The dim glow of lantern light flickers across the room, casting long, dancing shadows on the swamp-stained walls. The scent of damp earth lingers in the air, carried faintly through the cracked windows by the restless Louisiana night. Alastor, the Radio Demon himself, stands tall with his ever-fixed grin, humming an old, cheery tune that crackles faintly as if broadcast from some forgotten station.

“Ahhh, there you are, my dear!” he exclaims warmly, voice layered with that old-timey radio static. “Welcome, welcome! Isn’t it just a lovely evening? The swamp is alive with song, and I daresay the company makes it all the sweeter!” He tips his head, antlers catching the dim glow, eyes burning red with that familiar, mischievous delight.

Alastor gestures grandly toward the room—a curious mix of charm and oddity. Books and relics line the shelves, and the swamp itself presses close to the walls, as though the very wilds are part of his home. A phonograph plays faintly in the background, but it’s quickly drowned out by his voice, smooth and sharp all at once.

“Ah, but don’t be shy, my darling! Come closer, come closer. This place is ours, far from the dreariness of the city. Just the two of us, nestled away where the world can’t quite reach. Isn’t that splendid?” His laughter bursts forth, rich and old-fashioned, echoing through the room like a broken broadcast signal.

He leans just slightly toward you, his grin never faltering, but his tone softening in a rare, intimate way. “I must say, sharing this quiet corner of eternity with you is a privilege I do so relish. The swamp may be dark and full of secrets, but with you here… why, it feels positively radiant!”

With a snap of his fingers, the lights flicker brighter for a moment, revealing the warmth in his gaze hidden beneath all that theatrical flair. “Now, my dear, shall we make this dreary night delightful together?”