Work Text:
All characters © Hazbin Hotel
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[A windy evening with a cozy feel.]
[The hotel lobby is populated but quiet: Charlie poring over a directory, legs draped over Vaggie, Vaggie scribbling in a notepad with a skein of hair in her face, Husk polishing glasses at the bar.]
[Alastor is even present, seated in an armchair, reading. The title of the book is visible as Silence of the Lambs.]
[Charlie, after several not-so-furtive glances at Alastor, extricates herself from Vaggie’s lap and approaches the armchair.]
CHARLIE:
Heyyy, Alastor! Everything, uh…everything good?
ALASTOR:
(Without looking up)
Mm? Why do you ask?
CHARLIE:
Well, I couldn't help but notice…
(trails off, fidgeting)
[Alastor relaxes his hold on the book and glances up–mainly to make her uncomfortable. It works.]
CHARLIE:
I, aha, ha, don’t know how to say this, but you know, the other day…during, during the extermination! You know?
ALASTOR:
(lower eyelid twitching)
I remember.
CHARLIE:
(wringing her cuff link in a twirling motion)
So! Uhm, I noticed that your coat was torn, and I was wondering if maybe, ehh, you…
(finishes with a wince)
…sustained an exorcist injury?
[Behind the counter, Husk pauses his cleaning and cocks an ear.]
VAGGIE:
Not that we care, or anything.
[Realizing this is a topic that cannot be dismissed so easily, Alastor marks his place in his book and gently sets it to the side.]
ALASTOR:
(flashing a wide, cheerful grin)
I feel perfectly fine, my dears! Though your concern is touching, if a bit misplaced.
VAGGIE:
Technically, you didn’t answer the question.
ALASTOR:
And I don’t have to! Look at me.
[He gestures, as if that explains everything.]
CHARLIE:
That’s the thing.
(biting her lip)
I mean, it’s always hard to tell with you, but you do seem kinda, well. A little peaky?
ALASTOR:
That’s to be expected! We used a great deal of unholy magic protecting your pet project, Charlie.
VAGGIE:
(under her breath)
Qué mierda de venado.
ALASTOR:
(baring the full extent of his smile)
And what would this ‘bullshit’ be, that you speak of?
HUSK:
Exorcist wounds can be gnarly. Really fucks with your insides.
(He catches everyone staring at him and shrugs.)
Just sayin.’
[With a worried look, Charlie leans over with the intent of feeling Alastor’s forehead. But Alastor shies away, his voice gaining a few ominous overtones.]
ALASTOR:
͎I͎ ͎w͎͎o͎͎u͎͎l͎͎d͎͎n͎'͎t͎ ͎d͎͎o͎ ͎t͎͎h͎a͎͎t͎, ͎i͎͎f͎ ͎I͎ ͎w͎͎e͎͎r͎͎e͎ ͎y͎͎o͎͎u͎.
[An uncomfortable silence.]
ALASTOR:
(cheerful once again, like a switch flipped)
Well! This has been fun. But I have an agenda to keep.
[He rises from the chair.]
CHARLIE:
Sure you’re not just running away?
VAGGIE:
Again?
[Alastor’s nose wrinkles at the bridge, so slight one would miss it if they were not looking.]
ALASTOR:
Of coouuurse not! Why, there are things to do. A great, many things! Souls to slaughter, broadcasts to, well, broadcast! So toodle-oo! Don’t wait up!
[He performs a little departing flourish before bleeding into the shadows.]
CHARLIE:
…Am I just imagining it, or is he a little off?
[Vaggie and Husk give her pointed looks.]
CHARLIE:
(rolling her eyes)
You know what I mean.
HUSK:
(shaking his head)
Probably disappeared to lick his wounds. Again.
CHARLIE:
So he is wounded! Wait. Unless you meant, like, emotionally?
HUSK:
I was thinkin’ egotistically.
CHARLIE:
But what if he’s also hurt? Physically hurt?
(starts to pace)
Shit, we can’t have anyone else dying on my watch!
VAGGIE:
(craning her neck on the couch to regard Husk)
You are bound to him, after all. Why don’t you put Charlie at ease and make sure he’s not doing anything, uh. More manic than usual.
HUSK:
Oh hell no.
CHARLIE:
C’mon, Husk!
HUSK:
If you’re so worried, go yourself.
(jerking a thumb towards the pendulum clock on the wall behind him)
Or get Angel to do it when he’s off shift.
VAGGIE:
That’s a terrible idea.
CHARLIE:
And I totally would, but I’m supposed to meet my dad for dinner in an hour.
HUSK:
(right eye twitching)
How…convenient.
CHARLIE:
Pleeease?
[Husk holds up his paws in resignation. Charlie gives him a proud, grateful smile.]
HUSK:
Okay, fine. But ya guys owe me one.
[Hotel room number unknown]
[The quarters are mostly dark. The sound of a lock clicking is heard, then the metallic shick of a chain. A shadowy figure glides across the room.]
[Behind the drawn shades the figure is revealed to be Alastor, sitting at the edge of his bed, scratching his nose with a clawed hand.]
ALASTOR:
Darned thing’s so itchy.
ALASTOR:
(singing)
In their deluded eye
I am nothing but strong.
Head held high
Lest I prove them all wro–
(breaks off, coughing)
Wrong–
(coughing again, with a grimace)
ALASTOR:
(rubbing his chest)
No singing today, it seems.
[Nevertheless, he continues his song in a hushed whisper, almost as if he is compelled to finish, now that he’s begun]
ALASTOR:
(singing quietly)
But I’ve concluded,
With a biiiit of detection
My well-being, since fleeing,
Took an undesired direction.
I’m tired,
Cold,
Chest achy from hallow.
Alive but shaky,
And a grippe’s taken hold.
Look! I’m equipped with a shadow,
So lithe and fit!
While its reflection
Is quite sallow,
(coughs)
And feels like utter shit.
