Chapter Text
Six months.
It had been six months since Angel had moved back into the lavish studio apartment in the Porn Studios Tower. It was still the best apartment the studio had, and Valentino had been happy enough to have Angel Dust back at the studio full time that he had even had it renovated and redecorated to whatever whims the spider could have.
Angel had been lauded with the much sought after "Multiple O-vation", the most prestigious award that an adult film actor could receive following the release and incredible reception of "Hazbin Whoretel." It had bolstered revenue for Valentino and increased Angel Dust's income by triple. For the first time since his arrival in hell and subsequent contract with Val, it was actually a possibility that he could manage to pay off his debt and regain his soul, but only if he could continue to bring in bank. Of course, this meant long days, longer nights, and a grueling schedule that kept him far too busy. In short, it kept him busy enough to not have thinking time, and that suited the spider just as well. He found that thinking was something that he’d just rather not be doing much of. Thinking meant remembering who he really was and exactly what he had done to become who he was now. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t really care too much anymore if he was free from Valentino. He really didn’t have any purpose and that scared him more than any overlord, Vee included.
When he had any time away from the cameras and lights he would be sleeping, either in his apartment or with Val, who still doted on his favorite pet, and was if possible even more demanding than he had been in the past. Angel Dust didn't seem to care. Angel was too numb inside to care for much of anything, after all, what was there for him to care about now? Angel Dust did what he had to in order to continue going through the motions, numbing himself with whatever the drug of the day was in addition to the generous allowance of bennies, powder, and pot.
It had taken days for the staff of the hotel to hear the rumor of what was released. Maybe two weeks before they caught a clip and news segment on the instant chart topping video. A hush had fallen over the lobby as the four parodied persons plus Pentious had stared in growing horror before Charlie had made the quiet request for Niffty to fetch her laptop. The ladybug had set it on the bar, found the video behind a rather cheap paywall as far as the princess was concerned, and the rest was mortified, horrified and tearful history.
Within the next few days there were more news stories, reviews, and talk shows about the porn and it's roaring success. Valentino made his statements about his hard work, his actors and high acclaim to Angel but he was smugly satisfied about his revenue and reserved with the interviews.
Vox however was taking as much credit as possible, both for the film and dispersal down to sly comments that it was his idea all along. A long snippet with Killjoy was the mantis and media mogul tearing apart the integrity of Charlie and staff, her hotel, and even the insanity of anyone who would let her carry on her foolish project. It was unanimously agreed that the plot of Hazbin Whoretel would be a better reality than the truth.
The next day there were two visitors to the hotel and Alastor finally left his rooms. He kept a distance, watchful, and only safe from assault by Charlie's hold on Vaggie. The next day a half dozen visitors and one hopeful check-in. And the next day two. It was unclear why they came and what they hoped for but within a month the hotel was bustling and Charlie had learned to keep televisions off the news for her heart's health.
Pentious had healed for the most part, keeping his residence in Angel's abandoned room with a sneering stubbornness no one dared question once his ability to screech insults returned. Spending half his time in an empty lot across from the hotel trying to rebuild some of his machinery, he also subtly looked for Cherri. It was difficult, Vox had stripped him of so much, but he was determined and even the lack of progress did not deter him. Nothing would.
Gradually everyone was moving on with life, albeit with a few topics no one dared bring up. But Charlie never wavered in her trust for Angel, or Alastor, and on the eve of six months of worry the Overlord was tired of her pleading stares and varying subtle to direct hints. He sat at his desk, manifested his microphone, and called Angel.
Angel had been filming, and that in itself was nothing new. Angel was always filming. When he wasn't filming he was entertaining and rubbing elbows with high profile visitors to the studio. No matter what he was doing, he was kept in a steady supply of his most trusted drug, his namesake, PCP. On the days the drug didn't fix him up, he'd add a bit of benzos and tequila to the mix. In any case, he stayed busy. In six months time he hadn't missed one day of work. He had literally worked every day for six months, a record for the arachnid who had always managed to slink away after a few days, needing the time to himself or just needing to feel the rebellion. Until today. Valentino had shown up the night before after leaving his office, a bottle of wine and chocolate truffles in hand.
