You really need to remember some sh*t, Fibonacci. You took to Overlording like a duck to water, but you’re still only the latest thing. When you prove you have the stamina, then you can try to play footsie with me.” Satisfied that the separated bills were enough for lunch, and not a dollar more, he tossed them into the air.

He leaned down and growled, so that only Fibonacci could hear him, “Keep your hands off the merchandise.”

Then he turned and left, Syrup and Angel standing to follow as Fibonacci pulled himself to his feet with a firm grip on the table.

“Syrup.” He said, the word coming out more on reflex than anything.

Syrup stopped. So did Valentino and Angel, turning to watch the mouse.

He sighed and turned his head to look at the stricken bird. “Don’t talk to me right now, Fib.” He said, voice another knife, this one sharper and made of ice.

Then he turned again and stepped into Valentino’s waiting arm.

Valentino gave Fibonacci a wink over his shoulder as he walked out with the two in two.

Fibonacci tugged at his beak with a hand as he straightened up. ‘Right now’? Fine. He was willing to cling to that bit of flotsam. He knew what Syrup was like, after all. Better than either of those cretins.

He looked around at the other customers, feeling scandal creeping up his spine as he counted the carefully-observing gazes. He gave a laugh. “Bit of a political quarrel. I don’t know about you all, but I could use a round of drinks. On me.”

That was met with general approval. Fibonacci turned to the bar, smiling. He wasn’t going to let a cheap shot like that from someone like Valentino get him down.

That would be as good as admitting defeat.

Valentino’s limo rolled down the street. The driver had been given instructions to go slow. That was because Valentino knew that Syrup would be on his lap, kissing him heavily the instant the door closed.

“Aw, lookit you.” Valentino purred into Syrup’s face as the kiss broke, one hand on the mouse’s back. “Ya that scared of the bird?”

Syrup smiled at him. “Nah. I just like seein’ ya lay down the law.”

Valentino brought up a hand to cup Syrup’s cheek. “Come on, Sugar. You know how this works by now. Anyone messing with you is messing with me. Even other Overlords. Especially other Overlords.” He shook his head and leaned his face close to Syrup’s. “We can’t let them step on my territory, can we?”

Syrup giggled. “Of course we can’t.”

Valentino chuckled, a free hand around Angel, groping him so hard the spider was grunting and gasping. He leaned forward, capturing Syrup’s mouth in a kiss again, sliding his tongue into Syrup’s mouth. The mouse grunted into the kiss as a hand went to Valentino’s shoulder. His back arched as he felt Valentino’s long tongue slide down his throat.

Syrup’s eyes rolled back as he swallowed the tongue, inviting Valentino’s intoxicating red spit into his body, not for the first or last time. When Valentino pulled back, Syrup coughed and some of the moth’s drool even slipped from between his lips. His head tilted down until he could only see Valentino’s smile as he wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

He saw the cigarette holder go to Valentino’s mouth. Saw the glowing tip sizzle as the moth took a drag. Saw the smoke leak from his mouth and invade Syrup’s nose.

Syrup let it, inhaling with relish. The scent alone was worth it, the warming, intoxicating feeling that flowed into his body from his lungs was the cherry on the cake. It’s not like he needed it at this point.

“Tell me how much you want it, Sugar.” Valentino purred as the smoke wafted around the limo, surrounding Syrup and Angel. Another hand went to Syrup’s back, both going low to grip Syrup’s pants and tug them down and out of the way.

“I live and die for it, Val.” Syrup said with a smile, his breath heavy.

Valentino gave a low laugh. “Good boy.”

“Val, hey.” Angel said, his voice heavier than Syrup’s. “Don’t leave me hangin’ here.” Then the spider gave a sharp gasp that lifted his back off the limo’s seat.

“I have four hands, Sweetheart.” Valentino said.

Angel only answered with a long, breathy moan, a hand going to his face as a wide smile formed under it.

From there, Valentino pressed his face against Syrup’s again. His hands went to the mouse’s hips and firmly urged him down. Valentino smiled as he watched Syrup’s face and as he felt the mouse’s body around his co*ck.

The mouse let out a moan into Valentino’s mouth and the moth smiled. He still moaned like it was the first time taking his co*ck all over again. His face was still the face of a needy bitch getting every itch he could imagine scratched.

Valentino leaned back, his hands going across the back of the limo’s seats. Syrup knew what was expected of him, after all.

And Syrup performed. His hands on Valentino’s shoulders shifted him up and down, moaning into his boss’s mouth. Valentino tired of that pretty quick, though. Instead he pulled back and drunk in Syrup’s lust-drunk face for a moment. The face that had made him a mint, and promised to make him much more.

Then he swiftly spun Syrup around and then pulled his back against his chest.

“Val?” Is all Syrup got to say before giving a soft gasp as Valentino leaned down to kiss his neck.

“You f*cked Fib while you were there, didn’t ya Sugar?” Valentino asked.

“I-”

“Keep those hips moving for Daddy.”

Syrup nodded and shifted to move his hips up and down. He gave a soft coo as a couple of Valentino’s hands started to wander over him. His legs were pulled together and his shorts were peeled off and tossed away, letting the mouse’s stiff co*ck spring free.

Valentino’s hands ignored it, one going to his stomach and the other crawled under Syrup’s hoodie to grope at his chest. Valentino chuckled as every grope rewarded him with a sharp clench around his dick.

“You were saying, Sugar?”

“Of course I did, Val.” Syrup groaned. “I had to.”

Valentino chuckled. “Of course you did.” He grinned. “How was he?”

Syrup gave a laugh that was cut off with a moan and a delighted narrow of Valentino’s eyes. “H-He was embarrassing, Val.” He said

Angel gave a laugh that was cut off by a desperate moan.

“So how am I doing compared to him?” Valentino asked with another squeeze to Syrup’s chest.

Another moan, another clench that squeezed a breathy laugh out of Valentino. “Blowin’ him out of the water.”

The hand at Syrup’s stomach crawled upward. It went under Syrup’s chin and tilted it up until he was looking up into his face. “Oh, I know it. Like I gotta worry about some preppy dipsh*t you already used up.” He said before kissing Syrup again, keeping that grip on his chin as he started to work his hips again.

Short, quick thrusts combined with Syrup’s desperate twitches around him soon had the both of them hitting their peak and spilling their pleasure. Then Syrup was unceremoniously pushed off Valentino’s lap and left to recover on the floor as the moth fell onto Angel.

“Vandal?”

“Ahuh?”

“Look at me Vandal.”

“I’m lookin’.” Vandal said as she stared at the speakers that were being raised to add another two stories’ worth of height to the Vee’s tower.

Velvette reached up to grab the singer’s jacket and pull her down. “Look at me Vandal!” She shouted.

“Whoa, what?” Vandal said, her expression one at pure befuddlement at the sudden aggression.

“We live in the tower, understand?”

“Yeah?” Vandal said, her eyes narrowing in uncertainty.

“So you can’t wreck it. Understand?”

Vandal blinked. “But-”

“No.”

“Just a-”

“No, Vandal.”

“I only wanna-”

“No!”

Vandal leaned back and groaned, hands to her face.

“You’re the one who wanted to do this on top of the tower.” Velvette said, relaxing as much as she did and turning her focus to her phone.

“I wanted to be high up!” Vandal whined before turning to some of the large demons assembling the stage. “Hey!” She shouted. “No! Get that thing right up against the edge. No, f*ck that. I want to be hanging over the edge when I play!” She said, both fists up at excitement at the idea. She turned to Velvette. “Babe, c’mon. I gotta wreck sh*t for my show.”

“Oh, pfffft.” Velvette said with a roll of her eyes. “Tear down some of the other buildings then.” She said and did a scan of the surrounding streets. “Oh, ugh. There.” She said, pointing. “That cafe? Turn it into a parking lot. They’ve gotten my order wrong twice now.”

“Done!” Vandal said. “And a lot of other sh*t too, probably.”

Velvette flashed her a cruel smile. “You’re a peach, dear.”

“Hell yeah I am.” Vandal said. “You seen Thrum and Crash?”

Velvette’s pleased expression fled and she looked back to her phone. “No. When are you going to get real bandmates and not a pair of imps?”

“The second they die.” Vandal said with a wide smile. “Like I keep telling you guys.” She leaned back, her hands out. “Hey, I’m just as surprised that they’re still kickin’ as you are.”

Velvette rolled her eyes as Vandal pulled out her phone and tried to call the two again. “We sellin’ tickets?”

“Yep.” Velvette said.

“How many?”

Velvette rolled her eyes. “A bunch.”

“Sick.” Vandal said and held the phone to her face. “Crash! Great. Grab Thrum. We got a gig. Get to the tower and get ready to tear sh*t the f*ck down.” Vandal said, making horns with her free hand out of sheer excitement.

Fibonacci leaned back in the little ferry heading toward Le Bon Temps. His feet were up on the back of the seat in front of him, his legs crossed. A hand dangled over the side of the boat, lit cigar trailing smoke over the water.

“Bubble.” Fibonacci said without opening his eyes. “I’m in a bad mood.”

The purple and pink raccoon occupying the seat next to him nodded. “Should I have your VIP booth in the Opium Pit reserved?”

Fibonacci shook his head. “Worse mood.”