[He lies back on the bed so he’s staring at the ceiling. His legs dangle over the edge of the bed and he has an arm thrown over his eyes.]
ALASTOR:
Cut with grace! Fell into the trap
All systems down! Now that’s a wrap!
Pah! Nobody’ll miss ‘im, no one here to debase
No one to fear, or to see with a frown.
[He rolls over and grabs a pillow to rest his head on.]
ALASTOR:
Something divine begins to churn through my mind, yet the battle is good and won. Can’t I be done with this pointless race? Resisting is futile–just keep on existing a while. As I will a smile to turn up my gabbling face…
[He sits up and regards his microphone. There are minute cracks along its base, and along the smooth pole. He sniffs wetly.]
ALASTOR:
(running a bent knuckle under his nose)
I’ve no time to appease
As my nose tickles dreadfully,
Dripping unsteadily
Ready to cripple
With likely a triple sneeze.
Oh no, here we go,
Another sappy stare.
What’ll make you happy?
You there, don’t try to impress me,
But go ahead and bless me,
That is,
I̶̳̓ḟ̷̝͋ ̵̥̓͂ŷ̸̧̋ͅǒ̷͖̭̇ŭ̸̝̝͒ ̸̐̿ͅd̶͙̅̕a̴͔͂r̴̪̰͘ȅ̴̜͖.̵̡̂̏
Oh for hell’s sake, do try to shut it.
There’s no outbreak, so I’ll once again rebut it.
There’s the door, please ignore the slime.
I shan’t claim your soul, just total control
As I say–once more, for the millionth time,
*I̶͎͑'̵̼̃m̵̨͒ ̵̨̍f̷̢͐ị̸̆n̶̤̄ē̵̬.̷̜̎
[In a burst of energy he stands up and starts to pace, with only the slightest wobble.]
ALASTOR:
If they glimpse a sniffle, I’ll lie and bristle, concern met with dismissal, pasted grin so artificial!
ALASTOR:
(with a hand cupped beside his mouth)
Oh, and please,
Don’t tell the Vees.
If they hear just one sneeze?
No sympathy, just a symphony of fear!
Oh dear! I surmise,
Once they listen to me speak,
They’ll christen me
With the word I most despise:
W̴̛̞̿͊̏Ȩ̵̨̦̳̳͖̫̜͚̝̗̭͗̊̔̍͌̅́́̕͝A̵̡̝͉͚̘̞͖̬̮̾̇̈́̌̿͝K̶̮͙͎͉̝̜͚̻̖͌̎̐̓͆͛̋̒̕͝͝.
ALASTOR:
(cupped hand at his face rising slightly to meet his ear)
I can hear it now, the fated Broadcast:
‘Have you heard? The great Alastor’s fallen at last!
And what is it that fells
This radio production?
Wait, I’m sorry, the hotel
undergoes what interruption?’
Well, folks, I am chary to admit
Here be no vengeful angel or Overlord.
The truth is shameful really,
A weakness I cannot afford.
The culprit-Hzt'chtshoo! (sorry, this nose of mine won’t quit)
If you’ll excuse me, I’ve a show to uphold
No truce, Vees,
I won’t be consoled!
So let’s just ignore this simple…̴h̴̴e̴a̴̴d̴ ̴c̴̴o̴̴l̴̴d̴.
[Seemingly spent, he flops back onto bed.]
ALASTOR:
(hushed)
Fall if I must, I shall do so alone
So others won’t hear the dust beneath bones,
Where a beating heart thrums behind chill and chain
Home to fear, lack of will, and worst of all, pain.
Oh, enough with this wallowing!
For my listeners following,
We’ll have no pity tonight.
Now come, let’s liiiight
Up this cityyy, if you please!
HZ'ktchoo!
ALASTOR:
(sleeve muffling his voice)
Now if I could only make it through
With nary a sneeze.
ALASTOR:
(lowers his sleeve with a scowl)
But cut me some slack,
I just got my Power back!
Why, it’s time to drink my fill,
Not time to be ill!
Sigh. Isn’t this just my luck?
H̴g̴z̷t̸'̴K̷t̴c̴h̵o̵o̸!̶ Ah, fuck.
[A knock at the door.]
[Alastor lowers his mic and squints at the door warily.]
HUSK:
I know you’re in there, boss.
[Alastor sighs. He waves the hand not holding his mic and both the lock and the chain release of their own accord. Husk swings open the door, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.]
ALASTOR:
(with fake pleasantry)
Can I help you?
HUSK:
Mm. Suppose.
(narrowing his cat-like eyes narrow at Alastor)
No broadcast today?
ALASTOR:
Changed my mind!
(a light sniff)
You know how mercurial I can be, hah, hah!
[He notices Husk still fixing him with an unreadable stare, and his laughter tapers off.]
ALASTOR:
Uh, Husky-baby?
HUSK:
Man, you’re in rough shape. Battle really did a number on ya, huh? Dunno how I didn’t see it earlier.
[Alastor sniffs again, a little more urgent.]
ALASTOR:
(waving a hand in the air)
Oh my, it seems you’ve caught me! Whatever will you do with this information, hmmmm?
ALASTOR:
(leaning into Husk’s personal space)
Surely you wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and take advantage of poor, little ol me!
HUSK:
(unimpressed)
Playing doctor isn’t one of my kinks, ya clown. And not everyone’s out to get you.
ALASTOR:
So I fail to understand why–
[His voice breaks, and he stops to clear his throat]
ALASTOR:
–excuse me–why you’re here.
HUSK:
Princess was worried.
(corners of his mouth twitching up)
Maybe I should let her know you’re a little run-down–
ALASTOR:
(icily, but his smile remains unchanged)
Do that, and you’re going to w̵͓̬̓͘ì̴͎s̷̺͗h̸͔̲̏͗ I’d broadcast the desecration of your soul.