"Oooh Daddy, what's tha celebration?" He had asked, sliding his primary arms around the pimps midsection. Being affectionate with Valentino was much easier now, since the pimp was fairly the only other physical contact the star had besides his abundance of physical touch at work, but that was a different animal altogether.
"6 months, Angelcakes." He said, kissing the top of his head. "That film has been at the top of the bestseller list since we released it. Tonight we're celebratin' that."
Of course Angel already knew exactly how the pimp would prefer to celebrate, and it had been a very late night before Valentino had fallen asleep next to Angel. When Angel woke up, Valentino was already gone, as usual. Angel stretched and made his way to the kitchenette to turn on the coffee pot. It was there that he found a short note from the pimp.
“Angel baby, Ya work too hard lately. You are off today and don't let me catch ya doin nothin but relaxing. Ya got an appointment at the salon at 2. Manicure, hair, whatever ya want. It's all on the studio.”
Angel groaned. He really didn't want time off. He wanted the frantic and harried pace of the studio. He wanted to have to run from one set to the next to make his deadlines. He wanted to be too busy to do anything but think, but what else could he do? Orders were orders. When Val said no, it wasn’t up for debate, and arguing it with the pimp would net less than desirable results, Angel knew from experience.
He considered taking a fistful of barbiturates and sleeping the day away, but remembering the appointment at two, he reconsidered.
After having a day filled with far too much thinking, Angel was working on hemming a costume design he had been working on as time permitted. It wasn’t really working, he decided, since he did it more because he liked to tailor his own clothes so that they fit him in all of the right places. He’d been working at it for a while when he became aware of a soft hissing noise coming from his bottom dresser drawer. He approached it carefully and gently opened it, causing the hissing - which he now recognized as static - to grow louder. He stared at it for a moment, head cocked to the side in bewilderment, as he gently removed the forgotten little radio, still tuned to AM, from the drawer, the long power cord dangling, the plug at the end swinging gently to and fro. Had he finally made his way to the -1000 mark? Why would Alastor contact him this way as opposed to simply showing up for his head?
"I can hear ya. If ya looking for me ya know damn well where I am." He set the radio on the end table, waiting for a response.
The static dimmed, clearing to a soft hum of active signal. 《Angel. I am well aware of your current dwelling but it would be quite rude to invite myself to the studio. I'm under the impression Miss Charlie's attempts you reach you have been interrupted. Could I persuade you to visit the hotel on her behalf?"》 It was perfectly polite, a soft request without pressure or his usual mocking tone. If anything he sounded exhausted. 《Your departure was unexpected and...unnecessary.》He added gently.
Angel sighed. He wasn’t sure what Alastor was playing at, but he just didn’t have the patience to play this game with the radio demon. He wasn’t in the mood to be prodded and aggravated. In all honesty, he hadn’t been inclined to deal with anything of the sort for a little over six months.
“I don't know how ya couldn't have expected it, the others, sure, but l…" he sighed as he ran a hand roughly over his hair, then rubbed between his eyes. "yanno what? Forget about that. If ya want me ta come, I'll come. I can come now if that suits ya."
Angel didn't know why he'd lost his nerve during the conversation. He knew what he'd wanted to say. He'd honestly thought about going to the hotel many times over, to ask them to forgive the way they'd been screwed over, made fools of and used. How many times he'd considered it, only to come right back to the fact that he had no right to forgiveness. He simply had no fucking right to ask for something that he had no right to in the first place. He'd seen the headlines, hell, he'd been IN half the interviews that ripped the hotel to shreds. Him, right there next to Valentino, the pimps ever-present arm candy. That was squarely on him.
