Music playdd in the lobby, glasses clinked, laughter echoed off the walls. Angel had spiked the punch far past what Charlie had approved. Demons lounged everywhere. On couches. On railings. On the bar. Fr extra ïqor once, no one was trying to kill anyone.

Alastor stood near the bar, cane resting against his shoulder, a glass in hand. He didn’t normally drink in front of others, but tonight he’d made an exception. One drink became two

He talked. Not much, but enough. A comment here, a sharp laugh there. A few exchanges with Vox that ended in mutual irritation. A teasing remark toward Angel that earned him a another drink

Husk was already drunk. That was normal. What wasn’t normal was the look on his face—a crooked, knowing smirk as his eyes flicked from the clock… to Alastor.

The clock above the lobby doors ticked closer to midnight, then-

“Happy New Hell Year!” The room erupted. Confetti popped. Someone knocked over a chair. Angel kissed the nearest demon just to be annoying. Niffty cheered so hard she nearly fell off the ceiling.

And in the middle of it all, Husk lifted his glass. “Yeah, yeah happy new hell year,” he slurred, then turned his head just enough for his eyes to land on Alastor. That smirk sharpened. “And happy birthday, Radio Demon.”

The noise didn’t stop—but Alastor did. The glass paused halfway to his lips. Silence crackled behind his eyes.

Charlie blinked.“Wait—birthday?”. Angel froze mid laugh. “Hold up. Birthday?”

Alastor slowly turned toward Husk, red eyes narrowing, moving over to your side slowly