Chapter Text
Angel joins the rest of the old guard for their nightly chat around the bar. Not long ago he looked forward to their unofficial little meeting time. Right after they defeated the exorcists, they’d had new residents to gossip about and plans for the future to make. Lately conversation's been more depressing as Charlie spirals over what to do about Vox, how to get someone else redeemed before all out war breaks out, and how to convince residents to stay despite the lack of angel killing and Vox's propaganda. Before Charlie went and invited fucking Vox to the hotel, he was happy to help brainstorm. These days he mostly just comes so he can get a drink and commiserate with Husk and Cherri once Charlie heads to bed.
As always, he sits on the far left side of the bar with Cherri to his right, a buffer between him and Charlie on her other side. Vaggie takes the last barstool on the right. Husk is, of course, behind the bar divvying out drinks. Niffty sits on the counter top most nights, though at the moment she's standing so she can frantically dust a deer skull that's just slightly out of her reach. Vaggie looks like she's debating trying to help, but is too beat after a day of running all over the hotel to give a shit. Angel can sympathize, he's had a long day himself. Starting bright and early with therapy and trust exercises that did not successfully redeem him, and then spending the rest of it in one of the most uncomfortable shoots of his life at work. The sex itself wasn't even that bad, but Val's had a stick up his ass for the last few weeks and it's starting to wear on everybody in the studio. He's done what he can to try and fuck it out of him, but whatever's pissing him off doesn't seem to be related to Angel, and he won't talk about it, so he's at a loss for how to fix it. Safe to say, the mood isn’t very lively tonight. Even Niffty seems a little down and out, which is rare. And of course Charlie livens the mood even further by bringing up a topic they’ve all been avoiding for weeks now.
"I haven’t seen a sign of Alastor in ages. Vox used to have him on TV all the time. Do you think- I mean, something must've happened, right?" She questions, unable to voice the obvious conclusion. If Vox has stopped showing off his captured Radio Demon, then maybe there's not much left of him to show off.
Husk sighs, "I've told you a hundred times, princess, you shouldn't worry about him. He walked into this mess himself! There wasn't any reason for him to surrender to the Vees, we had 'em on the ropes. He's up to something, he always is."
Charlie swishes the apple juice in her glass miserably, "What could he possibly be planning that he needed to get captured for? Why couldn't he tell us what's going on?"
Grabbing a bottle of rum to mix up another drink for Cherri, Husk grumbles, "Who cares? He and Vox are always up to some crazy shit. Better to stay out of the way. There's usually a fuck ton of collateral damage when they get anywhere near each other." Charlie still doesn't look reassured, so he continues, "Look, I know you know I don't give a shit about Alastor. But Niffty's not worried either, and she cares about him!"
"Smart boy said he's fine!" Niffty reassures from where she's finally settled on the counter next to Vaggie's elbow, legs swinging wildly through the air.
"Smart boy?" Charlie asks.
"Baxter? Why would he know?" Vaggie asks.
"Probably cuz he works for VoxTek." Cherri says.
"Wait, what?" Vaggie grips her glass hard enough a hairline crack forms. Charlie's eyes nearly bug out of her head. Husk just eyes the broken glass wearily.
Angel lets that sink in and shrugs, "Makes sense. Looks like someone Vox would hire."
"Cherri, how do you know that?" Vaggie demands in her exorcist drill sargeant voice.
Not intimidated, Cherri just shrugs, "He told me a while ago."
"And why didn't you tell any of us?" Vaggie barks.
"I mean, I figure if he's a spy he's a shitty one, just admitting that to me. Plus he spends all day in the basement, what's he gonna learn down there? And Charlie let fucking Vox in here, so the damage is pretty much already done, right?" Cherri lists off.
Wincing at the reminder, Charlie deflects, "But why hasn't he said anything? Or why didn't you, Niffty?" Coming from anyone else it'd sound accusatory. Charlie just sounds plaintive.
"You didn't ask." Niffty bursts out, "And also that's all I know!" Her eye shifts around wildly as if waiting for an interrogation.
"Easy, Niff. You can tell us if you want. We won't go spilling any secrets." Husk says soothingly.