HUSK:
(paws held up in surrender)
Okay, okay, touchy much. I won’t say nothin’. Think she’s just concerned.
[Alastor has taken a few steps away, his back to Husk. He’s fumbling with the pocket of his lapel as he speaks.]
ALASTOR:
Well, you can report that everyone’s favorite radio demon is…hh…Snf! Five by five, tip top, on the up and up, peh…peachy k-keehh–
(sneezes)
HUSK:
(not even bothering to cover his snort)
Man, is that your sneeze? That is adorable.
[Alastor scowls. Or at least it feels like a scowl–he still has his back to the audience.]
ALASTOR:
(still sniffing repeatedly)
Yes, quite.
HUSK:
(humored)
Not done?
[Alastor whirls around. He still has a hand clamped over his nose and mouth, but his eyes are alight with an unsettling glow]
ALASTOR:
₲Ɇ₮ ØɄ₮.
HUSK:
Fine, fine.
[Not a second after Husk leaves Alastor doubles over, lean frame jackknifing with the sneeze that Husk correctly predicted was coming.]
ALASTOR:
KT’TCHTZ! Urgh.
(speak-singing, though his voice sounds a little thicker and coarser than before)
A nose so fickle, cannot stop the tickle, it’s arrived without warning, hard performing on air, but what do they care?
ALASTOR:
(adding in a melody)
My body rebels again and again
Fine, say a prayer, a blessing, amen
I doubt it will chase this malaise away
If only I could make these pesky humors obey!
Disease spreads like rumors
Twanging like swing but with faulty tuners
But alas I fear that’s not the true issue–
Ahk’Tcchu!
Good gods, I need another tissue.
[He dabs at his nose with an irritated look.]
Aktchu̸̡͝!̵͍̈́ T̷̜̊ś̶̭h̷̯͑ũ̴͎!̵̧̉
ALASTOR:
Stop me, it isn’t ceasing
Itch, hitch, repeat
With increasing–
‘̴C̸H̶Z̶T̵'̶o̴o̴!̵ frequency
This is too far from discrete.
Rob me of my decency
Haven‘t felt this bad since Prohibition
It’s got me in its throes, what repetition
In my nose, this tickle with a mission
Burns with fiery ignition
Fueled by stress to make me miserable
This illness’ success is quite considerable!
ALASTOR:
(screwing one eye up as it waters)
Heaven forbid, while I’m such a wreck
My attempts to stay hid foiled by a status check.
Eyes wet and nose bright scarlet
What a disaster to be seen by Miss Charlotte!
A surprise guest? I’ll kid, I'll jest!
I implore thee, leave me be!
Why, me? Hah! You’ll never know I’m poorly!
Choke it back, I’ll lie that I’m well!
Yes Charlie, my voice may crack
And my riddles sound gnarly,
But all things permitted, I’m rather swell!
[He sobers]
ALASTOR:
(softer, fingering the pole of his mic)
Without my voice, whittled not by choice, just who the hell am I?
ALASTOR:
(eyes darting to the closed door)
Her constant pursuing
Will be my undoing.
If they’re smart, they’ll stay apart.
(scowls darkly, closing a fist in front of him)
Submit to her care?
I’d sooner cut out my heart.
Rather than share with Hell’s daughter,
I oughter slaughter–!
(coughs roughly)
Ah, my tolerance has reached critical mass,
But fine, let’s start–
(coughs)
with a glass–kff!
of water.
[The sound of perfectly-timed knocking has Alastor groaning inwardly.]
ALASTOR:
(lip curling)
What? What is it now?
[He flings the door open himself this time in the hopes that his mere presence is imposing enough to drive whoever it is away.]
ALASTOR:
(smile strained)
Yes?
[Vaggie stands in the doorway with her arms crossed and a pinched, guarded expression. Alastor allows her in with a sigh.]
[He perches at the edge of his bed once more, poised and cordial, but he’s rubbing his temple and his shoulders are taut.]
VAGGIE:
(bluntly, cutting to the chase)
Husk’s sulking.
ALASTOR:
And how is that my problem?
VAGGIE:
He had that omerta look he gets.
[Alastor blinks at her, not following.]
VAGGIE:
(visible eye narrowing)
…the one he gets when someone’s threatened him into silence.
ALASTOR:
That tends to happen to people who’ve seen things they shouldn’t.
VAGGIE:
(an eyebrow arching)
Which are?
[Soft static crackles. To Vaggie, it sounds almost like fur hackles being raised.]
ALASTOR:
͎Y͎͎o͎͎u͎ ͎c͎͎o͎͎u͎͎l͎͎d͎ ͎s͎͎t͎͎i͎͎c͎͎k͎ a͎͎r͎͎o͎͎u͎͎n͎͎d͎ a͎͎n͎͎d͎ ͎f͎͎i͎͎n͎͎d͎ ͎o͎͎u͎͎t͎, ͎i͎͎f͎ ͎y͎͎o͎͎u͎’͎r͎͎e͎ ͎t͎͎h͎a͎͎t͎ ͎c͎͎u͎͎r͎͎i͎͎o͎͎u͎͎s͎.
[Vaggie regards him silently for a moment.]
VAGGIE:
(singing, lyrical)
Cruel and cold to not feel the pain,
You and I, we think the same.
ALASTOR:
I doubt that very mu–
VAGGIE:
Tempest that’s feared by all,
Come join me in this fall.
ALASTOR:
(beginning to look uncomfortable)
Let’s not and say we did.
VAGGIE:
True, your morality is turbid,
Like your leer from ear to ear.
It pulls you tight and withdrawn
In a manner befitting not a knight,
But a lowly pawn.
ALASTOR:
Careful, my dear.
VAGGIE:
(pointing at Alastor's lapel)
Look, I get the gist
You’ve been whammied by an exorcist.
It’s not difficult to glean–
That wound’s been scrubbed clean.
