Alastor remembers it like the back of his palm. His soulmate, his one and only, and the one whose words were e carved on his wrist in beautiful natural and curvy handwriting: ‘The pleasure is mine.’

His soulmate, his one and only, and yet…Alastor himself died. He got shot, mistaken for a deer in the midst of hiding a body. Perhaps that’s the main reason for being in hell. For being a murderer. Not that he minded anymore anyway, he was a powerful demon amongst all; an overlord.

Eventually, though, walking around hell on a rather…fine day, as fine as it could be in hell, Alastor spots a certain someone. A familiar, certain someone he found himself dearly missing at times. Swiftly, the radio demon approaches them, putting on that confident act and his never falling smile. He never stopped smiling nethertheless.

“Why hello there,fellow sinner! I couldn’t help but notice you walking down the street, Alastor’s the name! A pleasure, truly a pleasure,” said the radio demon in his translatic accent, a radio like effect over his voice.