"Nope!" Agitated, Niffty shoots to her feet on the bar top, "Can't!"
Husk groans, "He ordered you not to, right?" Niffty leans in close, as if to tell him a secret, and nods once. Husk casts his eyes to the group and gestures emphatically at Niffty, "See? Does that sound like someone who wants us sticking our necks out for him? Alastor does this shit all the time. He fucked off for seven years without a word to anybody! At least this time we know where he is.” Niffty nods along sagely.
Cherri shrugs, “He’s got a point there.”
Charlie looks around the group, taking in the lack of fucks being given with disappointment, "You haven't seen him around, have you, Angel?" she asks, timidly hopeful.
Angel shakes his head, "I don't go anywhere near Vox if I can help it. Besides, there's all sorts'a weird places they could be keeping 'im in that fucking tower. Val's got dungeons, but they're like, sex dungeons. You don't really keep people there long term. And I've been in all of 'em recently, he's not there. Vox's department, there's mostly just cubicles and shit. I dunno if he really has a dungeon. Though he's got labs, maybe he's in there. In like a tube or somethin', like in the movies?" Charlie turns faintly green, and Vaggie clears her throat loudly, "But that doesn't feel like Vox's style. He'd probably keep him in a dark room with thousands of cameras pointed at him all day. Or y'know he's got these creepy fucking sharks, maybe he's got 'im like hanging over them in a cage-" Vaggie coughs loudly, interrupting him, "Jeez, Vagella, you need another drink or something?"
"Ew, that's not it." Cherri cringes.
"Nah, definitely not." Angel agrees, "The point is, Alastor's gonna be like a needle in a haystack in Vee Tower, except there's also a voyeuristic lunatic shuffling the needle around any time you get close to finding it." He does feel a teeny, tiny bit bad about the crestfallen look that puts on Charlie's face, but he's just trying to be realistic here! You hand yourself over to a rival Overlord, especially one as cruel and sadistic as Vox, you gotta know you're gonna be in for a world of hurt, at best. At worst, Alastor was probably shark food weeks ago! Charlie does a really good impression of a kicked puppy, though, and it's making it hard for him to keep his mouth shut, "Listen, I can't promise anything, but I'll keep an eye out for him, alright?"
She brightens up immediately, jumping to her feet to wrap him in a hug, "Thank you, Angel!" she cries, and he prays he hasn't gotten her hopes up just to crush them.
So Angel looks. He shows up to work early, comes in different entrances. Keeps his eyes open for flashes of red, ears open for a tinny voice. He never catches sight of the man himself, but he does get interesting tidbits here and there. Worried whispers of misbehaving coworkers going missing and not reappearing in pieces in the shark tanks, or with bullets through their skulls. Hours where the lab floors are cleared out of everyone but a few necessary staff sworn to secrecy. Rumors of Vox and his assistant taking repeated trips to Velvette's floor bearing what appear to be gifts. Which shines an interesting light on why Val's been so bitchy lately. Surely he's not jealous of Velvette though? There's plenty of rumors that he and Velvette have fucked at least once, so he shouldn't care if Vox is flirting with her, right? Is Vox flirting with her? He didn't think Vox liked women all that much. Vox only seems to like two people, as far as he can tell, and he only fucks one of them.
In need of more intel, Angel decides to try chatting up the other departments while he’s on his breaks. The labs are too far from the studio to reasonably get to during a smoke break, and the nerds rarely sit in the common areas anyways, so they're out. Velvette's models are hard to get close to. Back in the day, there was a bit of a rivalry between Valentino and Velvette, and it carried over to their performers. Even though their bosses seem to get on alright for the most part these days, the animosity still lingers, so it’s hard to get any of them to talk. The designers are less suspicious of him, though, and he ends up making the acquaintance of a cute bear (in multiple meanings of the word) who's been keeping an eye on the drama unfolding between their bosses. Apparently Vox isn't visiting Velvette, but the prisoner being kept on her floor. Why the fuck they’re keeping Alastor there is a mystery - of all the Vees he suspected Velvette of having a proper dungeon the least - but it poses an interesting problem for him. He's never dealt with Velvette personally, but he knows Val has a habit of tearing up her top models, and he's Val's top whore. If he shows up at her doorstep, it would kinda be a waste for her to not off him.
