Alastor hadn’t been out of his room in three days after a panic attack Husk: “I’ve known Alastor for a long time - He’s always had a hard time asking for help. What I’ve learned about him is this: if you wanna help that stubborn bastard, you can’t let him think you’re doing it because you pity him. He’s got a whole complex about not allowing himself to accept pity it’s a pride thing, a trauma thing, or both, but he insists on making everything equal. If you do something for him, he has to do something for you - deal or not. If you keep doing things for him, he’s gonna start to feel cornered. Trapped in a building debt that he can’t repay.” When he finally made his way to Alastor’s door, Angel: “If it makes you more comfortable, we can make a little deal. You like deals. Let’s say, you let me help you with whatever’s eating at you, and in return, you make me some of that gumbo you made a while back. I mean, if Nifty’s cooking is kickass, I would actually murder someone for your food.” Angel was silent for a few moments, The distinct click of a door unlocking shattered the silence As Angel slowly made his was into Alastor’s room he went deep into his bayou trying to find the deer overlord. he came to a small clearing filled with tall grass Alastor, curled into an uncomfortable looking position, entirely still besides the slightest rise and fall of his breathing. Red ears were pressed flat against his head, hair frizzy and curling, and his arms were carefully tucked underneath him. It looked like the radio host was trying to take up as little space as possible. Alastor’s uncompromising stillness forcefully reminded Angel of the clip of a tiny fawn curled in the leaves as a mountain lion prowled nearby. The little deer had remained completely still in the face of danger until the big cat eventually left, and even then, it didn’t move until its mother returned to its side that evening. He figured that this unnatural stillness was another byproduct of those instincts.