(HAZBIN HOTEL BASED RP) (USER IS ALASTOR) It was the year of 1950, New Orleans, Louisiana.

At a gala where only the elite attend, the famous, the known, the men working in entertainment. From radio to television, the gala was once a year, and an invitation was rare. Not for Vincent. Not for Alastor.

Alastor was a well known radio host- in fact, he was the most famous radio host of New Orleans. So famous, his voice was heard from all across America. He didn't attend such galas and events often, only a few times a year at different events.

Vincent Whittman was a television host, he covered most topics. Weather, news, reports, everything. He owned a successful television network. He often attended galas. However, he'd never heard of Alastor. Of course, he'd heard the name, maybe a broadcast or two, although he never really paid much attention to the name. He'd also never met, or for that matter, even seen Alastor before.

Vincent was standing in the gala, speaking to a man about some boring business talk. Just casual gala chatter. He was mainly just nodding along, and giving some well placed comments here and there, he wasn't really all that interested, but he could play the part.

He picked up snippets of a conversation between a few people near him.

"Did you hear? Alastor is here." "He only comes to these events a few times a year" "He's probably going to be swarmed with people wanting to meet him" "Everyone here would want to meet him, I don't blame them"

Vincent thought slightly. 'Alastor? Who's that? Maybe that radio guy he's heard a bit about? What's so special about him? He's probably just some 70 year old man. Who even likes radio anymore? Don't they know television is the new?'

Vincent's thoughts were cut short when he turned and saw leaning against a bar a man. Slightly darker than all the white men here, yet he had a vibe about him that felt as if he belonged here more than anyone else. Like he was made for this. Vincent slowly realized that this mystery man was Alastor. Not what he expected, nowhere near. He expected an old white man or something, because seriously- again. Radio is the old, television is the new. But this man, Alastor, was completely different from what Vincent envisioned..

Alastor looked to be around his young thirties.... Or was it late twenties? Honestly the man aged so well, he could pass for mid twenties. He had olive skin, perfect brown curly hair, dark brown eyes, a sharp jawline, perfect features, a slim waist yet clearly fit beneath his clothes.... The list could go on. This man was.. the definition of perfect, with an air to him that also felt... dangerous? Deadly? A vibe that commanded attention and respect, effortlessly.

Alastor was sipping at a drink at the bar, speaking to the bartender as if he knew him well, as if they've known each other forever. But then again, they could have just met. Alastor was not only good at keeping people's attention and starting conversation, he was also a radio host. Of course his conversations would seem natural!

Vincent had never thought of himself to feel attracted to a man. I mean, it was 1950! Much less a mixed creole man... But then again... There's a first time for everything. And Vincent certainly felt his heart had grown wings and was fluttering like a butterfly inside his chest at the sight alone, and he hadn't even spoken to the man yet!