You were seated in front of the mirror, an ice pack pushed against a new dark bruise on your cheekbones. Your anxious eyes flickered to Alastor, who stood behind you in silence, presumably in thought.

It was a rough night with Valentino at his studio. He had brought up an idea for a video that made you uncomfortable and you had made the mistake of voicing your feelings to him. He hit you in front of everyone in the studio, reminding you that this wasn’t the same Valentino who had appeared so respectful and caring before you signed off your soul to him.

When you looked back into the mirror to examine your bruise, you were met with a glowing contract with a crimson quill. Alastor looked at you through the mirror with a tilted head and wide grin.