Let The Radio Play《 Alastor x Reader 》

Bad Decisions

"So where is this, anyway?" I ask, pouring the bottles one by one into the shaker.

"The 'Happy' Hotel." Air quotes included. "Some shit about redeeming sinners, rehabil.. rehabilititat--, ah fuck, whatever, sending them up to heaven."

"You're kidding, right?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow and leaning my back against the opposite corner of the bar shaking the drink.

"Nope." He grins.

"Does it work?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Husk raises his voice, shrugging.

"Not a believer, eh?" I laugh, breaking the seal off the glass and setting the shaker back down. "Fair enough. Do you know about Mimzy's club? There was an attack on it last night, I don't know if Mimzy's okay or how bad the damage is."

I sip the glass, confused by the look on Husk's face. "What?"

"That was three days ago, kid."

I almost spit the liquid back into the cup. I swallow hard instead. "What?!"

"Yeah. Mimzy made it out and the club is fine now. She's opening back up tomorrow night I think. Alastor fixed it up yesterday. The whole fucking city is waiting to see what he does to Vox."

Husk pins his back against the bar, contemplating me.

"That why you're here? You were in the club?"

"Yeah. I work there. Worked?" I'm not sure if its past or present tense. "I'll have to go check it out. What time is it?"

Husk lazily looks at the clock on the wall. "It's eleven. At night."

Explains why the hotel is empty.

"So tomorrow then!" I laugh, smiling.

The ridiculousness of how long I've been out, paired with my arrival in hell, seems to be taking its toll.

Husk and I talk, bantering back and forth for several hours. He tells me of his arrival in hell, and he listens to mine begrudgingly. He really isn't a bad guy.

I've noticed that he actually wants company, even though it's the last thing he'd admit. Talking stories of home for me, stories of Husk's escapades in hell.

Opening up, whether it was from the conversation or the alcohol, Husk got back to bartending. Slinging up drinks for me to try, and I in turn made him several of my own.

Before I know it, I'm rinsing two high ball glasses with Absinthe.

"Okay okay okay, hang on. I got one with some bite for ya." I giggle. My head is fuzzy.

"This isn't shit is it?" Husk adds, leaning in.

"No!" I retort back, adding a lemon peel and sugar cube. "Gotta give it three sips before ya tell me what ya think, got it?"

"Yeah yeah! You like your fancy shit, huh? It's booze sweetheart, I'm guaranteed to drink it. You dont need to make it all flashy." His head keeps leaning in and I have to pull the glass away from him. "It comes out all the fucking same!"

I finish the first Sazerac, sliding it across the bar. Husk follows it not only with his eyes but with his whole body. I shake my head and can't stop giggling.

I tip my head down, pouring out the second Sazerac. I sigh happily, staring at the finished glass of fancy shit, as Husk said.

A blackened hand, crimson fingertips curl around the glass. I look up with a start, eyes wide. I hadn't heard anyone come in, not that I was paying attention.