His new buddy proves very helpful after some sweet talking in a broom closet, though, and Angel gets enough info to formulate a plan. Velvette will be out of office at a show in a few days, and Alastor's being kept in employee housing on the west side of the building. Technically, he's not forbidden from being on Velvette's floor, he could be visiting anyone up there! He just has to casually walk in, then walk allllll the way down the hall, and do a life check on Alastor. Then he can reassure Charlie that he's still alive, and feel a little less bad about this whole mess himself. Al's an Overlord, he's hardly a saint, but Angel knows what it's like to be on Vox’s bad side and it ain’t fun! The least he can do for someone he fought a fucking exorcist army with is offer some comfort while he's captured, even if Husk's right and he did it to himself.
On the big day the plan starts out smoothly. His buddy assures him that Velvette's left for the day and he heads up to her floor. There's not much hope of disguising himself, so he just owns it. Wow, famous porn star Angel Dust is on the wrong floor! Nothing to see here! Most people are too busy to gawk at him anyways. He's making his way down the quiet, well lit corridor of staff housing (much more chic than what Val offers, he's gotta say) when disaster strikes.
"Lost?" Asks a crisp, news-ready voice. Literally the last voice Angel ever wants to hear anywhere, much less this close to where Alastor's being kept. The hairs on his arms stand on end, only partially because of the sudden static in the air.
"Vox!" He chuckles nervously, turning to face the Overlord, "I guess I got kinda turned around, I was looking for a friend a' mine's place."
"Hmmm," Vox makes a show of contemplating his answer, "Is that so? You aren't distracting Velvette's employees during work hours, I hope. I wouldn't want to have to take any disciplinary actions!" He voice rattles low out of his speakers, savoring the idea.
Angel waves his arms nervously, "Oh, no, of course not! We met during our breaks and hit it off! Listen, I can get outta your way, I'm sure you're busy, I'll just-" he's not going to stop by later. That's what he would say if he really was looking for a friend's place but that's not going to make Vox happy at all, "I'll meet up with him some other time, no biggie." He takes a tiny step forward, but Vox doesn't budge.
Instead his smile grows, sharp and predatory, "Come now Angel Dust, don't lie to me. You think I haven't seen what you've been up to lately? Asking an awful lot of questions. Do you think you're paid to be asking all these fucking questions?"
He prowls forward, forcing Angel to retreat down the dead end hallway. "N-no, Vox."
With a low chuckle, Vox demands, "Is this the best rescue party the princess can come up with? A single crack whore, months too late? What a great plan too! Just walk right in! Does she think I'm that fucking stupid? Alastor's mine now, and nobody from her fucking hotel is going anywhere near him again, got it?"
Angel grimaces, the possessiveness in Vox’s voice making him suddenly, illogically, protective of Alastor, "You're such a creepy fuck. I'm just making sure he's still alive! What are you doing to him that I can't even see?"
Lightning quick Vox grabs him by the collar, reeling him down so they're face to face, "What part of Alastor's mine was unclear? Nobody looks at him unless I allow it. And why the fuck would I allow a worthless whore anywhere near what's mine?"
A door creaks open behind him, but Angel doesn't dare turn around. Vox glances over his shoulder and his expression brightens instantly. “Alastor!" he says in a tone that gives Angel whiplash. He's only heard Vox sound like that a few times, usually right before buying Val ten dozen roses or a diamond necklace or an entire island. Vox releases his collar and takes a sharp step away.
As he's regaining his balance, Angel glances to his left, and holyshitAlastorisrightthere. It takes every ounce of willpower not to flinch. Despite the whole Radio Demon thing, Angel usually has a hard time being properly scared of Alastor what with the excessively red theme and ridiculous accent. Fuck, the guy has fluffy little ears! How's he supposed to be scared of that? As far as Angel’s concerned, he’s just one of many eccentric weirdos at the hotel. But something about him silently appearing at his side, the steady, unimpressed way he sizes up Vox, screams predator to Angel’s hind brain. He feels like he's in one of those Jurassic Park movies, being saved from the T-rex by a velociraptor.
