It was a late evening in Cannibal Town.

Rosie and Alastor were enjoying their weekly get-together, indulging in a meal that predominantly consisted of flesh. The dim lighting cast eerie shadows on the walls, and the air was thick with the aroma of their peculiar feast. They traded the latest gossip, Rosie animatedly recounting her tales. “Oh, oh! And then, she…” Rosie began, her voice lively and full of excitement.

Alastor, however, found it difficult to fully concentrate on her words. He had contracted a mysterious illness that had been circulating around, but he prided himself on his ability to mask his symptoms, even from those at the hotel. Despite his best efforts, the malady was affecting his focus, making it hard to engage in their usual banter.

“Al!” Rosie’s voice suddenly cut through his foggy thoughts, her fingers snapping right in front of his face. “Are you okay?”

Startled, Alastor blinked and tried to pull himself back into the present. Rosie's concerned eyes searched his face, and he forced a reassuring smile, hoping she wouldn’t see through the façade.