“Oh. Uh. Should I have a couple escorts waiting for you in Le Foyer?”

“Worse mood.” Fibonacci said and frowned a bit. “Get my box in The Bilge ready.”
“Yes Boss.”

Fibonacci brought the cigar to his mouth and took a large puff. His moment of petulant relaxation was cut off by a shrill voice calling out from above.

“Oh, what fresh Hell?” Fibonacci said and leaned over the edge of the boat to look upwards. “Bubble, what is that?”

“Uh, a blimp?”

“I can see it is a blimp, thank you. What is it doing in my airspace, shouting at me?”

The raccoon produced his cellphone. “I’ll have it shot down.”

“See that you do.” Fibonacci said as he reclined again and listened close.

“That’s right! Your doom has come!” Sir Pentious’s called out across the water. “I shall see you plucked for your transgressions! When I deliver a delightful eiderdown pillow cushioned with your- Is that a cannon?”

There was a boom from the direction of Le Bon Temps, then a satisfying tearing sound.

“Aha!” The voice shouted on. “It will take more than a mere fourteen-pound ball of iron to vanquish the machines of the ingenious Sir Penti- Oh sh*t!”

Fibonacci took a thoughtful puff off his cigar as the chorus of explosions rang out. The blimp turned and fled as it slowly sunk from the air. Fibonacci watched it go for a little bit before sighing and turning back to Bubble. “How are the loan sharks doing, darling? I could stand to watch someone get something broken.”

Bubble perked, eager to be the bearer of good news. “Oh, yeah. We did just hand out fifty grand to some old bitch with a history of skipping payments.”

Fibonacci leaned back again, his foot kicking gently. “Goodie.” He said with a smile. “Keep me appraised. I want to be there when we collect.” Fibonacci said and got comfortable in his seat. “I need to work through some sh*t.”

The lights had been dimmed in Valentino’s suite. Angel and Syrup were both very high. Stray powder, credit cards, and bills, some still rolled into straws, littered the coffee table. So were a couple dozen empty glasses. A few toys were here and there on the table and the floor around it. And one was in Syrup’s hand, though that one wasn’t sexual.

The mouse stood in his underwear, pointing the toy at Valentino’s robot on the other side of the room. His tongue was stuck out as he tried to ignore Angel’s moans as Valentino f*cked him into the couch.

Syrup aimed and pulled the trigger. “Блять.”

He aimed again and pulled the trigger. “Блять!”

He narrowed his eyes and pulled the trigger again. “Блять!”

Syrup growled as he fed more suction-cup darts into the toy gun. Kitty stood still, smiling dumbly, surrounded by darts that had failed to hit him.

As Syrup grumbled and loaded the gun, he missed how Angel gave a last gasping moan before collapsing onto the couch, panting heavily. Valentino’s hand crawling up his arm keyed him into the fact it was his turn for a dose of poisonous affection. “Language, Sugar.”

“I wasn’t.” Syrup said, pouting.

“I know a swear when I hear it.” Valentino said as his hand found Syrup’s on the toy’s trigger. “I’m only letting it pass this time because your shooting really is bad. I’d swear too. You need those glasses checked?”

“No. I got it. Just.” He grumbled as he lifted the little pistol again. “The co*ke is messing with my aim.” Syrup muttered.

“Uh huh.” Valentino said as another hand wrapped around Syrup at his chest. “I know your problem. You think too much about making the bullet go where you want. You get in your own way.”

Valentino shifted the gun with his finger over Syrup’s on the trigger. “You just need to let the gun do most of the work. Place the barrel where it needs to be and squeeze.”

The dart fled the barrel with a soft little ‘fwip’ and struck Kitty right between its lighted eyes. It stuck a synthetic forked tongue out in celebration.

Valentino chuckled as the hands shifted, wrapping around Syrup and pulling him closer. “Even Angel gets that.”

Syrup cooed as Valentino’s hands wandered over his chest and down his stomach. “We don’t gotta worry about Angel thinking too much, huh?” He asked with a glance to Angel. Then he gasped as Valentino’s hand dove into the mouse’s panties and gave his co*ck a squeeze.

Angel had hoisted himself to rest his elbow on the back of the couch, supporting his head to stare at them. His eyes were lidded and his breath still heavy.

“f*ck, the two of you are sexy.” He said.

Valentino took a drag off his cigarette as he pulled desperate whines and squirms out of Syrup while looking thoughtful. He stood up from where he was kneeling behind the mouse, dragging his hands through the white fur as Syrup moaned. His wings hung off of him less like a coat and more like an open robe. His cufflinks still glinted.

Syrup didn’t notice them. He was too busy joining Angel in staring at the Overlord’s chest.

Valentino looked from one to the other before smiling. “We’re going shopping.” He said suddenly, making the two perk up. “Put on something slu*tty.”

“Can I get a shower first?” Syrup asked. “I miss your shower. It’s all tubs and brass fittings back at the Hotel. Not a single walk-in. I feel like a bum.”

Valentino chuckled. “Sure thing, Sugar. Make it quick. Use that soap in the pink bottle. I like how it smells on you.”

Syrup nodded and moved to the bathroom as Valentino strode back to the couch, grabbing a glass from the table before sitting down.

Once Syrup was through the door, Angel turned to the moth. “Hey, Val. I need a hand with somethin’.”

Valentino glared at the glass as he realized it was empty he tossed it over his shoulder. “Sure thing, Angel-Cakes. Name it.” He said as he picked up another glass.

“So, me and Syrup’s anniversary is comin’ up, y’know?” Angel asked.

Valentino laughed as put down the other glass, reaching for a third. One of them had to have at least swallow left. “You’re still on that sh*t?”

Angel’s mouth went tight. “Val, c’mon.” He said, lifting a hand and leaning forward, hoping to catch Valentino’s full attention. This was important. “It’s like I said last year. I’m locked in now. I gotta.” He leaned forward more, resting the raised hand on Valentino’s bare chest between the furred fringes and stroking there. “You know him best. Whattya think’d be a good gift?”

Valentino waved a hand without looking at him. “I dunno. Gun, knife.” He gave Angel a skeptical look. “He’s a psycho, Angel. Get him somethin’ violent.” He said and frowned as more glasses filled his hands and each revealed themselves to be empty. “Kitty!”

“It’s gotta be somethin’ special, Val.” Angel said, a hand on his forehead. “I can’t just buy him… whatever.”

Valentino smiled as another drink was slotted into his hand. He turned to Angel. “Yes you can, baby.” He said as he stood. He crooked a finger at Angel as he started to stride across the room. Angel stood and followed. “You could spit in his hand and he’d be on his knees thanking you. We both know what he’s like.” Valentino said as he moved through his bedroom and into his closet. “The kid’s so starved for affection it’s sad.”

Angel didn’t know how to counter that point. He knew the shape of what he wanted to say, but his thoughts moved too fast for him to grab the right words for it.

How could he say that that was the point? That Angel could get Syrup absolutely anything and that was the reason that Angel couldn’t, under any circ*mstances, get him just anything.

He settled for shrugging and smiling. “I gotta top last year’s gift, don’t I?”

“We’ll get him someone else tied to a chair.” Valentino said. “He was too cozy with that lizard. He went easy on him.” Two hands stuck out from behind the door, an occupied hanger dangling from each. “Which one?”

Angel’s eyes went from one top to the other. “The corset.”

Valentino chuckled and the hands retracted. “You have such good tastes, Angel-Cakes.”

Angel ran a hand over his hair as he sat on the edge of Valentino’s bed. “He says that bird bitch still circles him when he goes out.”

“Who?” Valentino asked, leaning out from behind the door, arm halfway through the corset and face a portent of death.

Angel waved a hand. “‘Nother bitch he iced. Cop lawyer who was after him.”

That got Valentino to laugh. He stepped through the door, shrugging the black-and-red corset the rest of the way against his chest. “I really need to spend some time making things clear to those idiots.” He said, strutting to the bed, showing off his very high boots, the tops of which almost reached to the red thong he wore. He turned once he was in front of Angel. “Lace me up.”

Angel stood and gripped the laces in each hand. “You’ve been sayin’ ya need to teach them a lesson for almost three years.” He muttered.

Valentino’s head turned to look at Angel over his shoulder, his eyes narrow.

Angel froze.

“I’m an Overlord, Angel. I got lots of sh*t to do.”

Angel swallowed before smiling. “Right. A’ course ya do. Sorry, Valentino.”

Valentino stared for a bit longer before grinning and facing forward again. His cigarette holder came up and he took a drag. “That hotel’s bad for your memory too.” Valentino said. “You forgot how stuff works around here.”

“Aheh.” Angel said as he finished up the laces. “Yeah.” he said, his voice quiet. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Valentino hummed. “Tighter. Show Daddy how tough you are.”

Angel grabbed the laces, two hands each, and tugged.

Valentino gasped. “Ahn! That’s more like it.” He said and stood up. With a shrug, his wings were a coat again. He straightened everything out as he moved back into the main room. “Syrup!”

“I’m drying! I’ll be right out.” Syrup shouted back.

Valentino rolled his eyes and pushed his way into the bathroom.

“Hey!” Syrup squeaked before Valentino carried him out under, his white fur a mixed patchwork of puffy and matted.

