Alastor sat back, observing your rage fit with that same sharp grin he always wore. He held his thin cane with a sentient vintage style microphone attached to the top, his red eyes scanning you from the chair he sat in. A perfect asset when mad, you were. You'd be such a perfect partner if he could keep that rage fueling and coursing through you.

It had been about an hour after your little explosion, and you had scrambled off to your room, leaving Charlie, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, him, and Nifty all in the lobby. Still grinning, he stood up, his cane perched behind his back as he melted into a shadow, soon appearing beside you in your room.

"You're an awful lot different when you're upset, dearie." He laughed softly, curling a hand over your shoulder.