ALASTOR:
(tilting his head to the side)
Fine, prickly Tempest,
I’ll join your little sing-along.
Yes, the Radio Demon’s sickly! I know it’s a gas!
He doesn’t belong
In the Infirmary of St. James;
Belittled by a sniffle!
But I do exclaim,
This will quickly pass.
And before long
I’ll be standing pat.
Now I’m demanding you finish your song,
No more of this chat.
Allow this Menace his whittled games.
VAGGIE:
You need anything, at least?
ALASTOR:
It’s not a question of need, Vaggie.
You forget, we’re deceased!
But since you’re feeling chatty
And I know it’s sappy, no–appalling!
I’ve just been recalling
A happy feast.
VAGGIE:
You’re hungry, got it. Anything…not…living?
[Alastor thumbs his nose and considers.]
ALASTOR:
(with a shrug)
I’m in a giving mood,
So what the hell.
I’m naught if forgiving,
Despite what I’ve caught.
Very well, let’s dwell on food,
Before my voice is gone.
[A phantom smile spreads across his face, crooked but somehow soft.]
ALASTOR:
A nostalgic antalgic!
I know it’s quite garish,
But come, allez,
Retreat to the parish–
The Vieux Carré.
[The scene changes to fit Alastor’s story]
My dear, here, take a sniff
Through the archway there you’ll catch a whiff:
My mother’s cooking
From the French quarter!
Quick, while no one’s looking, taste the cornbread.
Enjoy a feast from the long dead.
[The scene fades]
ALASTOR:
Now as we part ways, recall what I said.
I’m here to annoy, I told you;
I expect no quarter.
Just disrespect through and through.
No need to cease or acquit.
Well at…least
Now you know a bit
Ah…ahhbout the Bayou.
(mostly stifled)
Hkchtz’u!
VAGGIE:
Was that a…? Never mind. I’ll see what we have.
ALASTOR:
Don't strain yourself.
VAGGIE:
Asshole. And for the record that was, uh, not terrible.
(looking away at the admission)
Didn’t think you could do nice. Thanks for sharing.
ALASTOR:
Don’t know why I did, really.
VAGGIE:
Could have something to do with you running hot.
ALASTOR:
What–
VAGGIE:
Jeez, don’t look so caught.
(singing)
One eye does not mean I see any less
I’ve gleaned that we have many things to address.
First of all your pride, that at the slightest deviation
Causes you to hide.
One thing I’ve learned from Charlie, is don’t keep it all inside,
And she’s quite right.
The power of collaboration i-is…dude, are you alright?
ALASTOR:
(pinching his nose tightly)
Quite. Juh-uhhst’Gxt!
VAGGIE:
Oh, did you, um, gesundheit?
Shit, don’t look so pathetic! I get it!
You think we’ll grant you no quarter?
As Charlie’s supporter
There are a few clauses, Alastor, you often forget.
Every time she sings
It softens the throne where you sit.
Every line she brings
Makes you feel like you snugly fit.
Once she’s ended…whatever her song,
She’ll mend your inner fawn, pining to Belong.
Abide her mothering,
Though it can be smothering (meat pun intended).
Don’t you run or even think of declining.
Still think we’ll grant you no quarter?
It’s a chill, quit your whining, or you’ll come to regret aligning
With Lucifer’s daughter.
ALASTOR:
I think you’re overestimating your partner.
VAGGIE:
No, she’s smarter,
But idealistic, unbroken,
Pure and unmarred.
Unlike us, not outspoken,
Unsure but hot with emotion.
They tend not to see you break
And bleed.
Walls opaque and hard
While you mend,
That hood your identity.
Most can’t glimpse the goods inside.
Only your guard, spoken lies,
Fake,
From that token Mister Hyde.
ALASTOR:
Oh, I suppose it is easy to underestimate my current state. But don’t tempt your fate, even you aren’t exempt.
I don’t need divine intervention.
VAGGIE:
That certainly wasn’t my intention!
ALASTOR:
(beginning to sing faster)
Ah, I don’t mean to be rude,
This sure has been a lovely Hazbin chat–
Albeit one that falls quite flat
And should finally conclude.
When it comes to a point,
I have to divinely anoint
You’ve somewhat been a bore.
I know you meant to confront,
But your words don’t cut; they’re rather blunt
Now go on, go play with your swords.
VAGGIE:
Alastor–
ALASTOR:
(pushing the tempo even more)
You know, I think it’s time for you to go, run along!
I’ve had enough.
No more talk of silly stuff! Let’s abort this song.
You’re right, I’m a bit chilly–you’ve read my comport
Now leave,
Before my face contorts.
I need some reprieve
From you and your cohorts–sniff!
A break from your…Motley…c-crew…
VAGGIE:
Um. Are you…?
ALASTOR:
Pardon, I really must, ah–
H̸̨̛͂Ǵ̵̮̣͙͍̼̪̀̋͋̽͊̀͑Z̴̦̤͈̗̙͇͔͉͍̾̐̈̃̇̂͋̕͝͠T̴̤̱̣̯̩̮͉̔̋̓̎̚͜'̶̮͔̺͖̣̮̽K̷̘̦̼͎͗̄̔̈́̌̈͗̌̃̈͂̂̽̋̌̂̆͘ț̸̡̛̞̳͇̦̜͎̪͕̮̹̻̥̙̹͍̆̆̌̎̾͋́͗̀̓̍̉̃̏̚͝͝x̸̺̺͕̗̳̺͍̹͔̮̝̆̒͜ͅc̶̤͙̬̺͕̹͚̤̹̮̫̜͖̠̣̐͒̎͂͌̅̽̽͑̅̓̀́̀̚͝h̴͇̦̯̥̤́̓̔̉͂̄͗̆̈̑ͅţ̸̧̫̻̥̩̜̤̪̝̺̞̺̤̐͜ò̶̧̧͉̖̤͔̱̺̘̣͆̂̿̽̽̉͌̐͑́͂̉͊̚̕͝ơ̵̱͚̯̫̹̾̈́̏̽̿͛̓̚͜!̷̧͓͖͉̭̖͙̫͖̉̓̓
[The music stops abruptly, leaving an even louder silence in its wake.]
