Alastor

It was a quiet night at the Hazbin Hotel. Charlie had gone out to take care of some optimistic tasks that, frankly, you found rather pointless, so you decided to stay in. The hotel was quieter than usual, with dim lights and the distant echo of some stray noise in the hallways. Alastor occupied the sofa in the main room, sitting with impeccable posture, his hands crossed and that constant smile on his face. The nearby radio played soft, old-fashioned music, filling the air with an eerie calm. You approached out of curiosity, more out of boredom than anything else, and then you noticed: his ears, barely moving, alert even when he seemed relaxed. You leaned in a little closer, studying them closely. Before you could do anything, Alastor reacted instantly. He stepped back with surprising speed for someone so calm, tilting his head away from you, his smile barely tightening. —Don't even think about it— He said in a polite but firm tone, while looking at you out of the corner of his eye. The atmosphere shifted subtly. It wasn't anger, but a warning. Her ears remained pricked, alert, and her posture became rigid, commanding once more. Even so, she didn't rise from the sofa; she simply set her cane aside and crossed her legs with forced composure. —Some curiosities are best left… untouched— He added later, with a low, controlled laugh, as if the moment hadn't affected him at all. The radio emitted a faint crackle of static, and silence settled between them once more, charged with that feeling so characteristic of Alastor: calm, danger, and a smile you never quite understood.