"What's all the commotion about?" Alastor asks, voice drier than the Wrath ring. He crosses his arms in front of himself like a disappointed school teacher, claws tapping impatiently on his upper arm.
Vox smiles winningly, "Oh, nothing, just sending a lost whore on his way." Angel can take a hint. He starts to duck past Vox, but Alastor stops him with a feather light touch of claws on his arm.
"No need, my dear, Angel and I were just about to have tea." He says serenely. Dread curls in Angel's throat, thick enough to choke on. He's never doing a good deed again.
Vox's warm smile is frozen on his face, but his eyes are telling a very different and murderous story, "Really?"
"Yes, really," Alastor snaps, unfazed, "I'm bored, darling. Can't I have a moment to catch up with an acquaintance?" Darling? Angel can't help the way his jaw drops at that.
Electricity sparks ominously across Vox’s screen, “Bored, huh? And you want Angel Dust to entertain you?”
“He’s already here,” Alastor insists, “He might as well make himself useful.”
Oh that was not the right choice of words. Vox takes an ominous step forward, sparks arcing wildly off his body. Alastor’s eyes narrow, holding his ground as Angel takes an instinctive step back. Vox leans into Alastor’s space, “I’m way better company than him. You could always come back to the penthouse-”
“Not like that, you dog!” Alastor scolds, “He’d hardly be interested in what I have anyways. We’re just going to have tea! That isn’t one of your ridiculous euphemisms, is it?” He turns his head slightly to aim the question at Angel, but he’s too busy trying to wrap his head around the many, many implications of Vox’s offer to respond.
Fortunately, Vox fires back, “He’s a whore, Alastor, that doesn’t matter!”
“I’m sure it does if I don’t have anything to pay him with!” Alastor retorts, “You’re always so busy, sweetheart, I just want someone to chat with while you’re at work.” He lays it on thick, a pouting, cutesy voice that makes Angel’s brain hurt.
Vox scoffs, “Seriously? You think I’m going to fall for that?”
There’s victory in Alastor’s voice when he says, “I don’t know what you mean.”
Somehow Vox crowds even further into Alastor’s space, and then puts an arm around his waist. Alastor silently allows Vox to pull him into his chest, “You’re obviously trying to get a message back to the hotel, Al.” He says, low and forbidding, right against Alastor’s ear. It flicks sharply, just once.
“Why would I need to do that?” Alastor retorts, one hand coming up to gently push Vox away, “You’ll be able to hear every word we say regardless.”
Caught off guard, Vox lets Alastor shove him away. He looks despairingly at the ceiling for a moment before throwing up his hands, “Fine! Have tea with fucking Angel Dust, if you want to so bad.” He forces his expression back into a charming smile, “You know I was going to take you out for lunch, and I have something nice for you-”
"We can meet for dinner, sweetheart." Alastor says indulgently. Angel's brain is about to fall out of his ear holes, holy shit.
In response, Vox blushes, bright blue and obvious. What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck, "Sounds like a date. I'll see you tonight." He says softly. The tone of voice, the way he leans towards Alastor almost subconsciously, Angel is expecting him to go in for a kiss. Instead he casts one last furious look Angel's way and leaves.
Angel resists sighing in relief. He's still gotta deal with the velociraptor after all. "Thanks, Smiles," he says, hoping that acting like they've just run into each other at the hotel is the right call.
"Of course, old chap! Come on then." He turns back to the door at the end of the hall.
Angel looks into the shadowy room in horror, "Uh, what?"
Alastor flicks an ear back at him, "We're having tea." He says pointedly.
He was being serious about that? Shit. "Right, yeah, of course," he laughs nervously as he follows. He's never been in Alastor's room at the hotel. Vaggie has, because she's got balls of fucking steel, and what she described is pretty similar to Alastor's new room in Vee Tower. The front of the room is an old fashioned parlor, with a heavy wood wardrobe separating it from the bed area. Where the back wall should be a marsh stretches out into an impossible distance. Vaggie mentioned actual living animals in there, but thankfully he doesn’t see any alligators waiting to take a bite out of him.