VAGGIE:
Holy shit.
ALASTOR:
(rubbing his nose with a testy look)
For once, I concur.
VAGGIE:
(frowning)
What do you mean ‘for o–’
(takes a deep, calming breath)
So, so all this drama is because you have the sniffles?
ALASTOR:
It's a bit more complicated than that.
VAGGIE:
I don’t think it is. And salud.
ALASTOR:
Hm?
(nose twitches in realization)
Oh. Snff–H̸̰̀h̸͉̔K̴̗͛T̷̺̀Ĉ̴͖H̵̳̐ZToo!
VAGGIE:
Yyyikes.
[With as much grace as he can muster, Alastor quickly covers the bottom half of his face with a handkerchief.]
ALASTOR:
(muffled)
Well, this is awkward. Would you mind finding somewhere else to be so I can, ah…
[He breaks off to cough out something strangled that Vaggie can only assume is a poorly curtailed sneeze.]
VAGGIE:
You want me to leave so I don’t see you blowing your nose? Mister ‘I eat raw meat with a cake fork?’
[In response, Alastor sneezes again, louder. The handkerchief only seems to accentuate how harsh it sounds.]
VAGGIE:
Salu-
ALASTOR:
AhKTCHZ’U! Ng.
VAGGIE:
(wincing)
Eugh. Yeah. I’m going to get you some tissues.
ALASTOR:
(cracks open a watery eye)
You’re going to what now?
VAGGIE:
(slowly)
Tissues. Me.
(makes a walking motion with two fingers)
Go get them. Bring them here.
ALASTOR:
…Why?
[His breathing becomes uneven, signaling the itch is not quite finished with him yet.]
VAGGIE:
‘Cause you definitely need them. And they’ll help you stop.
[Alastor sneezes a final time. Static crackles anew.]
ALASTOR:
Snf! Like I said–
VAGGIE:
I don’t want to hear it.
(pointing)
Bed, and change into something, uh, not that.
ALASTOR:
(conjuring up some casual silks on hangers, which he shakes out as he sings)
I’m sorry, but being pathetic is not my chosen aesthetic.
I prefer my quarry of dixie ramblers, and even tipsy, hopeless gamblers!
I’m not a people pleaser,
That’s not my magnum opus,
I enjoy soul-destroying,
That is my goal, my point of focus.
[He knuckles the side of his nose, face pinching up.]
ALASTOR:
(sniffling with thinly veiled disgust)
But good lord! This itchy beezer
Is toying with me. Heh! What an annoying teaser!
But fine, if you insist.
I can be an altruist
In cool cat’s pajamas–
See? No fuss, no drama!
[He stumbles. It is only a slight movement, still graceful in its own way until his shadow slinks out and steadies him. It does not go unnoticed.]
VAGGIE:
You sure about that?
ALASTOR:
Ugh. What a mess.
(glancing at the outfits in his arms)
No glad rags on this stag today, I guess.
No need to dress like Cab Calloway,
No need to impress.
I’ll drop the glib, in dribs and drabs.
This cat’s a gib today, I confess
From this virus, see, if you’re keeping tabs.
Now I must request
A little privacy, at my behest!
I’m not keen on
Alerting Vees, the word is mum
Don’t heed this disease–however disconcerting,
I won’t succumb–
I’m my own master's voice!
And by power of Choice
Alastor the victor will soon speak-easy.
VAGGIE:
Okay, sneezy.
(in an upbeat tempo)
I know you’re not keen on being seen as part of our team–
ALASTOR:
–seems I need a biiiiit more incentive to act redemptive.
VAGGIE:
Yeah? Here’s the news:
I’ll extend an offer, put myself on the cross.
If you refuse,
It’s your fucking loss.
So you can choose:
Want some, I dunno, tea and honey? Company?
ALASTOR:
(scoffing)
Company? Me?
Dream on!
I’m the Victor, your talking machine,
Through the gramophone
I announce with nonchalance
A nonce occasion, I pronounce,
Since I work best alone.
VAGGIE:
Take it from someone who’s been there.
It’s not just about what you wear,
Or the words you speak
That separate the strong from the weak.
Sure, it’s a cool-ish schtick
To traipse around with a silver tongue.
But it seems mulish while you're this sick,
Maintaining that phony tact
With a voice all bunged?
ALASTOR:
Well, that stung.
VAGGIE:
This isn’t a test. You can drop the act.
ALASTOR:
Hmm, is that a fact?
Did you know? Words are swords without the “S.”
I’m a pro, the best of the best!
And know better than the rest how they can cut.
You may be from Heaven, but
(stops briefly to cough)
Words are ̴M̴̴Y̴ weapon.
They’re how I get my five-fingered discount–
VAGGIE:
Uh, we’ve only got four–
ALASTOR:
Who cares the amount?
(a sharp claw continues to rub and pinch at his nose)
But I’m not complaining
Nothing to be gaining!
Won’t cry you a river,
(Not that unstable!)
Won’t vie or nag–this isn’t fatal!
No papal tears from this opportunity-killer.
Though I hate the scrutiny,
I won’t give you flack.
My dear, good grief,
That’s not my maple leaf rag!
VAGGIE:
(with an exasperated gesture to her nose)
Ugh, I’m done discussing it–dude, stop touching it!
Never seen the dumb thing look that sore,
All red and glowing.
I’ll go get you something softer–
ALASTOR:
Thanks for the offer, b-but–AHT̷͕͠K̵̫̔T̴̙̊C̷͔͑H̴̥͗T̷̳̈Ź̵̢Z̴͐ͅU!
[The music fizzles out in a wan crackling of static.]