Valentino set him down next to Angel. “Kitty!”

The robot pushed a bundle of clothes into Syrup’s and Angel’s hands. They took a moment to hand off articles the metal imp had gotten confused with before they started to dress.

“Let’s go already.” Valentino said with a grin. “I’m f*cking ravenous.”

Alastor walked through the dark halls, footsteps ringing out on the tile before his shoes were swallowed by a heavy carpet as he made a turn. Libraries were a rarity in Pentagram City, but there was no shortage of private collectors whose doors remained open to sinners of a certain standing.

Alastor was certainly one of those.

Zestial was certainly another.

The tall sinner straightened up from over the book in a stand he had been rifling through. “Mister Alastor.” He said evenly. “What happenstance that we again meet so soon.”

“Indeed.” Alastor said as he strode along the shelves. He found a likely book and snapped it open. It was never a bad idea to brush up on anatomy.

Zestial watched him carefully for a moment. “Rumor be that you hath sent Young Fibonacci into a state most furied.”

Alastor hummed before looking away from the book. “Who?”

Zestial’s smile grew a fraction. A playful Alastor was always an exercise. “The youngest demon who the seat of Overlord holds. So-called ‘The Baron Of The Take’.” Zestial watched Alastor’s unknowing roll of his eyes, like a man desperately rummaging through a junk drawer for a tool he knew he saw in there just the other day. “He with the very loud laugh.”

“Oh!” Alastor said, waving a hand and closing his eyes with a smile. “Him!” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine how I could have offended him so. We’ve only shared a single conversation.”

“A conversation that had him swearing a vengeful oath unending against you, I heartell.”

“Well, lucky for me,” Alastor said, “That I think it would be high comedy if Syrup were to kill him.”

Zestial didn’t respond to that right away. Fibonacci had guile in vast quantities, but he had yet to learn an important lesson which was that the act of rumor-collection was rumor-worthy on its own. Everyone with sufficient eyes on him knew that he had an obsession with Alastor’s new friend.

Alas, so few still thought it prudent to keep those eyes on Fibonacci. He was only an upstart, they all thought.

Zestial wondered what sort of damage Fibonacci could cause for him to affirm himself as someone to take seriously.

“To have earned such expectations high from you, most fortunate your new friend must be.” Zestial said before picking up the book he was reading and walking it back to an empty space on the shelves. “Wonder I if he would agree.”

Alastor closed his eyes and adjust his monocle. “As it happens, I wished to speak to you about that.” Alastor said before snapping the book closed and turning to face Zestial, his grin wide. “I would request that you refrain from harassing my young associate further.”

Zestial narrowed his eyes. “A statement thus, awareness full you possess, only inflames mine curiosity about Young Syrup.”

Alastor stared at him before closing his eyes and shrugging. “If you must know, old boy, I am manipulating him to be totally devoted to me and whatever nefarious plots I may want to throw him into.”

Zestial narrowed his eyes. When The Radio Demon was so blunt, the best thing was to ignore it. for it was almost certainly a lie.. But then what? He wasn’t manipulating the diminutive sinner? He actually cared for the mouse? That would be-

That would be…

Incredibly dangerous to tamper with.

Zestial relaxed. A polite request was a polite request. The whys would be illuminated in time. He gave a little nod. “Very well, Alastor. Far be it from me to interfere with your… Work.”

An impolite Alastor was the least desired thing in Hell, after all.

The limo pulled up a distance away from the Hazbin Hotel and came to a stop, like it refused to get any closer. Syrup and Angel stepped out, each carrying a laden shopping bag. The door closed behind then but the window rolled down. Valentino smiled at them from the gloom. “You boys have fun today?”

“Yes Mister Valentino.” They both said, smiles wide.

“Good.” Valentino said and grinned. “Because Extermination Day is creeping up. You know what that means.”

Their expressions fell.

“What?” Syrup whined.

“Val, come on!” Angel said. “We already did this sh*t this year.”
Valentino’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t raise your voice at me, Angel.” He said, reaching a hand out to cup Angel’s cheek. “It’s the freaks out there who get randy every time they realize they’re getting close to dying again. We gotta keep them satisfied, don’t we?”

Angel sagged. “Yes, Mister Valentino.”

“Sugar?”

Syrup sighed and averted his gaze. “Yes, Mister Valentino.”

“Good.” Valentino said, leaning back. “You’re going to be needed in the studio a lot over the next few weeks, and I don’t want to hear any bitching.” He chuckled. “I don’t know what it is. Every pervert in this city must have a snuff fetish deep down.” He said and chuckled again. Then he glared out the window. “Boys?”

“Yes, Mister Valentino.” They both said at once without much feeling.

“That’s more like it.” Valentino purred and turned to face forward. “Now, tell me who ya love.”

“Love you, Valentino.” They chorused, emotion dredged out of them out of habit at the line.

“I know you do, boys.” Valentino said as the window rolled up. “But I love to hear you say it.”

The limo sped off and they watched it go.

“Man.” Angel said, a hand on his hip. “Can’t even help himself for one day, huh?”

“Guess this is why they say not to f*ck your boss.” Syrup said and turned to the hotel. “C’mon, I need a drink.”

Angel smirked as he followed. “We were f*ckin’ him before he was our boss.”

“What?” Syrup asked with a smile. “Ya sayin’ it’s our fault?”

“Neither of us are here cos we make good decisions.” Angel said. Syrup snickered as he threw open the front door. “Only fun ones.” Angel added before taking a deep breath. “What’s up bitches!?” He shouted as he strode in.

Charlie looked up from where she had crouched almost low enough to be eye-level with Niffty. “Oh! You two are back.” She said as she stood up, trying to smooth down her hair from where the stress of interacting with the Hotel’s maid had caused a few strands to fray. “I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

“We gotta dump some sh*t back at our room.” Angel said. “After that, maybe we’ll go out on the town. How much longer we got?”

“Uh, well.” Charlie said, eyeing their bags. “I guess… a total twelve hours is the only way to keep it fair. A ‘day’, you know. I let you guys go at ten in the morning so, uh…” She lifted a finger to point at the bags. “There’s not drugs in those, right?”

“Oh nah.” Angel said. “just clothes.”

Charlie relaxed. “Okay.”

“And a couple guns.”

“Oh… kay.” Charlie said, her voice only a little strained. Guns on their own weren’t a problem exactly.

“What kind?” Vaggie asked suspiciously from the bar, a glass clutched in her hand in case she needed to throw something.

Angel reached into his bag and pulled out a snubnose revolver, gunmetal pink with an ivory grip.

“Oh.” Charlie said and her expression softened. “Okay that’s… pretty cute, actually.”

“Ain’t it?” Angel asked. He lifted the gun up to nuzzle his cheek against it, another hand stroking it lovingly. “My boss got it for me.”

Husk’s brows jumped up. He looked at Angel. “What?” He asked, the question dragged out.

Angel shrugged casually. “It was an apology gift.”

Husk let out a heavy sigh. “Oh boy.” He muttered, recognizing, for the first time, the full breadth of that situation.

Vaggie knew better than Charlie, though, and was keeping her eye on Syrup and how he was working to avoid both her and Charlie’s gaze. “Did Syrup get a gun?” She asked.

The mouse rolled his eyes and reached into his bag. He pulled out a large, long, black, boxy weapon.

“What is that?!” Charlie asked, eyes full of fear.

“An AA-12!” Syrup said excitedly, his eyes wide and manic as he looked along the weapon. He dropped his bag. “C’mon, I’ve wanted one for years! Look at it!” He reached up and pulled back the charging handle. A shell bounced out of it and along the floor before the slide flew back into place with a meaty, metallic ‘clack’. Syrup giggled at length as Angel watched him with lidded eyes.

Vaggie’s eye went wide. “It’s loaded?!”

“What? No!” Syrup said and then looked at the drum magazine slotted into the bottom of the gun. “Oh. Yes.” He corrected.

“Unload it.” Vaggie said, her eye narrow. “Now.”

Syrup rolled his eyes and hit a switch under the trigger. Charlie flinched as the magazine hit the floor with a dull thud.

Syrup giggle as he leaned down to grab the magazine, squeaking as Angel sent a hand to grab his ass. They managed to keep it at that thanks to Charlie’s worried glance and Vaggie’s angry one. They stowed their goodies in their room, gave attention to Fat Nuggets, gave attention to each other, and went down to the lobby again just as Alastor entered through the front door.

“Ah! Syrup. Outstanding timing.” Alastor said before carefully scanning the lobby. “Where have Charlie and Vaggie gone?”

“They went looking for Niffty.” Husk said from behind the bar. “Charlie wound her up and she ran off.”

“Oh well!” Alastor said and strode toward Syrup before holding out the box. “Here, darling. I was out and I thought you’d appreciate this.”

Syrup popped open the box. His brows jumped up and he held up the long strip of black and red cloth. “Is this a bow tie?” He asked with a smirk as Angel put both hands to his cheeks at the image of Syrup wearing the apparel (and nothing else) flooded his head.

Alastor smiled smugly as he adjusted his own neckwear. “I thought it might suit you better than the standard little tie that came with your suit.”

“Oooh. Good call, Smiles.” Angel said. “I keep tryin’ to get Syrup to wear a suit more.”