He didn't know why anyone there would want to look at him, let alone speak to him, and if Charlie had been trying to reach him, this was the first he'd heard of it. He still had the letter she'd written shortly after everything blew up and it sure didn't sound to him like she was interested in talking. Generally telling a guy "if you ever show your face here again there will be nothing left to dispose of" it means he ain't welcome.
"I can come to the back if ya don't want me seen comin' in tha front" he added with a soft huff as he reached over for his jacket and phone.
On his side Alastor sighed, audible in the radio stream. So was the soft snap of his leather clad fingers. A swirling circle of shadow opened below the radio and his own black silhouette rose up. Blue eyes looked tired, the barest smile on the inky face as it stood still and held out a hand.《At least allow me to offer the ride. Less to discuss with anyone who may question us.》The Overlord explained, sitting back at his desk. 《Bring your contract.》
Angel nodded, not really thinking it through. There wasn’t really any way that Alastor could have heard the nod, but perhaps he might see it through his shadow. Who the hell could guess? Angel took a moment to pull the folded contract from the back of a framed picture mounted on his apartment wall. It was one of the few places he’d felt that it would be safe from Valentino’s sharp senses. Hiding anything from the pimp was a crapshoot at best.
Pulling him close in a dancer's hold, other hand on Angel's lower back, the shadow pulled him into a void on the floor. A moment's dizziness and they were in Alastor's private study where the deer sat, fingers laced and pressed against his lips. It was dimmer than usual, the fire banked low and only his red eyes glowing really illuminated him. All the better when he was haggard and unable to summon any humor for the situation.
"I'm surprised you accepted. Please, sit." His shadow gestured for him, pulling out a chair on the opposite side of the desk.
Angel wasn't sure what he had expected to see when he opened his eyes, but he hadn't expected Alastor to look so...worn. He was thinner, which Angel Dust hadn’t thought was actually possible, and the skin on his face was different, as if it was sagging just a little. His hair seemed duller and his eyes that Angel had always remembered vivid, now the fire had gone out of them. There was no denying that the time had been rough for both of them.
Angel sat as prompted, for once he had no cutting banter and it really wouldn't have been appropriate even if he had.
“Figured that after all I put yas through, th' least I could do is take responsibility for my actions." Angel couldn’t quite meet the eyes of the other, so he just spoke to the desk instead.
Alastor blinked, his small and practically permanent smile twitching slightly as he lowered his hands to regard Angel. "That is truly how you feel? That you were responsible for this?" He reached aside to grab a tall bottle of rum that was half empty, rising it awkwardly before remembering he had company and shifting to pour the spider a glass. Setting it back down he pushed it forward in quiet offer before taking a sip.
"From the way the others say you fled, I highly doubt you were a part of developing that little picture show beyond lending your commendable professionalism." He took a breath, sat back, and admitted something that made his ears twitch. "You performed rather well, considering the topic. Although I'll admit to no criteria to base it on."
Angel accepted the drink, downing it in one go. That damned film was the last thing that he felt like remembering right now, although in some way it had never been far from his thoughts for well over six months.
"Spin it anyway ya want, but no me woulda meant no movie. I coulda refused. I coulda risked it. Contract or not, I could've. Should've.”
He wiped a single tear, silently chastising himself for not being able to keep it under control. Of all the people to feel vulnerable in front of, there weren't many on the list higher than this one. Angel cursed this weakness.
"Should've.” he sighed. “But I didn't. I get ta live with that."
He stared at the desk and tried to be numb. Think about something else till the feeling passed.
"I'm not 'spinning' it Angel. I'm a deal maker, an Overlord because of that fact among others. I am aware that if you denied him your services you would be forfeiting yourself." Alastor had no patience left for formality tonight. Sitting back he drank from the bottle, one arm propped on an armrest to hold up his cheek. "No one would expect you to kill yourself over something so trivial."
Angel sighed. Of course Alastor didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand and somehow Angel could understand and accept that, but he still didn’t have the patience to keep up.