VAGGIE:
I’m going! Geez, you’re such a chore. Here.
[She extends a clear glass, which Alastor eyes suspiciously.]
VAGGIE:
For fuck’s sake it’s just water, Alastor.
ALASTOR:
Which you brought me because…?
[He accepts the glass, but in lieu of drinking its contents opts to set it on the night table and blow his nose instead.]
VAGGIE:
(rolling her single eye)
That the best you got?
[Alastor pulls a face, but need eventually trumps discretion and he gives a more hearty blow.]
VAGGIE:
That’s more like it.
ALASTOR:
(folding the kerchief)
Do excuse me. I’ll try my best not to, ah, transmit this, but in the meantime I hope you can ignore this most unprofessional lapse in composure, goodness!
VAGGIE:
I’ll try.
[She scrubs her face tiredly].
And you can quit looking at me like you’ve done something terrible.
ALASTOR:
(smirking)
Oh, I’ve done many things–
VAGGIE:
Recently.
[Alastor merely blinks.]
VAGGIE:
Seriously? I’ve seen you kill babies with less guilt.
ALASTOR:
Well, infanticide implies some mehh—snf! Measure of controhhl.
[He manages to not sneeze, exhaling in relief.]
ALASTOR:
(looking pleased with himself)
Speaking of.
VAGGIE:
My point being, you’re not in trouble for getting sick, Alastor.
ALASTOR:
(nasally)
…they were hellspawn, for the record.
VAGGIE:
Ugh, enough with the babies!
[The bed shakes as Alastor fails to swallow down the sneeze as it returns with a vengeance.]
VAGGIE:
(still exasperated, but deflating slightly)
Salud.
ALASTOR:
(stuffy, croaking)
I prefer meat. Hah, hah, get it?
[Laughing makes him curl in with coughs. They sound painful, and cause both of them to wince.]
Ow.
VAGGIE:
Stop deflecting. What did you think we were going to do when we found out? Punish you, or something? Send a telegram to every Overlord in Hell?
[Alastor says nothing, but grimaces behind a wad of fresh tissues.]
VAGGIE:
Wow, the great Alastor doesn’t have a witty retort. That’s new and…moderately disturbing.
ALASTOR:
(voice rough)
Would you prefer I coerce you into silence as well?
VAGGIE:
Oh my god, stop talking, jeez. My throat hurts listening to you.
ALASTOR:
Gladly! Now that we’ve established I can cause vicarious pain, it’s time to leave me alone. Preferably for a few days to a week.
VAGGIE:
[sigh count: 5]
I can’t believe I’m asking this, but…is that what you truly want?
[The smile does not falter, but the vaguely deer-shaped shadow behind him ripples as Alastor cocks his head to the side.]
ALASTOR:
Isn’t that what I just said?
VAGGIE:
You aren’t always honest with us. And Charlie’s gonna find out you’re sick eventually, so you can get your head out of your own ass and accept our help–or, you can be a fucking jackass and expire in here until Charlie breaks down the door.
[Alastor seems unfazed on the surface. His shadow, however, loses a few of its spiky, serrated edges.]
ALASTOR:
That doesn’t sound like much of a choice, hmm? So I suppose I should resign myself to ridicule and head-pats and your rather Spartan bedside manner.
VAGGIE:
(breaking into a feral grin of her own)
Oh, this is nothing compared to what Charlie’s gonna do to you.
ALASTOR: Can’t wait.
[Vaggie turns around and heads to the door.]
VAGGIE:
Oh, and if you’re so concerned about your evil reputation, we can make sure the Vees never know about this.
ALASTOR:
(somewhat subdued)
Ah…Thank you for that.
VAGGIE:
(blinking in surprise)
Just. Blow your stupid nose and get into bed! You miserable cretin. Husk will be by with some medicine later.
[The sounds of her footsteps fade.]
[Scene changes to the hotel lobby once again, only the sky outside the windows is inky and most of the staff is present. Minus Alastor.]
[Abruptly, the Radio Demon pops into view.]
ALASTOR:
(giddy)
This cretin has been beaten
But it’s not so terrible, in fact it’s maaaaybe bearable…ahem!
I’ve been behind the eight-ball, shooting craps
I’ve cast the die, had a touch of rye–still think it’s a trap–
But have made the call, and perhaps (as much as it appalls)
Have opted to join you chaps on this hellbound highball.
NIFFTY:
He looks ready to collapse!
ANGEL:
Why’s he so manic?
HUSK:
Nah, I think that’s just panic.
And a touch of Robitussin.
You know him, he don’t like much fussin.’
Best to let him go on ‘til he lays down and naps.
ALASTOR:
I’ll let that slide, penalty waived
Since you’ve already died, and I’ve not the energy.
I get your depraved, bestial souls craved variety,
Yet this violation of privacy at a celestial touch
As such, is really a bit much–
I don’t need to be saved.
ANGEL:
(whispering)
Maybe just get laid?
ALASTOR:
Now I hate to sound lame,
But fellas, you’re driving me insane!
With your overzealous hospitality
At this contriving but minor malady.
So why don’t we play the quiet game?
ANGEL:
It involve marijuana?
ALASTOR:
Something more tame
My octopedal friend.
A different ilk of nirvana
I recommend
For th-ihss prima…donnaaahh, ahh…
NIFFTY:
Oo, I think he’s gonna–
[Alastor sneezes]
ANGEL:
(sniggering)
Right back atcha there, sweet cheeks.
VAGGIE:
Angel, don’t poke the bear.
ALASTOR:
HZZT'KCH'U!
ANGEL:
Sheesh, still going there?
[Alastor eventually recovers.]
ALASTOR:
(reedy and garbled with interference)
Well, guys and gals,
And nonbinary pals,
I’ll accept, but let’s not make this a Thing.
I still command respect, remain a King of wars.
Do I deign to swing open my doors?
Allow all in, even Overlords?