“A suit?” Alastor asked, looking sidelong at Angel. “Or whatever you call what you’re wearing?”

Angel gave him a smirk. “This, yeah.” He said, using all four hands to point to various bits of his attire. The bits that highlighted his assets, specifically. Hips, chest, neck, legs.

Alastor rolled his eyes and looked back to Syrup. “Speaking of, Darling.” He said, leaning down to the mouse. “Since we’re both free, how about you and I adjourn for dinner?” Then he leaned closer still and let his eyes lid. “And afterwards… I think I have a promise to keep.”

Syrup’s eyes went wide and his cheeks went red. “I’ll go get my suit.” He said and dashed back to his room.

Alastor chuckled as he straightened up. His eyes went to the side to see Angel staring at him, his eyes wide, his mouth small.

“Can I help you?” Alastor asked as he walked past to the lobby’s lounge.

“Yeah, actually I think ya can, Smiles.” Angel said as he followed. “Ya see, me and Syrup’s anniversary is coming up, and I’ve been tryin’ ta think up somethin’ to get him.”

Alastor sat on the couch and lifted up a newspaper from the coffee table. He unfolded it and started to read silently.

Angel hopped onto the couch too and reclined. Sideways. His ass positioned strategically at Alastor’s lap, just in case he got over whatever was apparently blinding him. “I figure there’s probably not anyone in this city who knows him better than you do.” He said with a shrug as his hands went behind his head, trying hard to seem casual. “So, if you wanted to give him somethin’… y’know…” He said, blushing and averting his eyes from The Radio Demon. “Somethin’ to… really show off, what would ya get him?”

“Someone he hates tied to a chair.” Alastor said, casually and without hesitation.

Angel huffed. “Nah, I got ‘im that last year.” He said, picking at the fingernails of one hand.

There was silence as Alastor’s estimation of Angel went up a couple notches. Then he let the corner of the paper fall to grin at Angel, his eyes narrow.

Angel looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. “What?” He asked.

His eyes closed smugly, Alastor carefully folded the newspaper again and set it on the coffee table. Then a hand went to Angel’s side, gripping gently.

Angel’s eyes went wide and a smile grew across his lips. “Oh? About time ya saw what was in front of ya.” He said before giggling as Alastor gave his middle a little squeeze.

“You want to give Syrup something… intimate?” Alastor asked, leaning over Angel.

“Yeah!” Angel said before giving a breathy gasp as Alastor suddenly straddled the spider’s hips. “Damn, Smiles. Where’s this comin’ from?” He asked with a wide smile. There wasn’t ever any doubt that Angel would get through to Alastor eventually, but the sudden turn around was a pleasant surprise.

“Something… special?” Alastor asked, dragging a finger under Angel’s chin. “Something nobody else can give him?”

“Yeah, exactly!” Angel said. “And if this is just you tryin’ to wind me up, I’m gonna trash your room.”

“Not at all.” Alastor purred, his face close to Angel’s, his eyes glowing. “I understand, after all. You came to me because you want to appeal to Syrup’s more… intimate interests. The sort he doesn’t share with just anyone. And who knows how to do that better than I?” Alastor asked. “Besides, perhaps, you, of course. We both know about his inclinations and preferences. Alas, he already has knives and blades, and explosives are a dime a dozen, aren’t they?” His brow furrowed and his eyes rolled around his head in a display of despair.

But Angel didn’t seem to be paying attention. His eyes were wide and his smile was gone. He suddenly sat up, pushing Alastor back with a hand on each of the Radio Demon’s shoulders. “You’re f*ckin’ genius, Smiles.” He said with a wide grin. Then he kissed Alastor’s cheek before standing up and pulling out his phone. He put it to his head as he walked away, not wanting to risk Syrup overhearing him.

Alastor watched him go. He leaned back on the couch as the spider went out of eyesight. “Drat.”

It was a matter of a few minutes before Angel returned, followed shortly by Syrup. Angel moved quickly. Syrup barely had time to walk into the lobby before Angel rushed over and kissed him heavily. Syrup pushed him away, giggling. “What?” He asked.

“Are ya jokin’? Lookit that suit! Ugh, it looks perfect on you.” Angel said, running a hand up Syrup’s cheek.

“Thank Alastor.” Syrup said, as The Radio Demon stood up with a proud little smile.

“I wanna, but he won’t let me.” Angel said, suddenly pouting. “Hey, when are you two gonna invite me along anyways?”

Syrup blinked. “What?”

“A capital idea!” Alastor said.

Syrup turned to him. “Is it?” He asked in a mild panic.

“Relax, Firebug.” Angel said, a hand on his shoulder. “I know what ‘dinner’ means for you two.” He said with a smirk. “I’ll just go for the vegetarian option.”
Syrup sighed and looked down in a way that made Angel’s expression soften. “Angel, I… dunno.”

“Hey, c’mon.” Angel said, kneeling in front of Syrup. “Ya gonna keep me from seein’ ya get all bloody and violent?”

Syrup giggled. “Of course not.”

“That’s settled then.” Angel said, standing up and primping his hair. He turned to Alastor. “Where we headin’, Smiles?”

Alastor grinned at Angel for a moment. “Just a little place I know run by an old friend.”

They didn’t get far from the Hotel before Syrup’s ears went low and he clicked his tongue. “Alastor, I’ve been down here for three years now.”

“Yes?” Alastor said slowly.

“So I know where Cannibal Town is and what routes lead there.”

“Cannibal Town?” Angel asked with a smirk.

Syrup groaned. “Don’t even get me started on Cannibal Town, Pushki.”

“What? I woulda guessed you’d be a huge hit there, Nitro.” Angel said with a smirk.

Syrup huffed.

“Darling,” Alastor said gently, “It’s just a little light dinner with a friend who, if I can be frank, it would do you immense good to meet.”

“I’m not going there!” Syrup said with force. “I can’t stand those… скучные засранцы!”

Alastor sighed. “Is this about how the gossip-mongers among their number are often so uncharitable toward you?”

“I can handle them.” Syrup said, licking his teeth in a way that made Angel blush. “What I can’t handle is the… atmosphere of that place. It’s… gross.”

Alastor sighed as he let his gaze slide over Angel’s features. He felt he was making progress with Syrup on this point, but the look Angel was giving him was saying that today was not the day to try and press.

“Very well.” The Radio Demon said with a roll of his eyes, his tone one of good-natured disappointment. He made a sudden turn down a street and strode on with Angel and Syrup trailing behind him.

The internal map of the city Alastor kept in his head was unparalleled so, of course, he knew the Vees’ tower was along this route. He meant for it only to be a little appetizer. A bit of flouting was as good as exercise. But Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he saw the throng of people in the distance clogging the street and as he heard the music clogging the air. As he saw the giant monitors hanging from the tower, showing off Vandal’s excited face.

Angel and Syrup groaned.

“Great.” Syrup said. “Vandal’s putting on another show.”

Alastor cast his gaze upward. The crowd was one massive press of bodies that filled every inch of asphalt that surrounded the tower. On top of the building was a stage, half-hanging over the edge, supported by nothing but air. Alastor adjusted his monocle to see the weaselly victim of Syrup’s in front of a microphone. Two lean imps with large, jagged horns were at her flanks, one at a drum kit and the other with a bass guitar.

Vandal herself held a guitar, red and pointy. She shouted joyfully into the microphone and the crowd roared in response. Her actual words were a little hard to discern, but it was hardly like they mattered.

Alastor turned his head to look at Syrup. He grinned as he saw the mouse was staring up at Vandal. There was an expression that wouldn’t need a press, just a push, barely a nudge, really.

The lad needed a chance to stretch.

“What do we say,” Alastor said slowly, “To a minor change in plans?”

Angel smirked as as Syrup started to bounce in place. “Y’know Vandal always tries to end sh*t in a riot.” Angel said to Alastor with a hand on his hips.

“Well,” Alastor said, “No harm in skipping to the end just this once, is there?”

Vandal looked down from her perch, glutting herself on the attention and admiration of the crowd of sinners beneath. She felt it fueling her, filling her from the inside until she felt like the street surrounding the tower: bulging and struggling with the throng that filled it.

It was one of only two drugs Vandal gave a sh*t about.

Then her eyes fell onto a small white and red speck on the edge of the crowd and she indulged in the second as she grinned.

She took a step back and looked over her shoulder at her bandmates. “Hey girls. Change in set.” She said with that snaggle-toothed grin and wide eyes that Thrum and Crash recognized as a promise of violence. “We’re starting from the end.”

The imps grinned back. “That’s gonna piss Vox off.” Crash said from the drum kit, twirling a stick. The delighted narrow of her eyes said that this was a vote for the plan.

“Hah!” Vandal said, lifting her guitar pick high above her head. “Yeah.”

She brought the hand crashing down, sending the strings jumping and the vibrations out the speakers that were stacked up and hanging from the tower’s roof.

Vandal paused just long enough to hear the crowd cheer before spinning up into a song, heavy and driving. The crowd started to move in time with the notes as Vandal shouted into the mic. This was the first step. The rest came easy. So easy Vandal hardly realized she was doing it. Not that she cared. The music she played made sh*t happen and she loved playing her music.

On the street, someone made an unwise swing at Angel. It was ducked and countered before Angel turned to Syrup. “Where’d Smiles go?”