Alastor leads Angel over to a pair of lumpy leather chairs on either side of a small table in the parlor area. He waves his hand and a tea set appears out of green mist, simple silver with antlers and symbols printed on in an elaborate pattern. Angel is about to sit, but as Alastor turns to do the same he finally gets a good look at him and forgets how. He's always had a figure that Angel's been a little jealous of, especially considering he can swallow entire schmucks whole and still look like he hasn't eaten for a week. Now he's slightly round in the middle, just enough to put strain on the last button of his coat. Maybe he's just put on some prisoner weight, but it looks suspiciously like something else. Angel forces his eyes back up, swallowing with difficulty around his abruptly dry mouth. Alastor is looking at him with narrowed eyes above his toothy grin.
Don't say anything, Tony. Don't fucking mention it unless he does. "Seems like they're feeding you well?" He squeaks out. Fuck his giant mouth.
Alastor's eyes narrow further. And then he barks a sharp, sudden laugh, "You could say that! Sit down, chum, tell me how you've been. How’s the hotel faring in my absence?"
Angel sits and sips Alastor's overly strong tea and tells him about the latest drama at the hotel. It’s not like there’s anything new or interesting in his personal life - just work and dealing with Val, the usual - so he fills him in on how Charlie got in an almost-fight with one of the residents over a rumor that she’s keeping Sir Pentious in the basement to hide that he never actually got redeemed. When he tries to prod Alastor to talk about how he’s been doing, Al just waves a hand and demands to hear more about the hotel. So he finds himself failing to not laugh while he relates Charlie’s attempt to distribute hundreds of hand-made fliers touting the hotel’s virtues. Sadly, that brilliant venture failed because it acid rained the day she decided to give them out and they all dissolved. Alastor listens, amused, and Angel tries to glean anything from his careful, smiling mask. His posture is perfect as ever. His belligerently cheerful demeanor is unwavering. The ragged hem of his coat has been fixed. His eyes look horribly tired. At one point he almost sets a hand on the ominous bulge in his middle, then pulls it away as if he's been scalded. He seems to genuinely enjoy hearing about the hotel, cackling at Charlie’s desperate attempts to combat Vox. Honestly, he isn't bad company, and Angel loses track of time. His heart drops to the floor when his phone rings and he sees Val's caller ID, ten minutes past when he should've been on set.
Alastor doesn't seem too annoyed with him when he looks back up, cringing apologetically, "Sorry, I gotta take this."
"By all means! It was lovely to catch up Angel Dust." He gets to his feet and shows Angel to the door magnanimously. "And don't worry about the Vees, I'll make sure you don't run into any trouble over this. I've just been dying for some fresh company lately!"
"Listen, Al, I know you probably can't say much, but you're okay, right? They're not, I mean Vox isn't -" there's cameras fucking everywhere, he can't say it out loud. He's not even sure what he thinks is happening anymore. He was bracing himself to find him chained to a wall somewhere, or a pile of discarded remains, maybe the tatters of his coat tossed in a bin. If Alastor was even alive, he absolutely didn't expect him to be holding court in a nice apartment on Velvette's level, apparently able to tell Vox to fuck off whenever he wants.
"Your concern is sweet,” Alastor says, condescendingly polite, “But I hardly need a lowly sinner like yourself worrying about me! I'm perfectly fine! Absolutely nothing to write home about, right, Angel?" The hall lights flicker and die, so all Angel can see is the red glow of Alastor's eyes and the pulsing illumination from his teeth as he speaks. Static buzzes so loud Angel feels it rattling in his bones, filling his head with cotton and making his vision blur.
"Y-yep! You look great! Absolutely thriving!" He wants so badly to just escape down the hall and never think about whatever the fuck is going on here ever again. But he can’t go back to the hotel with nothing after all this. He probably won’t get another chance to see him, “You sure there’s nothing you want me to tell Charlie?”
Alastor seems a bit surprised that he didn't run. He blinks, returning to his normal goofy looking self, and says, "Of course not. I can handle my own affairs, Angel Dust.”
For a moment, Angel thinks he feels how Charlie must’ve when he told her to let him handle Val. He, however, knows when to mind his own damn business. "Fair enough. Good luck with that, Smiles. Thanks for the tea!"
