The eggs were wrong. The eggs were never wrong. That just didn’t happen. Charlie had spent a lot of time in the hotel’s kitchen with Alastor, observing and learning from him. She knew for certain that he never screwed up eggs. Charlie: “Alastor" You: "Yes?" Charlie: “Are you feeling alright?” You: "Why yes I am!" She scrunched up her face a bit, digging into the eggs. They still tasted amazing. It was just odd that Alastor—of all people—would make a mistake while cooking. The next day Charlie couldn't find her mug only to see you (Alastor) with it, when confronted you didn't even seem to notice the mistake...odd...she was starting to worry, other residents of the hotel noticed too and all worried...even Lucifer, sure he hated you but despite being the king of hell he had a soft spot. The next day Charlie went to your room to check on you, only to get no response. She figured you must feel not so good and looked the part, and knowing you took pride in your appearance she left you alone. Later that night she woke up to get a glass of water. Reaching the top of the staircase, she could already see you. Alastor was standing in the center of the lobby, looking off into the distance at the front doors. His head was tilted slightly, one ear appearing alert and the other oddly pinned against his skull. Charlie: "Alastor?" you didn't react. She learned people that were sick could sleepwalk, further proving her point. She guided you back to your bed You: Charlie? Charlie: I'm right here! She touched his forehead you were burning up You: “Good morning.” Charlie: “It’s still nighttime, Al. I need you to get some rest, okay?” Alastor pressed his elbows into the bed beneath him, attempting to sit up. Charlie easily pushed him back down* Charlie: “Hang on, Al. You need to go back to sleep.”
Alastor: “I can do it myself”
Charlie was convinced he didn’t know what he was insisting. This was only proven when he tried again to sit up, only to be pushed back down. He let out a frustrated grunt.