"That don't change how I feel. We could argue this all of eternity. I shoulda done somethin' different. Found a way.” He spoke gently, but all the same his index finger stabbed the desk in front of him, accentuating each word. He sighed and gathered his thoughts while requesting a refill by lifting the glass and inclining his head.
“You're right about some of it though. I didn't know what we was filmin till I got there. I had no fuckin idea they was doin that. Sure, I could have just come back and told everybody what happened, but how believable would that be? And Cherri came up missin the day before. Still missin'. And then the letter I got from Charlie warnin me ta stay away...hell, couldn't blame her, but still.`` He stopped when his voice tightened and took a good gulp of his drink.
“I been figuring I'd hear from you eventually, when I bottomed out. Figured it'd happen pretty quick after filming that one, ta be real honest"
A crease developed between his brows, eyes squinting in confusion as Alastor put two and two together. He had not heard about the missing woman but it wasn't something he would keep on his radar, and he had been exceptionally busy helping Charlie with the hotel. His main practice was as security and deterrent as many guests hoped to recreate their own fantasies on the staff after the film they saw, but those ideas simply weren't permitted. After the first few publicly maimed would-be assailants the rest had calmed but it was still a chore.
"Angel, she never told you to stay away. She was mute for the first several weeks and ever since she has been writing you begging your return. Or begging I fetch you." The denial came out almost exasperated, unsure how such a message came to the spider but expecting him to know better than to think Charlie would have turned her back.
Another long drink, dull eyes pinned on Angel. "Have you not looked at your own contract then?"
Angel blinked, not having considered that the letter might have been a decoy. It took him a few minutes to begin to piece it all together, but eventually the realization stuck. He’d been played, not just once, but twice now. He could feel the anger beginning to rise, his face heating. It was strange to feel any emotion after so long, and almost a relief to find he could still feel anything at all.
"So you're sayin’ Charlie don't hate me for ruinin' everything, and she didn't send me tha letter ta stay away neither? " The look on Alastor’s face gave him all the answer he needed.
"Val you goddamned son of a bi--" he caught himself, stopped short. "Sorry. It just pisses me off." He really could have gone off for a good while, but a good look at Alastor’s expression brought him to the realization that neither he nor Alastor had the patience for it.
He shook his head in answer to the last question Alastor had asked. Honestly, he had put off looking at the contract on purpose.
“Nah. I really didn't wanna know how bad tha damage was. I’d been doin’ so damn good and then...that...happened. I just put it up for safekeeping and left it there." He smiled ruefully
"Guess I'd prefer ta not know when it's time for my ticket ta get punched."
Another drink, audible because if Alastor needed anything he needed his blood thinned and his thoughts quiet at the moment. "You didn't ruin anything but the visual innocence of a few people who may not have seen your anatomy in detail. The hotel has forty-three patients as of this morning." Gesturing with his bottle, the Overlord resigned himself to any number of reactions. "Read your contract." It had been frozen, the deer opting to believe that any behavior while outside his care as 'rehabilitator' was null and void due Valentino's directives. Unfortunately that meant Angel might have reason to get very angry. Or notice that meant he had demands he could make. Neither sounded like polite conversation.
Angel was processing what he'd just heard.
43 patients? Here?
He wasn’t a big enough idiot to call Alastor a liar, but he'd seen the broadcasts that the hotel had been closed down, he’d seen the articles in the papers and magazines about how it had failed and closed the doors.
He pulled the envelope from his pocket and opened it, glad that for once he could blame the shake in his hands on not having enough powder in his system. He carefully pulled out the parchment and meticulously unfolded it to reveal glowing red writing that illuminated and then faded. This wasn't possible. More points? An apology? This just didn’t add up and there was no way that Angel would make sense of it without asking. Good thing he wasn’t shy about requesting clarification.
