Chapter Text
Alastor was getting used to the ebb-and-flow of the hotel. He woke up at 4:30 so he could start his morning broadcast at 5. He delighted the airwaves with his show, informed people about traffic, allowed callers to give gruesome and horrific stories, and then he called it at 7. Two hours was almost too much for the people, they couldn’t handle him for longer.
Husk got up then to have some peace and quiet at the bar before anyone else was alive to cause a ruckus. Alastor could hardly blame the man given Angel Dust’s tendency to bounce into the hotel lobby with so much energy the walls would surely shake if they were not angelically reinforced. Charlie’s singing is almost as obnoxious. At least Vaggie is quiet.
It’s 7 now.
His broadcast ends and he hovers over the power button. It’s going to be a long day.
When he flicks the power off, he turns in his chair and stares out at the city. Lucifer had been generous with his window. It was large, magically cleaned every day to ensure it never blocked his view, and showed almost the entire city. From here, he could even see Rosie’s Emporium.
He stands, slowly, with a sigh and leaves his microphone leaning against the desk. This -- This is going to be a very, very long day. The sound of his footsteps is the only thing in his studio. He almost wishes he had left his equipment on to add some background noise and blot out his thoughts.
Alastor resists twitching, it’s unbecoming for a man of his abilities, but he can’t help it when he thinks of where Charlie is dragging him today. A fitting for hotel uniforms the day after Rosie came back from her vacation.
In some ways, he’s glad Rosie is still herself. A fitting the day after means that Rosie already has designs and mockups done. She was given a hint ahead of time that this would happen and had likely moved quite quickly to get things done before she left for Gluttony. The opportunist in her would never let a chance like this slide by. Uniforms for the Princess of Hell? Perfect advertising.
But she’s not quite herself. There is something about her that didn’t fit right, didn’t look right, didn’t feel right when she’d stepped through the portal into the hotel. Perhaps it was the touch of melancholy in her eyes, or the way she tensed when Charlie approached, or even the way she averted her eyes from him as if worried he would see something he shouldn’t.
He knows Rosie.
He knows her and he’s trying to be a better friend. He owes her. And his recent stint with death leaves him chomping at the bit to settle his debts to her.
7:10.
Husk is awake now. Rosie’s old friend. Not that he knows her now, especially as they’ve both changed since the hey-day of their friendship. He’s useless then.
No one else to talk to then. He’s not talking to Lucifer; he’d rather eat his repaired microphone. He’d rather chop off his antlers and hand them over to Rosie (seeing as she threatens to remove them every time he gets on her nerves). Talk to Lucifer? Hah. Over. His. Dead. Body.
With a nod, he swiftly turns on a ball of his foot and marches by his desk to grab his microphone and leave the studio. He’ll just have to talk to Rosie directly tomorrow. Today, she’ll rip him apart if he tries to do secondary business during a fitting.
Or.
Placing a hand on the railing of the stairs as he descends into his room, a devious thought comes into his mind. While Rosie had friends, certainly more than he did, there was one friend that knew her as well as he did. Who had been in Rosie’s life as long as he has.
Someone who ran the Emporium and would be there even when Rosie wasn’t.
He could almost imagine the lights flicking on in the Emporium as Dany went around her morning routine. Turn on the sub-lights, open the shutters, open a few windows to air out the place, and then off she went to the back to catalogue who was coming and what outfits needed adjusting for the day.
She unlocked the door at 7:30 on the dot every day. She locked it behind her, afterall they needed time to set up and get things running, but he was so used to her morning routine that he knew exactly when to show up at the backdoor. She would toss out any trash she missed the previous day at 7:50. Rosie would show up 10 minutes later.
10 minutes with Dany? Might be all he needs.
///
“I don’t know anything about the fitting today.” Dany says as soon as she opens the back door and throws the trash into the large dumpster. “Yes, I see your shadow.”
Alastor appears and tilts forward with a grin. “Have you seen Rosie?”
The twitch means ‘yes’. He knows Dany now too. He waits with his microphone tucked behind his back. It only takes a minute before she groans and puts a hand on her hip. “Yes. I saw her yesterday. She came by to thank me for taking care of everything and, yes, she seemed off. Is that what you wanted to hear? You know I’m busy, Al.”
“Oh, do tell me more about how she seemed off. I am dying to hear it.” He shadowed himself into the doorway so she couldn’t escape. Dany is very wily when she wants to be, and he’s not about to have this conversation put off. He needs to know what he’s walking into today. He needs to know how to-- Is that what he wants? To help a friend?