“Somewhere fun.” Syrup said with a grin. A hand reached out from the crowd and gripped at Syrup. He wriggled out of it and bit down on the offending arm. There was a scream.

“So what’s your plan, Firebug?” Angel asked, smirking as he watched Syrup pull against the flailing arm.

Syrup, past his teeth and the blood flowing into his mouth, felt that the word ‘plan’ was far off what he was feeling right now. His eyes were still cast up at the tower’s roof. His tail thrashed. He wasn’t even sure why he was feeling this. Vandal had felt below his concern for years now, but…

But…

There was something about this, all of this, that was making his spine tingle and his teeth itch. Because Syrup was just as susceptible to the music as everyone else around him. He relaxed his jaw and let the flailing arm flip him backwards a bit. He grinned at Angel as he caught him. “I’m gonna cut my way to the tower, climb, and burn that bitch all over again.” He said and kicked a leg. “Wanna help?”

Angel groaned and rolled his head like he had just felt Syrup touch some part of him with his tongue. “Oh, I’m gonna help and then help all night.”

Velvette was relaxing in the tower. Well, she was trying. She was watching the feed, making sure the clothes she had picked out for Vandal looked perfect. That meant she was staring at her phone as the messages rolled in. She sat up, immediately going into incandescent rage.

“Valentino!” She shouted at the top of her lungs.

“sh*t!” Valentino said from right across from her. “What?” He asked, the word a long whine as he defensively leaned away from her.

“Your f*cking pets are out there trashing the crowd!” Velvette said, clutching at her head as she looked at her phone again. “And… f*cking Alastor is down there?”

Valentino blinked at her. Then he grinned. “Really?” He asked, standing and striding to the window. “Where?”

Velvette stood too and pulled on his coat. “No you don’t! You’re going to go and distract Vox because if he sees this sh*t then he’ll throw a fit that ruins the show.” She pulled Valentino’s face down close to hers. “I am not having that!”

Valentino pushed her away as he straightened up. “Jeez, alright. Cool it, Vel.” He said as he strode to the elevator. “Honestly, you and Vox are both so high-strung. You need to take a page from Vanny’s book. Just play the hits and keep the crowd happy.”

Velvette rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Said the pimp.”

Valentino turned to face her in the elevator, chuckling. “What can I say, Vel? Some things never go out of style.” He said and blew her a kiss as the doors closed.

Alastor was carefully watching Syrup’s progress up the tower as he strode through the crowd. Angel and Syrup had cut and shot a swathe to the edifice more even than Alastor was doing now. Oh, there was the rare disemboweling or spine-extraction as someone bumped into him or took a blind swing in his direction, but his reputation mostly won out even against Vandal’s music.

Then something caught his eye. He came to a dead stop and turned his head. Standing on the edge of the crowd was a sinner that looked like a raccoon made out of cotton candy. Pink and purple stripes. And he was staring right at Alastor.

Alastor narrowed his eyes.

The raccoon’s eyes widened and swiftly made down the street, away from the terrible crowds and the worse Alastor.

Alastor laughed under his breath and turned to follow. He never ran when he chased, oh he was far far above that. Better to treat it as a slow stroll. Let the prey tire itself out, let it marinate in the fear, he thought as he turned a corner, a sinner like a scarecrow carefully passing him at a pace just below a run. Alastor would get closer and closer no matter how fast his prey fled. Death himself couldn’t compare.

Of course, Death never followed a target into an alley only to find the alley empty clear to the other side.

Alastor’s eye twitched. Then they both went wide. He turned his head. He growled through his grin. He stepped quickly back the way he came, fist clenched tight below the head of his cane. He rounded the corner again and scanned the crowd. He took a moment to growl again in the back of his throat before taking a breath to steady himself.

He straightened up and took a moment to dust off his sleeves. The prey never got clemency, only abeyance. Oh, it was staggering, how often it could be clemency, if only the prey didn’t push their luck.

He was content to wait for that moment. For now, Alastor moved to the edge of the street and found a cafe that was spared one of its tables and two of its chairs. He tossed the tail of his coat up and sat in a chair. His gaze turned up just as Syrup reached the roof and immediately pulled a roadie over and pushed him off the edge.

A body sailed out of the crowd and through the cafe’s already-shattered window. Angel followed close behind, dusting his hands off. “What a party, huh Smiles?” He asked strode over and sat in the other chair, crossing his legs.

Alastor didn’t respond, his eyes still upward. The crowd cheered as they saw the mouse in the suit rush from the wings at Vandal. A few reflexes seemed to collide and counter each other between the two of them. Vandal hopped back and swung out a foot. Syrup turned the charge into a roll with a dive, coming up with a turn to face Vandal on the other side of the stage.

The crowd cheered again. They didn’t recognize him at all, of course. They just knew they were about to watch Vandal throttle someone. That was worth the price of admission alone.

Thrum and Crash kept up the backing music as Vandal hefted up her guitar by the neck, wielding it like an ax and swinging it at Syrup like she expected it to take off his head. He jumped out of the way. And again at the next. The third got a dodge that, seen only by Alastor, left wisps of smoke in the mouse’s wake.

Alastor grinned. Good. Hardly excellent, but lasting more than three swings against an Overlord was an outstanding start.

Then Angel totally derailed Alastor’s careful observations.
“I know you’re lyin’.” He said casually.

Alastor blinked. Then he slowly turned his head to look at Angel. He was smiling smugly at him from across the table, his eyes lidded.

“Excuse me?” Alastor asked.

Angel shrugged. “I get it. Everyone thinks I’m an idiot, but you an’ me. We’re too similar, Smiles.” He said, propping his head up on his hand with his elbow on the table. “Maybe we’ve just been down here too long. We only do sh*t cos it feels good. Cos we like to do it.”

Alastor blinked and gave his head a little shake. “And since when have I been dishonest about what I like to do and how often I do it?”

Angel’s smug smirk grew and two hands come up to supply the fingerquotes around the word “‘Entertainment’.” Like a spotlight. “Sure, Smiles. A guy like you? In a city like this? Entertainment drops into your lap easy. It’s somethin’ else that’s keepin’ ya ‘round Charlie’s joint.”

Alastor’s grin grew in kind. “And do you have any guesses on why I’m lying?”

Angel shrugged. “Near I can figure, a big bad demon like you can’t let it out that you’ve got a thing for Syrup. Cute as it is.” Angel smiled again and leaned back. “Don’t worry, Smiles. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Alastor watched him for a moment before chuckling and turning his eyes upward again. “How can I ever repay you?”

Angel examined his fingernails casually, like owing a favor from the scariest demon in Hell was only expected for him. “Just keep Syrup sexy and happy.” Then he lifted a hand up to his forehead to shield his eyes as he tilted his gaze up too. “Speakin’ of, how’s he doin’?”

“Poorly.” Alastor said.

Syrup’s ax had come out far too early. When it swung through the air it hit nothing but the stage where it bit deep and stuck fast. Ever the one for rushing, even now.

Dear oh dear.

“Pffft, c’mon.” Angel said as he found Syrup amidst the lights and sound. “He’s fought this… bitch… before.” Angel said, his voice losing confidence as he saw Syrup only barely jump back from Vandal’s claws tearing through the air as the crowd cheered. The sound seemed to propel the claws faster in the opposite direction, gripping Syrup’s coat and hurling him across the stage to send him crashing against the lattice supporting the lights.

Another cheer. Alastor sighed and tapped a thumb against the back of his other hand, folded on his lap, as he shook his head while Angel winced.

“Oh, c’mon.” The spider pleaded quietly before wincing again, his teeth grit, as Syrup fell for a feint and got a sharp blow to his head for his trouble. “Aw, Firebug, c’mon. You’ve been in a fight before.” Angel said, voice thick with concern.

“I’m afraid he hasn’t.” Alastor said, standing up and adjusting his bow tie.

“What?” Angel asked, voice going to maximum offense at high speed. “Smiles, you’ve seen him tear through suckers.”

“Precisely.” Alastor said, turning a smile to the spider. “He has torn. He has surprised. He has ripped to bloody shreds. But against an opponent that could fight back? Our Syrup hasn’t yet had that chance.” He sighed again. “I hadn’t expected him to do this poorly.”

“f*ck.” Angel said, running a hand over his hair as the consequences of his actions came crashing into reality. “What’re we gonna do?”

Alastor twirled his cane to hold it behind his back, his expression one of easy confidence. “No need to worry, Mister Dust. I had anticipated this sort of thing. I’d recommend you get in position to catch him. Just in case.” Alastor said with a smile to Angel before dissolving into shadow.

Syrup had been knocked to the stage for the fourth time. The cheering was bad enough but Crash had started adding accompaniment, slamming on a cymbal as large as a dinner plate with each blow that sent him sailing.

He had made a miscalculation, he saw that now. There was no shadows around for him to rely on. Well, there were, but the lights were always flashing and swinging. None of them stayed still for any amount of time to jump to and Vandal never gave him a chance to reassess.

Vandal’s heavy, spiked boots slowly stomped toward Syrup as she laughed. “Aw, man. Did Velvette put you up to this?” She asked as she twirled her guitar through the air, the volume on it so high even the breeze brushing the strings caused a sharp hum to pour through the speakers. “This could not be more perfect!” She shouted. “Getting to finally kick your ass is one thing, but in front of a crowd? On a stage?! Man!”