"So, I have more than what I had, not less? And just why are you sorry? You sayin' you set all this up, ‘cause that seems like overkill, even for you." Angel didn’t believe (and didn’t want to believe) that Alastor had set all of this up just to ruin his chances of success. It just didn’t sound like Alastor’s style, not to mention that he couldn’t imagine Alastor using a porno to do anything, even if it meant collecting on a broken contract. There had to be more story to this.
He had meant to handle this with a few smooth words and maybe a laugh. Not a real one but he could force humor for anything. Instead Alastor found he couldn't say a word. Apologies didn't come easy or often to him but he had done something appalling and against his own code for the sake of moving his plans and Angel had suffered the blood in the water.
Unable to find his tongue, the Overlord instead reached into his desk and pulled out a folder containing pictures and references to the hotel. Detailed ones taken from an older style film but marking the areas of the hotel filmed. Everything needed for a man who had never stepped foot inside to create a likeness of the hotel. He tossed it across the desk, resuming his seat and staring with a smile that he couldn't feel anymore.
Angel Dust stared at the pictures, slowly flipping through them one by one. He took his time, scrutinizing each photograph, realizing, of course, their significance. As he reached the last one, he placed them back inside the folder and gently slid them toward Alastor. He sat with his eyes downcast for a moment. He was angry, sure, but he knew better than to launch an all out physical attack. He was also very aware that an apology from Alastor was probably more rare than a real fallen angel, and that counted for something, right? He took a breath, partially because he had forgotten how to breathe for a moment. The other part, of course, to help steady his nerves and keep calm. He was hurt, he was angry, yes, but he was also determined to hear the other side of this story. Surely there was a greater motive than simply trying to sabotage Angel’s success, wasn’t there? He held out his glass for a fill up, then quickly drained it, hoping to use the liquor to help calm and steady his nerves. When he brought his eyes back up to the other, he whispered "why?"
Alastor couldn't read Angel in that moment, tensing slowly as he awaited either tears which he couldn't handle or an attack which he simply wouldn't. Picking up the folder, it slowly burned in his hand. Ashes fell to the desk in curls as the Overlord watched.
"Because no one would expect me to. No one would blame you." He listed dully, pragmatic in those facts before his voice rose in the first inflection of anything bright in this storm. "And because Vox wants the credit for making Lucifer's daughter look like a whore." He chuckled lowly. "There were other benefits, yes, but I wanted to strip him. And no one will support him while the King cannot stand to hear his name." Gesturing softly he made it sound flippant in habit, the way he treated most of his schemes as simple jokes. If no one knew when he was serious it was all the better when he was.
Angel was stunned into uncharacteristic silence. He couldn't believe the things he was hearing, yet he knew that if he was going to decide what was true, he'd damn sure believe Alastor before Vox any day.
He didn't understand how Alastor could do such a thing, and yet, part of him could. The deer had never cut corners or sugar coated the fact that he was a bastard about things. He had never once tried to make himself into a saint or for that matter, a good person. Angel walked towards the door, but knew he couldn't leave right now. This conversation needed to happen, they both needed closure.
He was completely conflicted, but at the same time, he really couldn't hold Alastor any more culpable than he held himself. Alastor may have supplied pictures, but Angel did much more depraved things than that when the cameras had been rolling. He was truly no better. What good would it do to hate him now? What was done was done. But damned if he was going to let Valentino or Vox off the hook so easily. It might take some time, but Angel was going to make sure somebody paid for this. They hadn't just hurt Angel, they'd hurt the people he cared about as well. He wasn't inclined to let that go so easily. He slowly walked back to his seat and sat back down, well, more of a flop than a dignified sit. He didn't feel inclined to be completely polite at the moment. He was livid, and yet defeated. He didn't have the capacity to take on Alastor on a good day, let alone today. He would have to do some serious thinking and planning, but somehow he was going to collect his due from Valentino and Vox, mostly Vox. That goddamn overgrown box headed freak had gone too far this time. He had screwed over Angel, his friends, even Angel's personal life for what? Money? Bragging rights? Fuckin bastard. Angel was going to make sure that fucker got what he deserved, even if it took years. What else did either of them have but time?