Sins below, what is Rosie doing to him?
“Al.” Dany growls and now both hands are on her hips. Ooo, things are getting serious. He keeps his smile sharp. “I have things to do. Rosie will be here soon and I need to pull the outfits.”
He hums.
“You are a bastard.” With a huff, Dany crosses her arms and taps a foot. “She seemed sad. Like she didn’t want to be back. Which, I suppose, makes sense since she had a good vacation. She’ll be fine today, I’m sure. Anything else you want to know?”
He taps his foot to the beat Dany’s creating and tilts his head. “I was hoping for something else.”
“Perhaps something about falling out of love?” With a snort, she tries to get around him and he simply steps to block her path. It’s a shame he’s not quite big enough to block the entirety of the Emporium doors. “She’s still definitely in love. I mentioned Lucifer and her eyes lit up like Extermination Da--” When she pauses, Alastor feels a touch of vindication. He knew there was more.
“Yes?” He draws out the yes and leans more into Dany’s space. “And?”
“Huh.” Dany stops moving long enough to look down at her feet and mutter something. “Anyway, I have things to do. Move aside, please.”
What? “Absolutely not. You just had an idea.” Alastor uses his cane to cover what he doesn’t of the doorway. The conversation can’t continue though. His time is cut short. It is with great frustration that he sees Rosie walking down the path to her house early. She’s got a skip in her step and she’s singing. “Or perhaps you’re right.”
Dany turns and whistles. “I haven’t heard her sing without prompting in ages. It’s good to see her happy.”
While he’s distracted, Dany bats his microphone out of her way and slips inside the Emporium.
He shadows back to the hotel before Rosie can see him. She can’t know what he’s doing or she’ll tell him to stay out of her business. Better to seek forgiveness than ask permission.
///
Charlie’s frenetic energy is getting on his nerves. She’s like a gnat, her words a mess of nothing more than garbled buzzing that annoys the ear and grates on the nerves, and her incessant movement is staggering. Where does she get the energy? Alastor knows she went to bed near midnight.
“Babe. Why don’t we just let the professional handle it?” Vaggie tries to put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder but Charlie is already by her uniform idea board. Which was a mess. Alastor has been around Rosie long enough to know the whole board should be thrown out and burned. “Rosie knows what she’s doing.”
“But I’m going to be trying things on! I have to know what I like and what fits and what colors look good on me and the rest of the hotel and--” Charlie takes a deep breath and in that moment Lucifer appears with a poof of gold and red glitter.
He looks happy.
Alastor dislikes it.
“Did you say we’re going to Rosie’s?” He bounces on the balls of his feet, glowing and golden and everything happy, and Alastor feels a twitch in his smile. Lucifer should be kept away from Rosie. At least until the descent into love-sick madness is stopped.
“Your use of the word ‘We’ is fascinating.” Alastor walks closer to Charlie and then lightly wraps a hand around her shoulders. “Charlie and I are going to work on the new hotel uniforms. I do believe you are expected to stay here. After all, the King of Hell surely has other things to do.”
Lucifer puts a finger to his chin, looks to the ceiling, and then lets out a large, “Nope!” He puts his hands on his hips and Alastor notices that his vest is burgundy instead of its usual pink. Alastor does not like that. “I just spent 8 weeks getting all my work done! I’m free if you want some help, Charlie.”
Addressing Charlie to get around Alastor is clever. Alastor will give him that.
Charlie gasps and holds her hands under her chin. “I loved playing dress up with you! And if you’re trying on the clothes, then I can get a better look at them! It’s perfect.” She skips over and squeezes her dad into a hug and then picks him up to spin him around. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Lucifer wheezes. “Tight grip there, Char.” When Charlie puts him down Lucifer continues. “Portal or walking?”
///
Rosie’s is bustling. Rosie’s is always busy, she has built it up as a center of commerce and trade in the entire Pentagram and perhaps even Pride at this point, and a bit of that pride sits in Alastor’s chest. She’s done well for herself over the years, and the line at her counter is almost out the door.
The pride in his chest vanishes when Lucifer waves with his whole arm and Rosie gives a delighted wave back. Damn them.
Dany is no help. She could at least elbow the woman. Instead she just continues checking out customers and ignoring the heinous display of an adult woman waving with her whole arm in front of a crowded room of people. Really. What is the world coming to?
Rosie taps her hat to tell Alastor to bring his guests to the back.