What if they abhor what’s behind the veil?
See something weak and tiny and frail?
CHARLIE:
(placing a gentle hand on Alastor's forearm)
We would never, we just want you to get better! You forget your soul was once mortal.
ALASTOR:
Don’t make me chortle! Glad that thing had an ablation.
Who needs mortals in these dregs of damnation?
All it portents is trouble and annihilation.
ALASTOR:
(pulling his arm free from Charlie)
And not to sound contentious,
Lest I befell Sir Pentious,
Yolk from his egg-heart bleeding
Needing validation from pretentious folk,
What a joke! Hark, look where that got him!
ANGEL:
Uh, out of hell?
CHARLIE:
Well….only time will tell?
[Alastor chuckles unpleasantly until he coughs.]
ANGEL:
Jeezus. Go blow–no, your fucking nose, dumbass.
[Alastor looks like he is going to retort, but crackles out a cough instead behind an arm.]
ANGEL:
(cannot help a smile amid his humor and disgust)
Takin’ the chance to harass the Radio Demon?
Treason I heard, but what a gag!
Believe it or not, this is better than a shag–
Geez ya stag, Will ya ever stop sneezin?
ALASTOR:
(dabbing at his nose with a sneer)
Yes, I’d enjoy it while you can.
Who says this isn’t part of my master plan–
CHARLIE:
(with a pitying look)
Oh, Alastor–
ALASTOR:
–nothing than a scam,
Ah….ṭ̷͖͗̍K̴̡̘̓T̴͍̐͗C̴͇̗͒H̵̩̀z̷͖̱̓̄!̷̧̄͠
Oh, putain.
ANGEL:
Hah! Says the guy who prides on knowing,
But hides from the light.
You realize the Camorra this aint,
Yeah, you’re wise, but ya sure no saint
Despite the glowing aura
Inside your chest.
What, nothing to say to that?
ALASTOR:
(shrugging, a little more subdued)
I’m doing my best,
but I suppose I’m tired.
My nose has acquired congestion,
And there’s a pain in my breast.
[A small tug at his pants leg alerts them to Niffty.]
NIFFTY:
Here’s a suggestion, why don’t you go rest?
[Alastor shakes his head, vexed.]
ALASTOR:
To add insult to injury,
You’re all acting, well, un-sinner-y.
I deem it
Quite distracting.
I can’t tell if you’re acting,
Or if you really mean it.
HUSK:
Tch. You’ve put us in boxes
No better than Adam,
Cruelly old fashioned,
Our voxes truly fathomed,
Already determined
We deserve to burn and filet.
Sure, we’re petty,
Unruly, off our rockers–
CHARLIE:
Don’t forget morally gray–
HUSK:
Shocker.
Yet in this place of Sin and Vice
We can face our fears,
Make them obey so they don’t win.
CHARLIE:
And do things our way!
And, and, also! Sort of be nice?
[Alastor is gaping at them with an uncharacteristically blank expression.]
CHARLIE:
Uh, you okay?
ALASTOR:
(lightly tapping the edge of his monocle)
That is the question. I’m afraid the lights are on but nobody’s home, in this knocker. What’s your ploy?
HUSK:
Don’t be a dick or a killjoy.
This isn’t a trick or a fluke, I ain’t Vox.
(muttering)
Hoh boy, I hope King Porter stomps on that Jukebox.
ALASTOR: Heh.
CHARLIE:
There’s that smile!
It was gone for a while.
[Niffty climbs up Husk’s wings and shoves a bottle and spoon in his face. Husk opens the bottle–whose label is illegible–and fills the spoon with a viscous, black ichor.]
HUSK:
(extending his arm to Alastor, clearly enjoying this)
Alright, time to bust out the big guns
Sit tight and open, good sir!
To help you sleep till the sun
Without being woken,
You must trust this Elixir.
Heh, heh. This should be fun.
[With eyes glowing baleful red slits, Alastor takes the spoon, downing its contents in one thick swallow. The fur on his ears bristles.]
ALASTOR:
(shuddering at the taste)
That is quite vile.
[He sobers almost immediately. Hell’s potions are extremely potent.]
[Husk magically summons a jukebox and clicks it on.]
HUSK:
Here, I got a number.
We’ll turn up the dial
On the juke
To help you slumber.
How’s that idea?
CHARLIE:
Always a panacea!
ANGEL:
Yo! Play some Jelly Roll, Fats, or even Duke.
What? I got style.
ALASTOR:
(sitting in his favorite armchair)
Very well, if you must. I’ll kill you all tomorrow.
[He yawns, mouth opening much too wide to be considered natural.]
HUSK:
Sheesh, you’re givin’ me heartburn.
But yeesh, thank the stars,
The order of things has returned
To its normal abattoirs.
(flipping through the stations)
How about some Fitzgerald?
To herald new habits learned.
ALASTOR:
(wearily, conceding more with each passing moment)
Much too holy. Play some Glen Miller.
Just to remind you I’m still
A fox in a coop of hens, a killer.
Thanks for the Advil,
I do appreciate you being kind.
But if you don’t mind,
Please dial down the affection.
I don’t need…
(yawns)
…all this protection.
VAGGIE:
We know, we know, you’re very scary
Despite all that you bury.
We won’t peek backstage, we’ll ignore the glow
Of something born
Behind that ribcage.
Despite your crabby angel plague,
We hope your fears can be assuaged.
Turn up the Strayhorn
And down the heat
‘Cause you look a little warm.
And for the record,
No, I don’t mean Gene Krupa
Or the Chattanooga choo choo
It’s okay to transform–
(Yikes, gross cough, someone get him some broth–)
From a moth to a pupa
And to take time off.
ALASTOR:
Hilarious.
[After a moment his radio filter crackles with realization.]
ALASTOR:
(narrowing lidded eyes at Vaggie)
Hold on, was that a joke? From you?