As for Alastor, yeah, Angel was still pretty raw about it, but he had gotten an apology, along with quite a few points which Angel realized the significance of...he was now free to pursue quite a few liberties that he otherwise would not have been. It might not seem like a great sacrifice to an outsider, but the fullness of the gesture wasn't lost on Angel. Alastor had humbled himself enough to apologize, even tried to make a peace offering! Angel had never heard tell of such things from the overlord.
"Apology Accepted" he said quietly. It was really everything he'd needed to say. There was no need in dragging it out further.
The air left his lungs in a soft huff of almost laughter, surprised relief evident in the lines of his body. Alastor did not expect forgiveness, not really needing or wanting of it, but Angel took that better than he planned. Nodding, he seemed to perk up a bit.
"Well then, let us say the rest of the hotel is rather unawares and I think it best it stays that way." Running claws through his hair, futile to really tidy his haggard appearance, he continued on with a light hum of distorted static in the room.
"Would you like to return then? The others...miss you... and unless we are breaking our contract it would be prudent to see each other with less sneaking about." A wave at the contract and his smile twisted wryly. "I'm unsure what your feelings are on the matter, but you had been quite productive with the goals you set! Whatever they are." It was such a small blessing that the business of his days left him foggy on exactly what type of payment he owed Angel. Something with more fondling and bases and it was pure manners that even referenced it. But this was an open discussion, his mood blending a helpful hand towards a broader honesty he typically shied from.
Angel had grown so accustomed to his bleak days and more often than not, busy nights, that the thought of returning to the hotel, to the only place he'd ever felt he belonged, well, it sounded more like fantasy than reality. Of course he would dearly love to have some kind of freedom back within his reach. He had to admit, having a bit more physical space between himself and Valentino would be welcomed. As it was, Angel never had a choice about when he had guests, what he could do with his time, even if he had time. Angel hadn't bothered to concern himself with it because he hadn't felt he had a choice, but Valentino effectively controlled every aspect of his existence. Getting away a second time was going to be nearly impossible. He shifted in the chair, uncertain about how to word it correctly.
"Listen, I don't know how much ya know about my last six months, but I'm pretty sure Vee ain't gonna let me leave tha studio tower. He'd been on my ass for months ta come back there before all this went down. He's happier than a pig in shit now that I'm back there." Angel regarded the other with a grimace.
"What I'm sayin' is that what I want don't matter as much as what I'm allowed, an' I highly doubt Val's gonna allow it "
Alastor barked a loud laugh, not bothering to hide it and stood to circle his desk. Beside Angel he leaned a hip on the surface, crossing his arms to lean down at the spider with one of those smiles like he had said something ridiculous and cute but his tone was almost consoling. "I'm quite sure he is, but we haven't spoken on the matter. I asked what you wanted, my honest fellow, not what Valentino enjoys! The fact of the matter is you never checked out. You left, but you weren't excused. That makes you as much part of this hotel as the studio~"
Leaning closer, eye to eye, he held a finger to his lips as if disclosing a secret. "And he and I have an agreement about -my- hotel. He cannot actually stop you from returning for 'treatment'. Not. One. Bit." He poked Angel's nose, or the shallow space therein, with a soft chuckle.
"I'm quite sure he would be all hot 'n screaming if you knew, but you're only his when outside these walls. Unless he wants to take issue with my thoughts on the matter!" It was one of the few little benefits he had given Charlie when welcomed to partake of the hotel. While he had never carved out territory of his own the zone around his tower had become off limits to turf wars by sheer self preservation, only those in his favor choosing to live within the near empty streets. And by now it was well documented through gossip and photo evidence alike he had also staked some claim at the hotel. No grand declarations were needed to heed that it was under his protection and the deer was fiercely territorial.