Alastor internally huffs, but externally he taps a foot, hovers a hand near the small of Charlie’s back, and walks forward. Lucifer bounces towards the back room, happy and content to run ahead of the group, and Charlie whispers in Alastor’s direction. “Is it me or do they seem like maybe more than friends?”
Is she just noticing? Dear Sins. At least the trip to the fitting room is short and Alastor doesn’t have to hear her theories. Rosie’s voice penetrates the door, her laughter putting him on edge. That’s her true laughter. The kind reserved for late nights hunting or being drunk on the couch. The kind Alastor didn’t hear until he was her friend for two decades. It’s a bad sign. A very bad sign.
“You know Al’s going to want red.” Is the first thing Alastor hears after that laugh and it makes him despise Lucifer deeply. Lucifer had caused that laugh. Somehow.
“As if your daughter won’t also want red.” Rosie snorts and Alastor pulls away from Charlie to step deeper into the room. “Am I wrong, Charlie?”
“Haha.” Charlie fiddles with her cuffs. “I mean. I like red. But if you think another color would work--”
“We want red.” Alastor glares at Lucifer. If he hadn’t said anything, Charlie wouldn’t have even questioned the red. Now, Rosie can get away with showing them blue. Disgusting. If he ever sees that horrid color in the hotel, he will tear up Lucifer’s pink roses.
He and Rosie make eye contact. He sees the mirth, the mischievous sparkle, and he raises an eyebrow in response. She waves a hand and laughs (the professional kind without any hint of personality to it) for the room to hear. “Alright, let me go get some pieces for ya to try. Just get up on the pedestal. Though I’m surprised you brought Alastor!”
As Rosie goes to leave, Charlie asks, “Why wouldn’t I have brought Alastor?”
Rosie’s spine stiffens, just a touch, just the amount it should because Charlie should know what kind of fitting she’s walking into. She clears her throat as she turns to speak directly to Charlie. “Because this isn’t a normal fitting, Sweetheart.”
There’s that look in Rosie’s eye. The look that questions why no one has ever taught Charlie anything. The look that Alastor knows he gives too. “You’re trying on different styles. It’s less a fitting and more a ‘what’s this look like on a body’ sort of thing. You’ll be getting in and out of clothes quite a bit so you’ll stay in your undergarments and Alastor here is-- Well.” Rosie moves to the doorway that heads deeper into Emporium storage. When she reaches it, she turns, tilts her head, and makes eye contact with Alastor. She arches her brow and hums. “Nevermind I understand why you brought him.”
She’s gone before anyone can say anything else. Rosie is, if anything, a professional who keeps things moving. It’s one of her strengths. Alastor has been to these sorts of fittings before, and Rosie knew that, so he spins on a heel and nods in Charlie’s direction.
Charlie gives an awkward laugh. “It’s a good thing we brought my dad then!” She clears her throat. “Dad?”
“I’ve been to these sorts of things before, Char Char!” He takes off his hat and spins it into non-existence. “How boob am I boobing?”
What did he just say? Alastor struggles to process as Lucifer shrugs off his jacket, Charlie puts her face in her hands. “Dad.”
“It’s a good question!” Lucifer scoffs and starts to unbutton his vest. Alastor knew this was coming, but he’s not going to watch. Gracious, no. He averts his eyes like a gentleman should. “If we think of all the people at the hotel, I’m thinkin’ the average is an A? Maybe? But Angel has the fluff and new hires might be larger and we want them to have proper back support.”
“Back support?” Charlie mutters, but Lucifer is on a roll and hearing Charlie ask about back support is, apparently, enough to send him careening.
“Yes! I know you’re small Char, but other people need proper support. Back aches are quite common with larger breasts. Your mother hated not wearing her corset unless she was relaxing at home. She didn’t have terrible back pain to begin with, but many sinners deal with odd bodies and odder boobs.”
Alastor doesn’t know what’s happening since he’s still looking at the ceiling, but he hears Charlie mutter something about getting the point.
“Alrighty. When’s Rosie coming back?” Lucifer seems to have concluded his rant, and he clearly has finished getting undressed, so Alastor relaxes and looks back at the people he’s having a--
No.
Absolutely not.
Alastor’s hands clench around his microphone as his jaw pops from the amount of tension going into maintaining his smile. This. Is. Bad. Lucifer being partially undressed (mostly undressed) was one thing.
Lucifer being mostly undressed and fully feminine is another.
Fully feminine with long hair that’s been put up in a bun and in only a red sports bra and a pair of red women’s briefs (and he-- she called out Alastor for wearing red).
