Pardon The Way That I Stare

Chaos

When the trio arrived back at the hotel, their laughter abruptly died as they walked into a chaotic scene. The air inside was thick with tension. A guest, deep in the throes of a manic episode, was screaming and throwing things across the lobby. Angel Dust and Husk were trying, and failing, to hold the man down, while Charlie stood nearby, desperately attempting to reason with him.

"Hey, take it easy!" Charlie pleaded, hands raised in a gesture of calm, though her voice wavered with frustration.

Alastor, initially amused by the sight, leaned in close to Lucifer. "This is better than most of the radio dramas I've heard recently," he whispered with a mischievous grin.

But before Lucifer could respond, a small figure darted across the room—Niffty, running straight toward Alastor. She clung to him, trembling, her usually cheerful expression replaced with one of fear. Alastor's smile faded when he saw the deep gash on her arm, blood dripping down her elbow.

Alastor's demeanor shifted instantly, his voice cold and calculating. "What happened, dear?" he asked, eyes narrowing.

"He—he cut me," Niffty whimpered, her voice shaky. "I was trying to help calm him down, and he slashed me with a knife."

Alastor's face darkened. His normally jovial smile twisted into something sinister. Without another word, he marched toward the screaming guest, his long strides carrying him across the room with deadly purpose.

The man was too distracted in his manic frenzy to see Alastor approaching, but by the time he realized, it was too late. Alastor grabbed him by the neck, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. The guest's eyes bulged in terror as Alastor tightened his grip.

"You dare hurt one of mine?" Alastor's voice was low, almost a growl. With an almost casual flick of his wrist, he dragged the man outside and threw him down onto the ground. What happened next was brutal and swift—Alastor beat him to death with terrifying precision, each strike calculated, efficient, and laced with rage.

Inside, the others stared, frozen in shock.

"Guess he's gonna handle it his way," Angel muttered to Husk, who shrugged, too used to the chaos to react.

Charlie frowned but didn't try to intervene. She knew better than to stop Alastor when he was like this.

A few minutes later, Alastor returned to the lobby, wiping a small splash of blood from his sleeve as if he had just finished a minor chore. His smile was back, bright and unbothered.

"So," Alastor began casually, addressing the room with a cheery tone, "how's everyone's day been?"

The room fell into a stunned silence, only broken by a small sniffle from Niffty. Alastor glanced down at her and without missing a beat, gently picked her up into his arms as if nothing had happened.

"Let's get that arm cleaned up, dear," he said sweetly, carrying her to the bathroom.

Lucifer, Rosie, and the others just watched, unsure how to respond to the sudden shift from violence to calm. Angel exchanged a glance with Husk, who just sighed, took a swig of whiskey and lit a cigarette.

"Well, at least he didn't tear the hotel apart this time," Angel muttered.

"Yeah," Husk grunted. "Small victories."