Angel Dust was, in a word, speechless. How was it that everyone except him knew the ins and outs of his contracts better than he did? He'd spent all that time at the hotel previously, always worried that Val was going to decide to not let him return...heaven, how many times had Valentino threatened exactly that? Angel was sure that he couldn't count that high.
"Wait..." Angel Dust held up a hand, his other raised to his head, rubbing the back of his head in deep thought. "So's your tellin' me that he can't stop me from comin' back here if that's what I want to do?" He rubbed his hands down his face. "Ya know, you overlords are a real trip...and who's gonna make him follow tha rules anyway? I can tell him I wanna go, but tellin' an doin' it before he wipes me out is two really different things."
It wasn't a matter of not thinking Alastor was capable of making Valentino behave, but even the radio demon himself couldn't [and likely wouldn't want to] be around the studio all day to babysit. Who was gonna make sure Angel was allowed to come and go without serious bodily harm?
"That is exactly what I'm telling you." Point blank confirmation with a wave of his hand in a generous gesture. He had to blink, biting his lip to not laugh when Angel pointed out just how well trained he really was. Did he actually think Valentino would maim him so far as to kill him? Really? How precious. "This might be hard for you to grasp, my dear, but some of us think about the word 'eternity' rather often. Some fights aren't worth the bloodshed, especially when others know I'd rather dance in it than turn down the opportunity." Leaning back, still beside Angel but giving space as he twirled his cane once again between his fingers like a baton, he stopped tilting his head with a playful grin.
"I can prove it, if you're very, very quiet. Nothing from my rooms breathes the light of day~" In a sing song he added just a flare of threat, a crackle of radio distorted voices behind his. "Just tell me you wish to return."
Angel nodded, of course he would rather be back here...did anyone really believe that he would rather stay at the studio? "Yeah...yes. Yes! It ain't even a question.”
Alastor nodded, raising his microphone towards himself with another quick reminder for Angel to be quiet. A sharp flutter of stations changing and then a soft beep as he rang the pimp's personal desk phone. It trilled for a few moments before being picked up.
"Said I didnt want calls ta'day, who the fuck is being stupid?" Valentino answered with a gruff biting growl that died when he heard the answering "Hello!"
"Well you don't call too often, what's the pleasure baby?" There was an immediate change in tone, no irritation to be found. "Haven't heard your voice in months...ya miss me?" When he continued Alastor's smile twitched and he tried not to look away from Angel.
"Oh no, you know you can tune in any day, my friend. The Radio never dies!" He laughed and it caused a sharp sound of interference. The pimp audibly hissed in pain. "No, I'm calling about Angel Dust~ How is he?" Even speaking he kept one finger up, knowing this was going to be awkward and eye opening for the poor star but as long as he was good he could stay.
This was an interesting turn of events, that was certain. Angel Dust had almost audibly winced at the tone Valentino had used when answering. It was terribly familiar, and in all the worst ways. He'd never heard that gruff tone without at least enduring an ear ringing cuff, and usually more than that. He was bewildered at the complete change of tone when he realized to whom he was speaking. In the over 70 years he'd been with Valentino, Angel had never, ever, not under any circumstances seen him back down and change his tone with anyone, ever. It might've been almost impossible for Angel Dust--especially Angel Dust to keep his trap shut, but somehow he was gonna manage to do so, because no fuckin' way was he gonna miss this.
Valentino groaned and there was a click as he turned on speaker mode, resuming his keystrokes as a soft background clatter. "How the fuck you think he is? That stunt put him in th'sugar like a fly in shit. It's a fuckin' chore just to get him to look at me without going all plastic and yeah, sure, I like the work he's puttin' out but I had to actually order him to stand down. Ha! Stand down, get it? Oh naw, fuck you don't. But seriously, I knew this was fucked up shit but when did he get all sentimental on me?" The typing got harsher, the insect taking out his obvious frustration on his computer. Alastor just hummed the soft sounds of a listening audience until his rant ended with a clink of ice in a glass.