Alastor can handle that. He is a man of repute and he’s spent enough time in Mimzy’s dress rooms that a woman with little clothing is of little novelty. He’s helped show-girls and actresses get dressed. He’s helped Rosie get dressed.
It’s Rosie he’s worried about.
But Rosie is a professional. Right. She’ll be fine. She’s seen nudity in all shapes and forms on all people and sinners. She’s fine. She’ll be fine. She’s a professional. And Lucifer isn’t even that attractive. Rosie will be fine.
She’ll be fine.
He hears her heels. She’s coming back. She’s coming and she’ll be fine.
She’s humming Sweet Adeline. He can hear the bounce in her step, the joy in her hum the mirth in her heart the vibrancy of her being -- and then she steps into the doorway. She’s still looking at the clothes on her left arm. “So, I know these two will be a lovely fit. Dany is going to push the rack in here so we can try on more, but I tho--”
She looks up and sees Lucifer. Lucifer does not see Rosie, she’s distracted by Charlie (who is asking about when to worry about back support). But Rosie has definitely seen Lucifer.
Rosie is a professional. She’ll be-- She’s not fine. She drops the clothes. Rosie never drops the clothes. Her breath is coming fast, her eyes have gone wide, and she makes eye contact with Alastor for a brief moment.
Panic. Rosie doesn’t panic. She’s not someone who panics. She’s someone who takes charge. She’s good under pressure. But it’s there. In her eyes. The mirth is gone, erased in a single moment, and Rosie turns and runs.
Rosie doesn’t run. She hates running. She’s wearing heels today. She doesn’t run in heels. Running from cops and mafia and other assorted goons they’d beaten over the years were necessities, and after their first run-in she wore boots. She now always wears boots when going out for a hunt. She refuses to run in heels.
“Rosie may have gotten lost in her back rooms!” Alastor turns to Charlie and slaps the back of his shoes together. Like an idiot. “I shall go fetch her.”
“That’s not necessary, Al. I’m sure she’ll be right out.” Lucifer’s voice is soft and round and slightly higher in pitch. Bad. Bad. Bad. Alastor clears his throat and leaves anyway.
He steps over the clothes in the doorway and looks towards each end of the hall. If he knows Rosie, she’ll go to her office. It locks and only Dany has a spare key. With the Emporium having been his home once, he knows it almost as well as he knows Rosie’s home. He goes left.
Her office is past long-term dress storage but before long-term suit storage. It used to be a generic store room, but after her old office got too small and Dany needed an office herself, it was transformed into what it is today. He stops in front of the door and sucks in a breath.
Rosie. Is his friend. He owes her.
He checks the door handle and finds it opens easily. She’d forgotten to lock the door. Rosie doesn’t forget to lock doors.
He swings it open slowly, giving Rosie time to realize there’s someone coming in (so she doesn’t kill him just because she’s startled). She doesn’t hear the door. She’s pacing across the office as she wrings her hands and mutters to herself. Her hair is frayed like she’s attempted to run fingers through it, but she has so many pins to keep it in place for a long day at work that it’s turned into a frazzled mess. The whole thing will have to be undone and redone for it to look halfway decent again.
Bad. Bad. Bad.
“You’re an idiot.” Rosie’s mutters are at a volume that anyone could hear. “You didn’t think she would bring her father? What were you thinking? Why didn’t you just ask this morning over breakfast you absolu--”
“Rosie.”
“Alastor!” She spins on a foot and then starts to tilt and lose her balance so she pinwheels and gives a brief yelp before managing to get her footing. Bad. Bad. Bad. “When did you get here?”
He sighs. Only she gets to see him relax to the point of a small smile. Only she gets to see his shoulders drop and his microphone get set aside. “Rosie, old girl, you seem quite distressed.”
She twitches. “I’m fine.”
“Your hair.”
She twitches again. “It’s fine.”
“Your hands.”
“Fine!” She throws her hands up and starts pacing again. “I’m not fine. What do you want me to say?” Rosie can be quite fast when she wants to be, and he has a feeling she would be setting the carpet on fire with her quick strides if she had that capability. “Do you want details? Do you want to hear about the image that popped into my head when I saw Lucifer in a bra and nothing else? How I want to pin her to my bed? How --”
The strangled nose that comes from Rosie is followed by her stopping her pacing to lean against her desk and press a hand to her heart. She’s staring at some point on the wall. “We’re in Pride. Alastor. Pride.”
“We do live in Pride, that is true.” Alastor makes his way over and leans against the desk with her. He crosses his arms and stares at the same spot. “That is part of being a sinner. Even if your rather exciting vacation took you far away, you were always going to come back, Rosie.”