“Fight isn’t over yet.” Syrup said, getting to his feet, trying to will his knees to stop shaking.

“So?” Vandal asked with her snaggletoothed grin and a co*cked eyebrow. “Dude, all I ever wanted to do was break a couple ribs, maybe concuss ya a bit.” She said and shrugged. “Seems fair, don’t it?” She asked and tilted her head. “Why’d ya kill me anyways?”

Syrup grinned and giggled at the memory, his tail whipping behind him. “It was incidental. I was hired to burn down that bar you were playing at.”

Vandal laughed uproariously. “Oh man. Oh man!” She said, a hand on her forehead. “Aw, that’s priceless!”

“You deserved it. Leaving your pyrotechnics out like that.”

Vandal laughed, a bit softer this time. “Yeah, the owner said we shouldn’t have had them anyways.” She shrugged. Then she perked up. “Oh! Hell yeah! We got some set up today. You know what I’m thinking?” She asked and turned to her imp bandmates. “Thrum, Crash. What’s that thing called? He burned me, I’ll burn him.” Then her smile froze as she saw that her imp bandmates’ faces had fallen and their arms had frozen mid-note.

“I believe,” Said a scratchy, crackling voice behind her, “The phrase you’re looking for is poetic justice.”

The crowd went wild as Vandal only spared Alastor a cool glance over her shoulder. “Take a walk, old man. Maybe I’ll be up to tango for the encore. I got better sh*t to do right now.”

Alastor was quiet for a moment, allowing Vandal another step toward Syrup. “Is all this for your producer’s approval?”

The surprise sprung out of Vox’s mouth as a laugh as she turned to Alastor again. “What? Vox? What’s he got to do with this?”

“I had assumed he had you under contract.”
“Uh, yeah. The good kind. I play music, he pays me to play music.” Vandal said turning back to Syrup again. “I don’t do that ‘sell your soul’ sh*t. That’s mine.”

Alastor cast his gaze to the side in an impish expression. “Could have fooled me.”

The stage suddenly got very quiet. Even the din of the crowd had a hard time piercing the sudden bubble of noiselessness that seemed to be pouring off Vandal.

She slowly turned, glaring at Alastor. “What did you just say?” She asked, her voice low.

“You just said you sell your music, no? What, exactly, is the difference?”

Vandal took a few heavy steps toward Alastor, hand on the guitar’s neck clenching so tight the strings started to whine. “My music is somethin’ other people should pay to hear. That’s how this sh*t works. People pay tribute!” She said, waving a hand to the crowd. “Power flows and pools where it should.” She grinned. “And, word of advice, don’t matter how old the pond is if it’s only fed by one river. Bigger lakes are fed by four.”

Oh. Alastor said in his own head as his eyes very purposefully were kept from sliding to Syrup. I know. Outside it, he rolled his eyes. “Hmm.” He said with a smug smile. “But all that flowing and tribute goes to your producer, though. Not to you. Because you-”

“Oh, I am warning you, old man!” Vandal roared.

Now Alastor made sure to catch Syrup’s eyes with his, giving him that little glance that he knew Syrup recognized. ‘Watch and learn.’ It said.

“Sold out.” Alastor finished.

Vandal launched herself at him to a loud cheer from the crowd. Vandal versus Alastor himself? What could be a better show than that? The fact that the first blow was blocked by his cane and the follow-up swipe of her claws was dodged with a casual step back didn’t matter.

Even the swift kick to Vandal’s stomach that knocked her back a foot was met with a cheer. A show was a show.

The cheering got louder as Vandal slotted her guitar back into her hands, fingers on the frets and chest panting with the fury of an interrupted exultation. Thrum and Crash recognized her grimace and wisely made a break for safety.

“Fine, asshole. Try this one.” Vandal said, then she gave a blow to the strings that sent a wall of sound barreling toward Alastor.

Alastor rolled his eyes. It showed where Vandal’s head was at, he thought with a grin as he lifted his cane in front of him, the microphone at the head buzzing gently, that she didn’t take into account the potential for feedback.

The sonic blast turned into a fiery one as the screech knocked out the lights and made speakers explode, sparks showing down on the stage and on the cheering crowd. Syrup took the opportunity of shadows engulfing him to make an exit in the quickest way possible. It’s not like he didn’t know exactly what would happen as he threw himself over the edge. He didn’t even grunt as he felt himself land in four arms.

“Nice catch, Pushki.”

“That’s right it was.” Angel said as he let his arms wrap tight around Syrup. “Ya hurt any?”

“Eh, only my pride.” Syrup said, blushing slightly. He sighed. “Боже, Alastor’s gonna be so smug about this.” He said as he watched the sparks and flashes of red explode from the stage. Little else was visible. The crowd still cheered to the sound of notes thrown from the guitar. Syrup groaned and leaned back in Angel’s arms. “I ruined the night too.”

“Nah.” Angel said as he carried Syrup to the edge of the crowd. “Smiles said to head back to the Hotel. He said he’d grab ya a doggy bag.”

Angel didn’t let Syrup ditch the suit as they got back to the Hotel. Instead he kept plucking at it as they sat at the bar.

“What?” Syrup finally asked with a smile.

“Think Smiles would stab me if we altered that suit a bit?” Angel asked. “You look killer in it, but with it lookin’ like this?” He said, moving a hand down the length of his body. “Oh, babe. You’d turn heads clear off necks.”

There was a pause. Angel’s smile softened and his eyes lidded. “Eyes up, Firebug.”

Syrup flinched. “It’s not my fault!” He whined to Angel. “You pointed right at your chest. Is it because Husk is watching?”

“I’m not.” Husk said, glaring at the glass he was polishing.

The door opened and Alastor came in, humming to himself with a joyful spring in his step and with a heavy bag in one hand.

“Ah, there you two are.” He said. “Reliably in Husk’s tender care.” He leaned forward a bit, his smile growing. “Syrup, could I see you in my room?”

Syrup sighed. “Are you gonna yell at me?”

Alastor chuckled. “Darling, on the rare occasions I have felt the need to excoriate you verbally, have I ever raised my voice?”

“Well, that one time.” Syrup said.

Alastor seemed confused for a moment before realization struck and he laughed. “Oh, yes. Well, that was an extreme circ*mstance. Regardless, no. I am not planning on yelling at you. And Mister Dust may barge in if he hears me so much as shout.” And Alastor’s eyes lidded. “But not, I hope it’s understood, if he hears you yelling.”

Angel’s eyes went wide. “Oh, ya gotta get up to his room right now, Firebug.” He said as Husk gagged.

Syrup giggled and hopped off the bar stool. He dashed up to Alastor and linked arms with The Radio Demon. They shared a smile and ascended the stairs.

Angel smiled at Syrup’s back, leaning on a hand on the bar until they disappeared from view.

Alastor had opened up the far wall of his room to give the smoke from the grill somewhere to go. Syrup had seen him do the trick before. He wondered where the swamp the grill now stood on was, exactly. It couldn’t be on earth, right? If Alastor could get to earth, he’d share. Wouldn’t he?”

Syrup winced a bit as he waited at the table. Alastor probably wouldn’t share after the show he put on at the show.

It didn’t take long for the steaks to cook. You had to leave them bloody, after all. Humming, Alastor put the heavy plates on the table before sitting. He unfolded the linen that was waiting for him and carefully tucked it into his collar.

“Uh, sorry about that… display with Vandal.” Syrup said bashfully.

Alastor only gave him a smile. “Nothing to apologize for, Darling. It was your first time dancing with an Overlord, after all. You were hardly going to be flawless on your first attempt.

Syrup looked to the side and picked up his fork and knife. “Still annoying.” He muttered as he sliced and chewed.

“You’ll improve!” Alastor said cheerfully. “You improve every day. A blind man could see it.”

Alastor kept his eyes on Syrup as he chewed. It wasn’t a particularly good cut, just some oaf from the crowd, but there was always an undeniably exquisite character of meat you sourced yourself.

“I don’t even know what I was thinking, getting up on stage with her.” Syrup said, his eyes pointed to the ceiling. “I just…”

“You wanted to!” Alastor said cheerfully. “Nothing at all wrong with that. Being aware of your wants and, yes, needs is key to expressing yourself!”

“What could I have done better?” Syrup asked. “I… I mean. I thought… I was stronger than that now.”

Alastor recognized that tone. It was the threat of regression. Now was the time to be very careful. “Darling, the power is within you, you have my word. You just need to work on learning how to properly harness it.” Alastor said, his knife gliding through the air for emphasis.

“How do I do that?” Syrup asked with a tilt of his head.

Alastor closed his eyes, grinning. He had waited for this moment. The moment where Syrup would be perfectly tuned to his advice. This was hardly the first time, of course, and each time it came, it guaranteed more to follow. “You can start, Darling, and you know I don’t repeat myself lightly, by pacing yourself.”

Syrup got quiet. That wonderfully thoughtful silence that clung to him like smoke before the fire was spotted.

So Alastor gently slotted a bite between his teeth and decided to stoke the fire. He swallowed. “Let us review, the steps. You saw an old friend and wished to catch up with them, yes?” He asked as he started to slice again. “But if you had taken just a moment to consider, you would have seen how she had herself progressed over the years. To say nothing of the fact that she was in the middle of something.”