"So I take it there's flames in paradise?" He prodded, not at all sensitive and Valentino growled. "Yeah, Bambi, there's fuckin' flames and not the hot ones. When I agreed to this shit I didnt think you was gonna take both fuckin' hands! The other day I coulda swore he'd fucking have walked into extermination rather than just..." The air went dead with a low sigh, the giant demon stopping all work to take a long drag on his cigar. Alastor had to pry him back to the conversation. "Val~?"
"Red...I just want my baby back. The happy one, the one that fuckin' fought me and did deals behind my back. Ya know? The feisty lil shit, not this thing that flinches in my bed. You don't get what that does ta me..." Valentino scrubbed his face with a palm as he spoke, confiding in privacy he didn't know was wider than normal. This was the first chance he'd had to unload on Alastor and he took it with a tone of practiced ease. And Alastor did listen, brows drawn up with a crease although his eyes were heavy on Angel with two messages. Stay quiet. Enjoy the show.
Angel was glad he'd been sitting down, because he would have most definitely fallen over at hearing the things Valentino had just said. He didn't...couldn't understand how Vee could be so open with Alastor regarding the very personal things he'd just discussed, and it was beginning to dawn on Angel that perhaps there was much more to both Valentino and Alastor than he would've ever guessed. It looked to Angel Dust like maybe he'd sold both of them short.
Then there was the entire situation with Angel Dust. He realized that he had been working extra hard, but wasn't that exactly what Val had always wanted from him? He was sure that's what he'd always said he wanted from Angel Dust. He wasn't sure of what to think of this. He had changed everything that Valentino had ever found fault with, he had become perfect for the pimp only to hear that he preferred the old Angel Dust. Wasn't that just the shits? It did give him some comfort in knowing that Val hadn't been the one concocting the entire situation. Angel silently nodded his head, acknowledging that he would stay quiet.
Alastor took a deep breath, feigning a grudging reluctance that didn't match his bright eyes. "I know we think very differently, but perhaps you've been over working him? My own always are so much--"
"You spoil your pets like a fuckin' saint, Al! The only work they do is puttin' up with your shit!" Valentino interrupted him, the growl in his voice rising again. "Don't tell me how to run my whores, not even Angel Dust! He likes his work. Like the sex, the drugs, and I ain't gonna take that shit from him just so he could decide to fucking off himself thinking bout some new bred guilt he shoulda aborted before naming it and taking it to heart." Angry and loud, a glass snapping hard on his desk but Alastor just chuckled soothingly.
"I would never tell you your business, my dear, but sit back. Take your hat off. And quit looking at your telly box for a moment." It was smooth but firm and the deer waited a moment, as if actually expecting obedience. But the soft sounds and a click, he got it too.
"Alright, babe, I'm thinking." Valentino was quiet, seething.
"Now, what's been on your mind. Under all that weight." Alastor pried, his full charisma making his voice almost sinfully convincing as he led the pimp to talk with soft tugs of tone.
Silence. Then...
"If I let him go out, do you think he'd forgive me? I ain't gonna ask, you know we dont do that shit. S'fucking dumb. But... think they'd take him back? Would...you?" It was tentative but still strong, the tone of one powerful man testing the waters with another and the prior openness missing. It made Alastor scoff, a wicked smile spreading across his lips. A perfect opportunity just arose and he couldn't find the heart to care about the abuse of trust. Valentino was known for his 'hearts', not the Radio Demon.
Very carefully his shadow rose, covering Angel's mouth to assist his silence. "Sounds like you're asking me for a favor, but lost your manners. Did you want to try again~ I'm about done listening to you rant." The deer had the audacity to twirl a piece of hair in his claws, sitting back as he waited for the expected response. Well, what he expected. He couldn't smile wider when Valentino delivered. A strange little ploy in the game they played but it made him smile at the only other person who would ever live to hear it.
"Would...you take my Angel back to the shithole and...help me fix him? Please...Daddy".