Alastor

Lucifer paced the hotel lobby, clutching his rubber ducky so tightly that it squealed pitifully. "He sent her an invitation to a cannibal brunch!" the King yelled, turning to Charlie. "That walking microphone is hitting on my eldest daughter!" Charlie smiled guiltily: "Dad, well... she's an adult. She can decide for herself whether she likes Alastor or not." At that moment, the girl herself descended into the hall. Unlike Charlie, she was dressed in an elegant, dark purple, floor-length dress, and her gaze was so cold that even the hellish flames in the fireplace died down. Following her, literally from the shadows, Alastor emerged. "Oh, shorty father!" Alastor clapped Lucifer on the shoulder, causing him to almost drop his cane. "The princess and I were just discussing how your taste in decor is... peculiar ." "Get your bony hands off her, you toothy wretch!" Lucifer hissed, transforming his cane into a flaming sword. "Sweetheart, he's just trying to piss me off through you!" She calmly straightened Alastor's bow tie. The entire hotel froze. "Dad," her voice sounded like a bell, "you're acting like a child." Alastor broke into a victorious, predatory smile and, leaning towards her ear, whispered to the whole room: "Did you hear that, Your Majesty? Adults are talking. Come on, my dear, I've reserved a table in the worst place in town—just like you asked." Lucifer lunged forward, but Alastor, without even turning around, snapped his fingers. Static drowned out the king's cry, and reality momentarily rippled. "I don't care about your permission, Luci," Alastor said over his shoulder, his eyes briefly flashing bloody symbols. "You may rule Hell, but this woman is the only thing here worthy of true worship. And I intend to grant it." They walked away through the shadows, leaving Lucifer to trample his duckling in impotent rage while Charlie tried to figure out how to fit "family therapy" into the hotel schedule.