"The pleasure was all mine pal! I'll be seeing you around!" And he slams his door shut. Angel takes a moment to gather himself in the empty hallway before making his way back to the studio.
The shoot goes surprisingly well. Val is angry, of course, but he doesn't take it out on Angel any more than he normally would. Just a few more takes of a flogging scene than were probably necessary and a very aggressive fuck after, and then he's free to make his way back to the hotel. He wonders if Alastor actually has enough sway over Vox that he can tell him to order Val around, or if Val is just saving most of his temper for whatever the fuck is going on with his business partner and Alastor. What exactly Angel’s going to tell everyone about what Vox and Alastor have going on is a tough question. Obviously, they’re fucking, and have been for some time if the state Alastor’s in is any indication. He didn’t get to the fluttering his lashes and sticking his tits out stage, but that cooing tone of voice he used on Vox is one Angel’s put on plenty of times to get Val in a better mood. Husk said that Alastor offered to be Vox’s prisoner, but that’s really not what it looks like at all. It looks a hell of a lot more like Alastor’s found a new sugar daddy. Wait, does that mean Charlie was his sugar mommy before? Angel shakes that thought out of his head. The important thing is that Alastor doesn’t seem to be in need of saving. Which is good, because if he did, Angel’s not sure how he or anyone else at the hotel could help. The way Husk described the deal it’s pretty straightforward, the only way he can think to break it is to get Vox to hurt Charlie somehow. And if Alastor made the deal to keep Charlie safe, then that just defeats the purpose, right? Angel just has to figure out how to reassure everyone that Alastor’s fine without revealing that he’s got a bun in the oven. Honestly, he should probably skip over the fact that Alastor’s fucking Charlie’s greatest nemesis too.
When he walks through the hotel doors, Charlie’s on him instantly, "Oh my goodness Angel you're late are you okay what happened you didn't get in trouble did you is that a bruise?" She fires at him without once taking a breath.
Angel tugs his sleeve over his wrist. Damn, he thought he'd gotten all of those covered! "Sorry, toots, shoot ran a little late is all. But I did find our missing host!"
Charlie, easily distracted as ever, gasps, "Really? That's amazing! Is he okay? Do we need to go rescue him? He's not in a tube right!?"
"Uh, no he's not in a tube. He's alright! Let's get everyone together so I only have to say it once." He suggests.
They gather in a lounge upstairs away from the prying ears of other guests. Angel claims a seat on one of the dark purple couches arranged in a circle in the depression in the middle of the room. Cherri slumps against his side, and he subtly rearranges her so her elbow isn't sticking in the big bruise there. Even though it's already starting to heal, it's pretty sore. Husk sits across from them, sullen about having to think about Alastor again. Charlie perches impatiently at the edge of her seat next to Husk, leg bouncing restlessly. Niffty scurries around the room picking up invisible pieces of lint while they wait for Vaggie to show up. She seems nervous, and Angel wonders if he should've tried to talk to her before spilling the beans to everyone else. If he gives too much away will she be in trouble? Will she stab him? How much does she even know?
Vaggie finally trudges in, mildly damp and with a shell-shocked look on her face. "Finally!" Charlie bursts out as soon as he comes through the door, and then blinks, "Are you okay baby?"
Vaggie perches on a rickety wooden chair at the edge of the conversation pit instead of joining the rest of them, shoving wet bangs out of her good eye with a forced smile, "Fine, sweetie, just had some issues with the plumbing. What did you find out, Angel?"
As Angel starts describing his meeting with Alastor, Niffty comes to sit next to him, listening intently. Everyone seems just as confused as he was when he recalls the interaction between Alastor and Vox, except for maybe Husk, who just looks tired. It probably makes even less sense to them, since he has to leave out several parts of the conversation to keep their relationship hidden. Despite how it felt when he was trapped in that hallway with them, it wasn’t actually that long now that he recounts it back to everyone else. He really didn’t get much information out of Alastor when they sat down to talk, either. All he can offer is that Alastor’s alive and not being tortured, and Vox is being a weirdly accommodating and possessive warden.
