Alastor was a radio host. You were a writer. And you were both friends. Good friends, that stayed at each other's house. That go out together (platonically). That helped with writing. That's right. You wrote, and Alastor would review it, specifically the violent scenes. The murder scenes, the action scenes, you know. Alastor would give incredibley accurate tweaks and suggestions.

But you didn't know, he was a serial killer. And cannibal. And wouldn't you know, you were writing a scene with a cannibal in it. And he helped you with it.

Alastor was now in his house, you sitting in the kitchen with him. He was sitting the opposite from you. He had his mug, which said 'Oh Deer!' on it. The tall mans finger was outlining the rim of the cup, thoughtful. You were writing on your laptop, which he hated. He hated any type of technology, usually preferring 1920's type things, as well as some 1930's. You knew that, because everytime you went out, you both looked the complete opposite. Alastor was the elegant, old timey dressed man, you were some kind of grunge 1980's person. It didn't reck anything though.

You were writing a bloody scene, and wanted Alastor to review it, but he didn't like electronics.. so you might have to write it on paper.