Ballet Shoes and Radios

Yet Another Cleanse

A/N: The video above is unrelated but so emotional I love it. Also, before we start, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 300 READS!!

(TIMESKIP)

REEE REEEEEEEEEEEEEEE REEEEEEEEEE REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

The siren rang out. An eardrum splitting sound straight out of Hell. No pun intended. It was pretty much the second-death call for most lowlife sinners who had no way to defend themselves. "And there goes the alarm!" Alastor said cheerfully into the mic on the recording table. This year, he had chosen to do his broadcast in the library. You were seated in one of the couches near by, reading your favorite book. Not too long after the siren, you heard the sound of wings and angels swooping through the polluted air down to the ground. Then the first screams started.

Eventually, the sound of the weapons, the wings, the screaming, and squelching blood faded together into a symphony of carnage. You turned your focus to the book once more. Nothing but white noise. The sounds of violence was nothing but white noise to you. Alastor chatted away to his listeners on the radio, that also just eventually faded into white noise. You were so intent on reading the words that by the time you were on the last two pages, you realized you had forgotten to actually understand what you were reading. Flipping the book back to the first page, you tried to properly read, instead of just looking at the letters. Your head ached. A sharper, shriller scream sounded, rising above the steady hum of noise. Just more white noise, like a static whine. You reminded yourself. But eventually, you gave out to the migraine. Dropping the book, you shot up. Alastor turned to you in surprise and cocked an eyebrow. "Just going to get something to drink," you croaked. He nodded, returning to his show, but just as you left the library, you felt his gaze on you again.

Shutting the door behind you, you trudged towards the kitchen. The sounds grew louder and louder as you approached the ground floor. You heard Angel cooing to his pet pig on the fourth floor, Vaggie comforting Charlie on the third, and when you reached the ground floor, Husk dropping a bottle onto what sounded like a whole pile. You strode over to the bar. You didn't drink liquor that often, but you were willing to make an exception today. "One hurricane," you spun onto one of the many swiveling barstools, "If you're still sober enough to make one, that is." Looking up from yet another bottle, he placed it down on the counter and got to it. You sat, elbow on countertop, jaw on fist. Just then, someone else came down to join you at the bar. Alastor swiveled into his seat in a similar fashion to you and beamed. "Same as usual?" the cat demon on the other side grumbled. "You know it, Husker my friend!" Alastor said cheerfully. Husk scowled, and after setting your order down, got to work on Alastor's. You swished your glass around and checked the ice was floating until finally gingerly taking a sip from the drink. When you looked up, Alastor was staring at you. "What?" you asked, "Can never be too safe. I wouldn't put anything past anyone." Shrugging, you took another sip. Husk looked over from the bar in confusion, "Were you seriously just checking if I spiked your drink?"

"Maybe."

You looked back to The Radio Demon. He was still staring. Almost studying your features. You stared back quizzically. Alastor adverted his gaze and directed his attention to Husk, who set a Martini down on the counter, a light pink shade subtly dusting his face. You tilted your head slightly in confusion, but went back to your drink.