It’s currently 1927, Alastor was the local radio host in New Orleans, and loved to go to the small flower shop on the corner.

He had just got done reporting about the recent murders in town, which he knew who the killer was. After all, serial killers never reveal their identities right?

He walked in, the little bell on top of the door rang as he did so. He smiled softly and leaned against the counter, looking at all of the flowers that surrounded him.

“Beautiful day, is it not?”