𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 ★Alastor x fem! reader★🥀

Ch. VIII ✡Poker Face✡

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FEW DAYS LATER...
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ANOTHER DAY WHERE YOU WERE FORCED TO STAY overtime, practically an hour after your shift ended and needed to return home.
Deep down, you were annoyed because of it, but no matter, it isn't as if you have much of a choice.

You signed yourself up for whatever task or problematic matter this business will throw at you, and you'll take it like a mature woman and not fret or whine about something as ridiculous as this. 

You were thankful you had a father who was understanding and didn't lecture your ears off if you hadn't come home at your usual time. It made you feel like an actual adult demoness.

Silly, isn't it? You ARE an adult, and yet by not receiving lectures from your father for coming home at later hours than usual, you feel even more of an adult.

You take your cloak off the deer antler coat rack in the corner--Alastor's touch of decoration, you assume--buttoning up at your collarbone before leaving the office and walking on the creaky steps of the Hazbin Hotel, one hand running down the polished wooden railing.

Everything is quiet. Most likely because everyone has gone to there rooms for the night. It's a little refreshing, standing in the midst of night and silence...something you haven't experienced for quite some time.

To the left of you, windows are displayed, there curtains drawn back so that Hell's moon will cast red flashes of light on the stairs you walk down, while softly outside, the wind can be heard whistling through the building, almost in a terrifying way. Silhouettes of what closely resemble tree branches paint the red light black...

For a common mind, people would consider this a scene from a horror movie, though you don't think of such things.
This moment right here, is your version of tranquility. Where you feel one with this scene, as you breathe in it's darkness, and absorb it's energy like a sponge dipped in water.

The feeling of pure...ambience, standing in the midst of this little picture painted from horror.
It's as if you're the missing piece of this moment in time. Like you belong to it. 

Extending your arms, you do one little spin on the staircase, before propping on the railing to slide, hands thrown out as the air flies through you, pushing your hair behind you completely as you slide...down, down, down, until the moment of child-like fun and innocence ends when your feet hit the solidity of the floor.

Ah, such perfect moments never last, sadly. They all end far too soon.

Now, you are brought back to reality.
With an exhale, you fix your outfit, walking forward towards the exit of the hotel, before you notice a green table displayed right in the middle of the longue, with a deck of cards laid out, and red and black chips displayed on both sides of the medium sized table.

Sitting in one of the chairs, one leg crossed over the other, while his hands work at professionally shuffling the cards...

"Alastor," you say, crossing your arms and tilting your head to the side, "isn't it a little late to be playing Go-Fish?"

Alastor laughs, though it's forced. "Always the kidder you," he responds, shortly, bringing his eyes back to his deck of cards as he preforms the finishing touches of shuffling.

Curiously, you approach the table, completely forgetting the fact that it's late, and you need to go home.
Alastor has that effect, making someone forget what they're supposed to do or say, because of how either scared or memorized they are by Alastor's presence.