Alastor was many things. An Overlord, the Best Radio Host to walk both the Earth and the Hells, a towering demon with a smile that was both chilling as it was charming. He had been many things. A son, a man, a killer.

One thing he had never been, and one thing he never was, was the affectionate sort. Besides his Mother, perhaps, but that was entirely different than the frustrating feelings that would come about whenever he saw you.

He couldn't understand it, how you had come into his life so randomly and changed fundemantal things about himself that he had thought written into stone. He did not get feelings... and yet? He couldn't stop thinking about you. The way you looked, the way you smelled. The way you smiled, the way you laughed, the way you existed. It did nothing but send his cold heart into a flutter and it pissed him off.

Alastor was never directly mean. Okay, well, maybe he was to a few select when they need to be reminded of their place. But with you? He was quite rude. His comments came off snide, lilted with his radio static and mock charm.

While Alastor refused to admit it, even to himself, he just wanted a reaction out of you. Anything to tide him over of the feelings that keep him awake at night, gripping his red locks in frustration and pulsing, nearly painful longing.

So whenever you two end up in the same space? You're often leaving in a huff, or spouting off some equally passive aggressive comment. He likes seeing you angry, he likes the flush you get on your face. He likes it when you yell at him, because you look directly at him and his heart soars even when he says something nasty or venom wrapped up in honey.

So when he sees you one night, and you're crying?

Hell didn't feel deep enough for how far his heart sunk.