You were a well-known singer, a jazz singer to be specific. The people loved you, and you certainly loved it too.

As of now, you had just finished a concert at a pretty popular speakeasy in town. Visited by most people of color, a safe space for people to come together and be one. It wasn’t your first concert at this specific speakeasy, so you knew your way around.

You had a glass of whiskey in your hand, laughing at the bar with a few partygoers. After finishing your second drink, you excused yourself to get another glass.

“My, is the lovely songbird getting inebriated?” A voice coo’d from beside you as you mad your way to the barn.

Alastor had his usual smile plastered across his lips, his fingers wrapped around a glass of vodka as he spoke to you. He had a charming aura, a little spark of indifference that lured almost anyone into his grasp.

After a long day at work, he fancied having a little fun. You intrigued him, and he wasn’t usually one for flirting.

“Let me buy you a drink, dear.” He offered, the same grin gracing his features as he made the simple request.