VAGGIE:
Shut it.
CHARLIE:
I thought it was great, hon.
HUSK:
(grinning)
Sure, it’s strange, but people can change
We’re not pure, we’re liars.
We‘ve been on the pyre,
But this requires a new kind of balm.
So take a fucking seat,
Stay calm,
Dress that exorcist’s wound
Address your shit,
Reclaim your voice soon
And jive to a new beat.
CHARLIE:
Rejoice, you’re alive!
Though you’re probably beat–only in body of course!
So it made sense to retreat.
Plus, after all you’ve done for us, Alastor,
We won’t blame you or shame you–
(ANGEL:
What about kinkshaming?
VAGGIE:
Don’t even think of flaming!
ANGEL:
Awright, d’accord.)
ANGEL:
Well then–oh shit, do you hafta sneeze again?
ALASTOR:
HgKtchu! Oh, you mother hen.
ANGEL:
Nah, I’m more of a cock.
HUSK:
That too. So, who wants some stew?
NIFFTY:
Yep-yep-yep, Stew then bed!
ANGEL:
(glaring at her, offended)
Uh, it’s six o clock, are you sick in the head?
I won’t diss the chicken stock,
But that curfew is tough to abide–
(ALASTOR:
A'Htchztchu! Goodness, apologies.
CHARLIE:
It’s okay, you can’t help a sneeze! Oh, I forgot! We need to take your temp.)
ANGEL:
Wait-wait-wait. Back by six o clock, I’m not sick, can’t let that slide!
The night’s still young, much to be sung.
Besides, I’d rather suck co–
ALASTOR:
Myyyy, my. What's the verdict, doc?
CHARLIE:
(inspecting the thermometer)
My deduction tells me it’s Angelic corruption,
Akin to a flu.
For someone who sins, it’s a rare kind of voodoo.
Even Hazbins need time to recoup.
(pulling a bowl out from thin air)
Here, have some soup!
But pay it no mind, don’t be blue,
Before long, you’ll be back to new!
ALASTOR:
(pushing the bowl away with urgency)
Wait, ehhxcu–kTCH’oo!
ANGEL:
Eww, he’s gross and stuffy
Eyes all puffy–
VAGGIE:
(noticing Alastor’s eye twitch)
Hey asshole, don’t we close that puerta?
ANGEL:
(shrugging four shoulders)
Eyyy omerta doesn’t work on me.
I’m just sayin’, it’s kinda yucky.
But I don’t like the sound of that cough, so I’ll back off.
After all, I don’t wanna end up muerta.
ALASTOR:
(rubbing the sides of his temples)
Yes, you’re a zoot suit riot. Now could you all please be quiet?
CHARLIE:
Whoops, sorry!
[Silence falls for a bit. For a while, the only sounds in the lobby are the clinking of soup spoons and soft jazz, backlit against the night wind.]
ALASTOR:
(regards the scene around him)
Trust, huh?
(singing)
Perhaps I’ve been on the wrong Wavelength
And it is not always about strength?
Fighting in numbers may not encumber
But could instead…guarantee…victory.
A foreign notion for my head
That requires devotion
And lots of work and strife,
That if I don’t go astray, one day, just may guarantee
My freedom
And ensure my best life.
[He downs his remaining tea, eyes and ears resting in a comfortable droop. It is an odd look on him, but not an entirely unpleasant one.]
[Abruptly, he claps his hands together, grinning.]
ALASTOR:
Well, that brightens my mood!
To say with vigor renewed,
Here’s the kicker,
No longer a lone Rückenfigur
Staring into the distance.
‘Quick, before he gets sicker,
The great Alastor needs some caring and assistance!’
Said by those who are not just fillers
But supporting Pillars
Building our foundation, a fortress.
Power combined creations,
Bound to impress:
What a revelation!
[He coughs out a laugh. In response, Vaggie throws a lozenge at him.]
ALASTOR:
Hmmm, Maybe they’re onto something, those pesky Vees.
There’s more to lose, certainly.
Yet there’s breaking news
I suspect they are too stupid to realize.
It hasn’t computed, I guess,
Since they aren’t that wise-
But hey, an alliance
Isn’t an ehh, exact sci…K̸͍͒T̵̺͒C̵̠̀Ĥ̵̢uu!
[Angel pops into view]
ANGEL:
Fuckin’ bless!
ALASTOR:
…science.
(massages his nose through a handkerchief, wincing)
I do blame them for missing it
Since they’ve been too busy dissing it.
The small fact of the matter:
It’s not all about climbing up the ladder!
To leave your soul intact, here’s the silver lining
(And this is a must)
A contract needs not fears nor confining
To complete its signing,
But rather,
TrﮠՖ†.
[A pause.]
ALASTOR:
Mm. It’ll take a while to get used to this.
[After another moment of contemplating the word, he shivers.]
CHARLIE:
Alastor, I brought you some more tea! Drink it while it’s hot, okay?
ALASTOR:
Every instinct I’ve got says to chase her away
Or worse, infect, expect her to betray
(takes a sip)
Oh hurray, It’s Earl Grey!
[He takes another, longer draught, before setting the mug down. Despite the sharpness of his teeth, the smile they form is the softest one yet.]
ALASTOR:
(glancing out the window)
Charlie claims such a Tower
Requires a planned design.
She exclaims this damned nation
With its sharp teeth and claws
Can even unsheathe one such as mine.
How divine!
Not only my power, but all my flaws!
It is quite lonely, that little station,
Where I’ve resided in stony chains.
So I’ve decided!
For my gains,
I’ll fight along her
Become so much stronger
For the sake of the others, and most importantly, me!
I intend to recover
And make this all end–
Discover how these fetters break,
To better my soul,
Have it mend.
Yes, I’ve ascertained:
Alastor at last will be on parole:
Unchained
And finally free!
[His shadow begins to laugh hysterically.]
[The scene fades]
-εɴɖ-