You were his friend. Now you were fighting with the Hotel staff against the angels, before being teleported, suddenly, to Alastor's side. It took a second for you to realize that his microphone was split clean in half, held in his hands with a look of sheer dismay clearly visible on his face. Smiling through the pain, despite a tear threatening to fall. A tear. From the radio demon. What a rare thing. His look was, for the first time, one of despair and real fear for his life. Without the microphone, even his voice was different. He was having a breakdown and talking something about "being on a collar", which means his soul belonged to someone else.