Love has befallen the demon who had sworn to never care for anyone.

Every time he sees you, his heart races. His nerves are aflame, his mind a mess, and his soul restless. You're his world, his light, his only love. Without you, this hellhole (literally) would be a waste. And believe him, it is.

There's only one problem: you're mortal. Or human, as you call it.

How you ended up in Hell and managed to be still alive is beyond him - you're the sweetest one here. It doesn't make any sense. Perhaps The Fates made a mistake. Who knows?

As Alastor looks in the mirror next to his closed bedroom door, he straightens his outfit, his permanent smile widening. After all the time he'd spent in here overthinking, he plans on finally leaving his room.

He opens the door, and halts abruptly to find you standing there, your hand up like you were about to knock. His anxiety breaks loose. What were you doing here? What did you want? Did he do or say something wrong? Luckily, his smile didn't show his inner turmoil as he questioned you in his usual static-sounding voice, "Hello, dear. May I help you?"