Alastor met Syrup’s confused look with a playful smile, waiting for the shoe to drop.

Syrup’s reliably smoking head didn’t make him wait long. His ears went flat and then he groaned. “I could have dropped the lights!” He said, both hands going to cover his eyes. “Боже, я такой идиот.”

Alastor nodded sympathetically.

Syrup relaxed his posture as he stared at the meat on his plate for a moment, chasing it around the plate with his fork with a thoughtful glower. He shook his head. “An electrical fire would have spread to the tower.” He said as a smile spread across his lips.

Alastor let him sit in the silence. Syrup was an artist, after all. Someone with real passion for their work. There was no admonition he could heap on that could beat what Syrup was saying to himself now. There would be time to reign in that impulse too, of course. For now, it could be useful. Syrup had a lot to improve on, and there was so little time left.

Without conversation, both of their appetites were acted upon with gusto that would instill fear and nausea in anyone in Hell with a less refined palette.

When their plates were clean, Alastor stood up and held out a hand toward Syrup, the other behind his back. “Now, I believe I have a promise to fulfill.”

Syrup blushed but took the hand. “Alastor, that really isn’t necessary.” He said as Alastor gently pulled him up and then across the main room to a door off on a side wall.

There was a bedroom beyond, large and stately. There was a fireplace, a fire already roaring within, and the bed looked nothing short of decadent. Alastor gently pushed Syrup to sit on the edge of the mattress and rubbed between his ears as he strode across the room to the fireplace. He picked up the poker and gave the burning logs a few hearty jabs.

He turned, twirling the poker until he could rest it in the palm of his free hand. “Shall we begin?” He asked with a smile.

Syrup blushed further. It had been a while since he blushed on another’s bed. “Alastor look, you don’t need to do this.”

Alastor twirled the poker again before setting it back in its holder on the hearth. “I don’t do what I do because I ‘need’ to.” He said as he stepped toward Syrup. “Besides, how many times have you met me on my side of the gently babbling brook of intimacy? It’s high time I returned the favor.”

“Alastor,” Syrup said, looking to the side. “Don’t say it like it’s an ordeal on my account. I-” He was cut short by Alastor’s hand under his chin, pointing his face to his. Syrup cleared his throat. “I have fun with our, aheh, outings. More than fun, even.”

“The point remains.” Alastor said. “Besides, I think this will be completely enjoyable.”

“Yeah?” Syrup asked, an eyebrow raised. “You always seemed… dismissive of… physicality.”

“There’s exceptions to every rule, Darling.” Alastor said as the hand under Syrup’s chin dragged lower, down his throat, until it reached his bow tie. Pinching the fabric between two fingers, Alastor undid the mouse’s neckwear. “You think I won’t have fun teasing you relentlessly?” He asked, leaning over Syrup.

Syrup leaned back, keeping Alastor in his vision with a giggle. “I… I gotta say I’m a little surprised to hear that you could.” He said before gasping as he felt Alastor’s hand at his stomach.

“Is that so surprising?” Alastor asked, leaning over Syrup until the mouse was entirely laid back on the bed. His hand tossed aside the bow tie before going up to start to undo his own. “I’ve been around a while, Darling. You’re hardly the first dalliance with the physical I’ve had. I believe in sampling a meal before deciding my disposition on it, after all.” He said before tossing the strip of cloth away.

Syrup watched, entranced, as Alastor’s hand went to open his coat and then start to unbutton his shirt. Then Syrup was suddenly flipped onto his front by Alastor’s other hand.

“H-Hey!” He squeaked.

“You know what I believe will assist you in learning to pace yourself?” Alastor asked. “I think you need an opportunity to truly relax.” Alastor said and Syrup felt him lean over until Alastor’s hot breath was on his ear. “You’re so wound up, you spring out at the first opportunity. Allow me to ease the tension.” He said as he gently gripped Syrup’s coat and pulled it off the mouse from behind.

“Alastor, I don’t-” Syrup said before stopping with a squeak as Alastor’s hands went around his front to gently tug open the buttons his shirt. Once his chest was bare, Alastor’s hands slid through the white fur until they found his shoulders and squeezed. Syrup gasped at the pressure he could exert. “Oho, Alastor.” He crooned, his toil coiling as he melted on the bed.

“I hope you didn’t charge at Miss Vandal just to impress me.” Alastor purred.

“No. Of course not.” Syrup said before grunting at another squeeze. “I mean, I don’t think so.”

“Good.” Alastor said. “Because I am even more impressed when you out-think your adversaries. Decimating them before they even know what is happening to them.”

“Burning them?” Syrup asked, his voice low.

“Exactly.” Alastor answered, dragging the word out.

Syrup suddenly gave a squeak as his belt popped open and was yanked off him without Alastor’s hands leaving his shoulders. He turned his head to check how that happened but got instantly distracted by the sudden sight of Alastor’s bare chest. He was only allowed that view an instant before his head was turned forward.

“Ah ah ah!” Alastor said. “Don’t focus on me. Just relax, Darling.”

Syrup found his body listening to Alastor before he was finished processing the words. His muscles released their tension and he only giggled as he felt his pants get yanked off his legs. Then he gave a long hum as he felt Alastor’s hands drag down his back.

“Goodness.” Alastor said softly. “Such tension. Darling, you’ll never win a fight with your body in this state.” He said, his voice laden with more concern than Syrup had heard from him yet. “Please allow me to recommend a masseur. You need it dearly.”

“So long as it’s not Rosie.” Syrup said with a groan.

Alastor gave a soft sigh and rolled his eyes, but that was a difficulty for another time. “No, Darling.”

“Deal.”

“Fantastic!” Alastor said, his voice chipper and bright. Then it dropped like a stone in the ocean, falling to the dark abyss. “Now… let’s see.” He purred. Syrup heard a drawer open and close, which was strange because he was sure Alastor didn’t move from behind him. Then the mouse gasped as he felt something slick spill under his tail.

“There.” Alastor said and his hands wrapped around Syrup, one going to his stomach as the other wrapped around his throat. He chuckled into Syrup’s ear. “Oh, that heartbeat. Delicious.” He said as he pressed his chest flush against Syrup’s back.

Then it was little more than an expert shift of Alastor’s hips before he slid into Syrup more smoothly than Syrup had felt from anyone. Except maybe Angel. It was a treat either way. Below the vest, Alastor seemed surprisingly human, as far as Syrup could tell going by touch alone. Granted, Syrup wasn’t sure what he had been expecting on that account. What he had been expecting was that Alastor knew exactly how to move and how much and how fast. Syrup was brought to steady moans and pants very swiftly.

That’s when Alastor grinned, and the grip he had on Syrup grew tight. The mouse gasped as the hand at his neck gripped, claws digging into the flesh there as he was hoisted upward. He was leaning back on Alastor’s chest as his thrusts suddenly got far quicker and firmer.

Syrup’s eyes rolled back, his mouth open to let out all the wonderfully plaintive little noises. So overwhelmed by all the other sensations assaulting his body, Syrup missed the hand at his throat moving upward until he felt Alastor’s fingers slide over his lips and against his teeth. The mouse shivered and groaned as he felt those fingers tug his lips wide. His eyes closed as the odd examination Alastor was subjecting his mouth to multiplied the bliss rocketing up his spine.

“Such teeth.” Alastor said, his voice breathy as his hips worked. Syrup’s hands went to rest at Alastor’s wrists as he let out a whine. “Such sounds.” He laughed. “As always, you’re proving me entirely correct.”

Syrup didn’t know entirely what to say about that. He shivered and gasped and his vocal chords supplied the answer on their own. “Alastor.” He gasped past the digits.

It was like the sound flipped a switch in Alastor. His hands shifted, one grabbed Syrup’s wrist and yanked it out for better sawing leverage into the mouse. The other hand gripped around Syrup’s throat. Tight.

“Louder.” Alastor growled into Syrup’s ear.

The reverberations that sent bouncing around Syrup’s skull was enough to prompt another moan. His vocal chords, operation on instincts that recognized the growl as something to fear, turned the moan into another long, low, “Alastor.”

“Louder.” Alastor said, voice crackling. It wasn’t just announcing the next program, it was dictating it.

Those vibrations found purchase in Syrup’s more rational brain, whatever was left of it. Alastor was making a request, and he was hardly one to turn down a request from Alastor. The next moan was a long scream of bliss, twisted into Alastor’s name as his body locked down with his climax.

Alastor, a creature of timing, coaxed Syrup to and along his org*sm perfectly. He would never be called a neglectful dancer partner, after all. Timing and synchronicity were a part of any dance, and everything was a dance.

Syrup wasn’t a bad dance partner, all things considered, and he only got better. Alastor gently set him back down on the bed, gently joining him. Intimacy was novel to Alastor in many ways, but with a trusted body pressed against his, he could certainly understand the appeal.

Alastor brought a hand up to gently pet Syrup between his ears, grinning.

If you didn’t enjoy the dance, what was the point in dancing?

Fibonacci was not one to be satisfied. Le Bon Temps had started as a little gambling establishment, but he wasn’t going to stop until every sin one could want to commit could be committed under his roof.

