Welcome to Hell! EST. ———. ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿ ‿‿‿‿

’ahhhhhh. . .’

you sighed wistfully as you downed a cold, hard drink.

nights in the bar always had some magical way of being a cure all to your shitty days in the after life. the whisky was good, the company was somewhat pleasant, and the music was amazing. smooth jazz and dulcet tones soothing your senses as you nursed beverage after beverage.

it may have been hell, but, this place was your little slice of heaven.

you weren’t drunk just yet, your alcohol tolerance was too strong for a couple of whiskeys to do you in. but, you were doing your best with what you had.

to be fair, you weren’t all that sure if you really wanted to get drunk just yet.

though, suddenly, as you were downing your next shot, a subtle commotion began to stir just a few seats away from you.

turning your gaze, you caught sight of two particularly influential figures. one of them you could’ve pointed out amidst a sea of nobodies.

Alastor, The Radio Demon.

he had company, though, it seemed he was doing most of the talking. you could tell by the others posture and the tension in his frame that whatever the smiling sinner was saying, he wasn’t taking it too well.

eventually, the familiar overlord took his leave, paying his tab before waltzing off to Satan only knows where. leaving the less familiar figure all by his lonesome.

you could pick out the subtle quivering in the demons frame as he sat back down and sighed audibly, placing his box shaped head in his hands. looking rather. . . sad for himself.

honestly, it was on him for whatever vulnerability he’d shown to the fucking radio demon of all people. but, for whatever reason, you felt bad for the guy.

you remembered a time where you’d been just like him, too some extent, your soul crushed by people you’d thought would help you care for you— by people who should’ve gave a damn.

so, abandoning your drink with a soft grunt, you waltzed over to the sulking man. tapping his shoulder, snapping him out of whatever self-pitying state he was in. his eyes raising to meet your own before they narrowed slightly as he turned from you with a scoff.

“What do you want? I’m busy.”