𝓦𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝓘𝙩 𝓑𝙪𝙧𝙣, 𝗔𝗡 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗛 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗬 𝗙𝗜𝗖

𝓒𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝓕𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣

A/N: DISCO by Nessa Barrett is so Ali-coded, like you should actually play it while reading his POV. I LOVE YOU, NESSA BARRETT <3

Ali Nimer's POV

When driving into Book End, Ali turned up the radio. DISCO by Nessa Beauty was playing, it was his type of music. 'Take me to the disco, set my heart on fire, wanna see where this goes, make me feel alive...' He rubbed his eyes, hoping that he was sober enough to drive. (Reminder to never drink and drive from Nadine.)

Finally, he arrived at his destination, opening the car door as he rested his eyes upon the building in front of him. Midnight Shelter, founded by... yours truly, Hassan.

Hold on! It's Nadine right here and I just had to pause the story for one minute since Ali can't hear Narrators. You're probably wondering 'Who the hell is Hassan?' and let's just say Ali thinks he's slick. Ali may be the Party Prince, but holy hex, is he nice when he wants to be. Which is more often than you think, but alas, plot armour seems to be this book's favourite thing.

Under a pen name, Ali created a shelter for, well, basically anyone who needed a home. 'How sweet!' is probably what you're thinking, and yeah it is, but Ali is an asshole who doesn't want anything to know. It's... complicated.

Mostly because of the plot armour.

Anyways, unpause!

From the car, the song continued to play. 'And we use a bed, babe, I could be your band-aid, I could wreak some havoc, I'm only into bad boys. Saw you at the disco, I could be your good girl...' Ali leaned against his car, staring at the shelter for a bit. It was sort of a funny name for the shelter—his mother was always telling him about how she went on the carpet ride with his dad at midnight. Seeing as his name is Ali, which was a massive joke in general, it only felt right. Every few months, Ali would stop by the shelter to see how it was going.

Everything seemed to be running smoothly, so he was about to turn around when he heard a familiar voice coming from inside. "Lucifer, spit the mouse out! No, no, spit it out!" It was faint, but still recognizable. Better question; what the hex was Daphne Tremaine doing there?

Oh, for Grimm's sake—

He walked into the shelter, hearing the noise coming from the community playroom. Peeking his head inside, he saw Daphne wrestling a dead rat from a black cat's mouth. "I'm taking away catnip privileges for a week." She dropped it in the trash can, shuddering as the cat scrambled away. The playroom was full of children, primarily little kids who were chasing around the cat until it screeched.

"So are you just going to stand there?" Daphne asked, her voice steel. Jesus Christ, did she have eyes from the back of her head? There was a note of pride in her voice, but Ali couldn't decipher why. "Didn't think this was your place, you know? Poor people and such."

Ali straightened. "Of course it's not. Why are you here?" he asked suspiciously.

"The kids like the cat, so I brought him here. Isn't Lucifer a cutie? Very coquette." Daphne laughed, gesturing to a group of girls who were clipping bows and ribbons onto the cat's black fur. Lucifer seemed as if he was a bow away from biting off a child's finger. Still, Ali stooped to the floor, wanting to pet Lucifer. "He's not friendly, he likes to scratch my ankles every morning."

Ali snorted. Growing up around the palace, his mother kept tigers all the time. He petted Lucifer, and though he hissed, Ali scooped him up and scratched the cat behind his ears. "Et, tu?" Daphne said to Lucifer. "Traitor."

"Okay, you actually need to go," Ali told Daphne. He didn't need anyone staying around the shelter and finding out he was the founder. Despite loving and often craving attention, Ali only liked certain types of attention. This? Yeah, he was on-and-off when displaying his generosity. "You're French, right? So how do you say 'Daphne, take your cat and get out' in French?"