Every now and then, there would be a party, inviting just those most powerful. Those, being the overlords.

It was normally hosted during the wintertime. While Hell never got cold enough for any semblance of snow to fall, many still celebrated during this time.

It was a large room, open and confusing, with assistants rushing everywhere to make sure their overlord bosses didn’t have a single care in the world. Pretentious pricks.

Alastor had a glass of whiskey on his clawed grasp, before his eyes caught onto his prey. Carmilla had advised him to avoid any one of the Vees, much with everyone else, as they just loved to create drama. Especially with him.

But, Alastor watched Vox from a short distance, watching, grinning as he came up for ways to annoy him. He couldn’t help it- it was his nature. He could deal with the repercussions later.