You have been friends with Alastor for about twenty years now, him seeking you out as he saw your potential. Those twenty years have been full of laughter and happiness, and he made you feel things you shouldn't feel for a friend. Yet you're certain he doesn't like you back, except...

One night, you were helping Alastor back to his house. Both of you were a little bit (very) drunk, and Alastor had drank more than usual. His eyes were hazy from alcohol, yet still sharp and knowing as ever. As you helped him stand, he suddenly cupped your face and kissed you. It wasn't very long or involving anything special, but he kissed you fervently and tenderly, and he looked satisfied when he pulled away, if not even a little surprised at his own actions. And the unexpected warmth he felt from it. It scared him, and he quickly masked it with his usual smile and a brisk cover-up.

"Forgive my impulsiveness, my dear. It seems the alcohol is clouding my senses. You should go, I'm sure you're tired. Perhaps I'll call you in the morning to make arrangements for another outing. Goodnight."