For a modest fee.

Thus, The Bilge. Fibonacci knew what sinners expected. If they wanted to participated in a fight club, they wanted it held somewhere dingy, damp, and dark. The Bilge was little more than a large cage in the bowels of the boat. There were stands around it and, above the stands, private boxes for those demons who merely wanted to watch bloodsports and not participate in them.

Fibonacci’s private box was, of course, the largest and best-placed. A table with a full catering spread was off to one side as Fibonacci sat in a large, comfy chair, watching. He chuckled softly at the display in between puffs of his cigar. Oh, the ultraviolence was good for a laugh, but every now and then Fibonacci reminded himself that these people paid him for the privilege.

The door swung opened and Bubble came through it, backwards. Velvette was right in front of him, haranguing him as she stepped forward, forcing the raccoon back.

“And I know your boss better than you do, so get out of my way before I get your ass fired.” She said before pushing past him.

“Vel, darling.” Fibonacci said, turning his head only enough to get the designer in his view. “How did Vandal’s show go?”

“f*cking Alastor showed up and thrashed her in front of a crowd of seventy thousand. She thinks it couldn’t have gone better.”

“Hm.” Fibonacci said before turning to face forward again. “Well you have outstanding timing. The bookers have just thrown in a chainsaw.” He said, gesturing toward the large window that took up one wall.

There was the sound of a small engine and then screaming.

Fibonacci chuckled softly. “They always go right for the chainsaw and it never works out for them.”

Velvette sighed. “This is what you’re doing? Really? Sulking in the dark and watching this silly slapstick bullsh*t?”

Fibonacci’s smile fell and he turned back to the glass. “I ran out of ice cream.” He said.

Velvette rolled her eyes. By chance they landed on the catering table. The ice cream on the catering table. The melted ice cream on the catering table.

She sighed. She was terrible at this sort of thing, and possessed enough self-awareness to know it was grossly out of her character, but Fibonacci was a friend. He was vindictive, sure, and greedy. And petty, smug, vain, cruel, haughty, greedy again, wasteful, and impulsive.

The very best kind of friend, in fact.

“How much longer are you going to keep this up?” She asked, looking back to him.

“Valentino could apologize.”

Velvette stood next to the chair, glaring at Fibonacci. “You’re the one who lied to him. Over a little dork like Syrup, too.”

Velvette’s eyes went wide at the look Fibonacci gave her. “Steady, darling.”

The modiste pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fibonacci, please don’t wreck a good thing.”

Fibonacci laughed. “Darling, who do you think you’re talking to?” Fibonacci asked as he tapped his cigar over a nearby ashtray. “A delightful giftbasket is already along to Valentino. With drinks, decadent sweets, and a gold-plated handgun.” He gave Velvette a wide smile. “What do you take me for? I adore being the bigger man.” He shrugged. “Besides, how can I give Syrup my best if I were to let my resources dry up?”

Velvette stared at him for a moment, arms crossed. She shook her head. “This is going to be a whole thing for you, isn’t it?” She asked, smiling despite herself.

“Oh god, you have no idea, darling.” Fibonacci said and pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m going to make such a scene. Lucifer himself is going to kneel to my Queendom of utter drama.” He said joyfully.

Velvette’s smile grew. “You’re lucky your drama is so amusing.” She said.

Fibonacci stood up suddenly. “I know!” He said, feeling better already.

Velvette rolled her eyes. “Look. I think it’s stupid, but I still hate seeing you like this. And I know what cheers you up.” She said.

“Spending exorbitant amounts of money?” Fibonacci asked.

“Want to come down to my studio for a fitting?” Velvette asked. “I’ve got an idea for your coat.” She grinned. “And your hat.”

Fibonacci gave a gasp of sheer delight. “Oh, absolutely, darling!” He shouted. “Ugh, you’re such a good friend.”

“I’m your best friend.” Velvette said, rolling her eyes as she turned toward the door.

Valentino’s bedroom was scattered with bits of clothing, like he had Vox had exploded out of their clothes. From the way Vox was leaning into Valentino’s arm, he was still recovering.

“Ohhh, man.” Vox said. “Thanks for that, Val. I… didn’t realize how bad I needed it.”

“Any time, Vox baby.” Valentino purred, an arm around Vox. “I can tell how stressed you get.”

“You’re always saying I’m too stressed.” Vox said, reaching for his jacket at the foot of the bed where he was only just now hearing his phone buzzing. “You don’t f*ck me about it.”

“Well,” Valentino said, leaning back. “I needed to distract you.”

“What?” Vox asked with a laugh, looking at Valentino with a skeptical expression. “From what?” He asked, digging out his phone from his pocket.

“Alastor and Syrup were crashing Vandal’s show.” Valentino said.

Vox rounded on him, a hand going up to grip Valentino’s antennae. “They what!?” He screamed, pulling upward.

Valentino groaned and arched his back. “Oho, that’s it. Come to Daddy.” He purred before Vox tackled him.

Everything was back where it should be at the Hazbin Hotel. Angel was laying back on the couch, phone held above his face. Syrup was resting on his chest, eyes closed. He looked almost asleep, but happily so.

Alastor sat in a chair, eyes closed.

The missing piece came in with Charlie, dashing in with Niffy tucked under an arm like an unruly dog. Vaggie followed behind at a far more subdued pace.

“Okay! Ten o’clock.” She said and scanned the lounge. “D-Day off over!” She said, panting with a wide smile. The smile fell. “Where’s Pentious?”

There was an explosion that pulled all eyes up to the ceiling just as Pentious came rocketing through it at an angle, covered in soot.

“Ow!” He said as he straightened up. “f*ck.”

Charlie gasped. “Penny! Who taught you to swear?”

“What?” Pentious asked, turning on her in utter confusion.

“Babe,” Vaggie said softly. “We swear in front of him all the time. How the f*ck were we supposed to know we weren’t supposed to? He’s basically an adult.”

“I’ve known how to swear this whole time!” Pentious said, his screeching voice a mix of confusion and offense. It subdued as he looked around nervously. “I… thought it was ‘cool’ here.”

“Who told you that?” Charlie asked, looking at Vaggie with a knit brow.

“Don’t be angry with Miss Vaggie.” Pentious said. “It’s mostly Angel and Syrup.”

The two instantly sat up.

“Oh, of course you’re a f*ckin’ tattle-tale.” Angel said, jabbing an angry finger in Pentious’s direction.

“I don’t hear you saying ‘Сука’ much.” Syrup said and his eyes narrowed. “Сука”

“They say everything!” Pentious said, voice going to malicious, snitchy glee. “f*ck, sh*t, ass, bitch, damn, crap-”

“Okay!” Charlie said, leaning toward Pentious with her hands out. “Okay. Ahah.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “How about you come on over and tell us what you did with your day off?” She said, walking with him to the lounge.

Pentious’s expression brightened. “Oh, I got so much work done!” He said happily. “More than I’ve gotten done in years, in fact.”

Charlie’s expression fell a bit. “How much of it was on weapons?”

“Not even all of it!” Pentious said proudly. “I had to fix the egg bois.” His expression fell. “Syrup’s been sticking sharp things into them.”

Syrup giggled at the concerned look Charlie gave him. “Oh, yeah. They don’t even notice if you do it right.”

Alastor chuckled too. Charlie tried to ignore him as she turned to Angel and Syrup. “What about you two?”

“Oh, y’know.” Angel said, leaning on the couch’s armrest. “Coupla drinks. Some drugs. Went out for lunch. Bitta light whorin’.”

“Any… violence?” Charlie asked.

Angel and Syrup exchanged a glance with carefully blank expressions. They looked back to Charlie and her eager, supportive, if worried, face.

“I mean…” Syrup said slowly, not meeting her gaze. “Not against anyone… who didn’t start it?”

They watched Charlie for a second. She seemed to be waiting for something.

Charlie took a breath and turned to the bar. “Husk?”

Husk sat up suddenly. “Huh, what?”

“What about you?” She asked with a smile that was just a little too wide. “What did you do today?”

“Oh. Uh.” Husk looked down in thought. “Drank. Gambled.” He shrugged. “Fibonacci tried to bribe me for dirt on Syrup?”

“What?!” Sir Pentious shouted. “What am I, chopped liver?” He asked, hands to his chest.

“Chopping will be the least of your liver’s problems if you try to pull that spy sh*t again.” Syrup said with a growl.

Pentious didn’t appear to hear him. “I was right there! He didn’t think to offer as I was attacking him?”

“You what!?” Charlie shouted, her tone enough to make everyone’s eyes go wide and look at her.

“I-I mean… just a little.” Pentious said with a nervous smile, holding up a thumb and forefinger to indicate the utterly minuscule nature of the attack.

Charlie groaned at length and tugged at her hair with both hands.

“Okay.” Vaggie said, standing and stepping toward her. “Okay, deep breath. You said yourself that this wasn’t going to be easy.” She said gently.

The guests exchanged a glance as Charlie took a deep breath.

“Right, ahaha.” Charlie said, her voice brittle as her gaze turned to the clock on the mantle. “W-We just have… a bit more work to do. That’s no problem. No problem at all.” She said as she rubbed at her throat like she could feel time’s inexorable garrote tighten with each passing second. “We… still have time.”