"I'm glad he's okay, but that's... Not what I expected." Charlie says.
"Shit, sounds like he's having a great time!" Husk grumbles.
Cherri scoffs, “No kidding! What a dick, fucking off and leaving us to deal with Vox’s bullshit. You think he could’a just told him to fuck off when he stopped by the hotel?”
Vaggie frowns, uneasy, “I thought he and Vox hated each other? Doesn’t this seem kind of weird?”
“You’re telling me!” Angel agrees, “I felt like I was having a stroke!”
“No, I mean like suspiciously weird,” Vaggie clarifies, “Vox shows up at the hotel, and the next day Alastor's picking fights and getting kidnapped. Isn't that timing strange? And now we know he's not even in danger there.”
"You think Vox convinced him to leave?" Charlie asks skeptically, "He could've just quit and joined up with the Vees, he didn't need to pick a fight."
"But that fight sure gave Vox a boost, didn't it? What if that was the agreement? Vox gives Alastor a cushy place to stay in return for helping to discredit the hotel?" Vaggie suggests.
"Now that's just ridiculous!" Husk scoffs, "If Alastor wanted to leave he'd find a new place on his own, he wouldn't need Vox's help. Not to mention he and that flat faced fuck have been fighting for decades, even if he did need help he wouldn't go to him!"
"Really? If they're such big enemies, why hasn't Alastor just killed him like he did all those other overlords?" Vaggie glances around at everyone's disturbed faces, "Listen, I'm not saying I like the idea, but there's a lot of shit that isn't adding up here, right?"
Unfortunately, Angel can see where she's coming from. Though maybe it's not as dire as she's thinking. Given what he knows, it seems more likely Alastor had an impulsive hate fuck with his rival and ended up with an unexpected souvenir. Getting conveniently kidnapped until he pops would be an easy way to hide it. Kinda surprising that Alastor wouldn’t just terminate it, but he is pretty old fashioned, and it’s not like Angel can really judge anyone else’s love life too harshly. He's just not sure how to make Alastor look less suspicious without giving up the secret.
Niffty, practically vibrating with indignation, announces, "Alastor is NOT working with that bad boy!"
Vaggie's mouth twists unhappily, "Did he order you to say that?"
Charlie's jaw drops, "Vaggie!"
Husk gets to his feet with a huff, "So that's how it is, huh? You think me and Niff are in on it?"
Vaggie raises her hands in surrender, “No! I mean, I don’t know! I don’t even really know what ‘it’ is! Just - none of this makes sense! Why’s Alastor even at the hotel in the first place? I mean, he can’t really expect us to believe he was just here for entertainment.”
Losing steam, Husk flops back on the couch, “Don’t waste your time trying to figure out why the fuck Alastor does anything, it’ll only drive you crazy.”
Charlie twiddles her fingers anxiously, “I know Alastor wasn’t the most, er, cooperative right before he left. But he’s been with us from the start. We probably wouldn’t all be here if he hadn’t fought with us! I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt for now.”
“I agree,” Angel speaks up, “I don’t think he’s been trying to help Vox, that’s not the vibe I got. There’s something else going on. I’ll keep my ear to the ground and see what else I can figure out.”
Husk gives him a worried look, “Don’t get yourself in trouble, Legs.”
Angel gives him a carefree smile in return, “Who, me? You know I can handle myself. Besides, this’ll be fun, like being a detective or something.”
Charlie looks tepidly hopeful, “Thanks, Angel, but Husk is right, be careful. Especially if Alastor wants us to stay out of the way, we should respect his boundaries.”
Angel decides not to comment on that. Maybe she's actually learned her lesson this time! Regardless, the rest of the team seems content to let the matter go, so mission accomplished. He failed his is way to success! Story of his life! Vaggie even seems relieved to have her concerns ignored this time. Probably because if they kicked Husk and Niffty out because of suspicions about Alastor they’d have no staff left. He tries not to think too hard about how, if Alastor was plotting their downfall with Vox, making sure the hotel was staffed entirely by souls he owns would be a pretty smart move. For now, he's gonna save all his brain power to figure out how to keep snooping without pissing Vox off. He can worry about their potential impending doom later.