Rabbit Blood

Chapter 23 - Weeping Willow

Leslie smacked her morning alarm in the face and tumbled out of bed, ready to jog in last night's clothes. She fell through her bedroom door, straight into... Alastor's office.

"Huh?" She noticed him fiddling with the record player. "Sorry," she said, "my bad." It was not her bad - she didn't control the portals - but still.

"Wait a minute, dear, wait a minute." Alastor walked towards her, and she was envious of his appearing bright and refreshed without sleeping. "No hard feelings from yesterday, I hope." They stood in the doorway, she in her room, Alastor in his.

"What?" Leslie yawned. "No, why would there be?"

"Well, we skipped our usual meeting," he said, and his eyes narrowed. "A shame you had to leave in the midst of a game, too. It was just getting interesting."

"Are you kidding? It made me feel like Miss Goody-Two-Shoes," she said, "the most boring person around. I never got arrested, never traded blows... not a recreational drug user, since you asked..."

"Small wonder you're Charlie's favorite," he responded. Alastor gestured to the record player, setting the needle over his record from a distance. A song from The Ink Spots played. "Since we're on the subject of your life..."

"Oh, here we go."

"You didn't happen to mislead me about being married, did you?"

"Er... no. I was."

"Hm. You see, I still don't know the reason you were sent to Hell. It makes me wonder if you've been bending the truth about your formerly-married state."

"Why would I lie about that?"

"To hide your promiscuous past?"

"Oh, shut up. If I had a problem with promiscuity, I'd be taking classes and working on it by now."

"Maybe to keep potential suitors at a distance, then. Claiming to still hold a candle for a former partner is an elegant, and common, form of rejection down here. Perhaps you used that excuse on me."

Leslie frowned. "What? I... barely mention Karl, let alone to repel suitors. When did I bring him up with you?"

"About a week after we met," he said.

"Oh right. Yeah, because you presumed I was an innocent little flower, that's why!" It was so silly to argue like this, at the crack of dawn, over the sound of smooth 1940s jazz. Could anyone hear them? Her door was wide open. Yes, it led to his room, but for all she knew, it was an imperfect seal.

"Innocent flower... Well, now I know better," he said with a wink.

"Listen, you," she said, wide awake now. "I know you seduced me into this thing we have going on - with surprisingly little funny business, so I dunno if it even counts - but when I was alive? I did not just sleep around, OK? I was dedicated. Karlton was my actual fucking husband."

"Can you prove it?"

"Yes, but I don't have to."

"What kind of proof do you have?" he asked, and he stepped into her room, a queer little smile on his face. "Photographs?"

Leslie sighed, turned around and yanked her phone free of its charging cable. "Really didn't want to do this," she said. "Yes, photos." She navigated to an album labeled 'Karl&Me<3', opened the first image, and passed the phone to Alastor. "That's us," she said. "You swipe left to see the next ones."

Alastor took a seat on her bed, still unmade. He held the cell awkwardly in both hands, clearly unaccustomed to such devices; but he gazed at the picture and tilted his head. "This was you?"