Alastor, having been a mama's boy in his past, mortal life, regularly mistook you for his mother on different occasions.

You had been sitting with Alastor in the lobby on one of the couches, simply scrolling your eyes over a book you'd pulled off a shelf before taking your place beside him. You felt a head rest on your shoulder, Alastor's wide yellow grin now a drowsy, pointed smile. Another few minutes went by, and Alastor began stirring, his eyes remaining closed. "Mama...?" He mumbled.