He can be soft for one moment. He owes her. He can be a better friend. He doesn’t like it.
“But if we’re in Pride, it’s real.” Rosie leans against him, her shoulder touching his. “I -- She’s gorgeous.”
Alastor categorically disagrees, but he disagrees with Rosie’s choice of partner on the regular. “My dear, you have the worst choice in women.”
She snorts and bumps him hard with her shoulder. “It wouldn’t be so bad if we didn’t share a bed.”
Something in his head breaks. The sound of shattering glass comes from inside his head. Crunching metal. Explosions in the distance. All of it is his brain turning into Doomsday. “What?”
“Fuck. We’re in Pride.” She stands and steps into the middle of the room to look around her office. “I’m in my office. Lucifer is in my dressing room with her daughter.”
“A bed?” Alastor stares at Rosie’s face and tries to see through her eyes to her thought process. The bustling train station that makes up her various plans and experiences is just as wrecked as his own head. “Rosie, dear, did you say you shared a bed?”
Rosie waves a hand. “It was a vacation and Ozzie only had one bed available.” As if that makes it better. “That doesn’t matter because we’re in PRIDE!” Rosie summons her ottoman and sits on it to stare at him. “That means it was all real. It wasn’t a dream.”
“Why would your vacation have been a dream?” Alastor is almost offended. He worked very hard to ensure she got that vacation. “You are talking nonsense. Your head has turned to absolute mush.”
With a sigh he moves to be behind her and starts to undo her pins. He’s done this before. He can do it quickly so they can get back to the waiting Morningstars.
“My head’s been mush since Gluttony.” Rosie mutters. “Did you see her eyes? They sparkle.”
“I’m sure they do.” Alastor is not used to Rosie being so open about her attraction to women. Perhaps she was getting better about acknowledging those parts of herself. That would make him right for once, and he did enjoy getting one over on Rosie when it came to relationships. It was a very rare occurrence.
“And she has such a pretty smile.”
“You would appreciate a nice smile.” He’s almost through all her pins.
“And her skin looks so soft. I bet she’s delicious.”
“She is an angel.” Once all the pins are out, Alastor summons Rosie’s hairbrush from her bedroom and starts to work out the frizz Rosie created. He hums as he gets the worst of it out.
“Oh, she’s just the right size. I could pick her up. I could put her on my kitchen counter.”
“I don’t know what your kitchen has to do with Lucifer.” He finishes brushing her hair and puts it up into her customary bun.
“The kitchen counter is just the right height. It’s perfect.” Rosie almost sounds offended.
He just hums in response and starts to put her pins back in.
“And she’s a cannibal.”
“Lucifer is not a cannibal.” Maybe that’s why she thought her vacation was a dream. She was mixing dreams with reality. Her hair is done and he pats her on top of her head to tell her so. “Come dear, you have guests. It’s quite rude to leave them like this.”
When she’s standing and her ottoman disappears, she puts her hands on her hips and looks at him. Really looks at him in a way he’s only ever seen when she’s deciding if she should tell him something. When she’s deciding if she knows him, trusts him, and usually the answer is yes.
Today it’s not.
She is quiet when she speaks with a nod. Rosie is not typically quiet. She’s full of life in a way that’s refreshing. “You’re quite right. Where are my manners? Truly, I am not myself today.”
He doesn’t like it. “Perhaps more clothing would be useful? To help your delicate sensibilities?”
Rosie scowls at him and he smiles sharp and dangerous in return. If she wants to be so sensitive as to have to RUN from the sight of an attractive woman, he is fully in his right to poke. She’s poked him enough for a death-time. And it brings out some life in her.
“Watch your antlers, young man.” She takes one step towards him and he jumps away to grab his microphone.
“I shall tell Lucifer to put a shirt on.” Alastor waits for her to groan as a sign that he is fully correct in his assumption. When he’s in the doorway, he pauses. “I’m sure Danyella can do the fitting as well.”
“I can handle a beautiful woman.” Rosie mutters and he slips out the door before she can threaten his antlers again. He does not think she can handle a beautiful woman. She can barely handle a mildly attractive woman.
As he heads down the hallway he comes to a decision. Lucifer is not good for Rosie. She’s forgetting herself. She’s panicking. It’s not Rosie and it’s not his friend. He knows Rosie like he knows himself. She can’t fall in love with the King of Hell and that’s that.
He has to separate them. He has to.
Charlie and Lucifer are waiting when he arrives. Lucifer raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. “When you said you were going to get Rosie, I figured you’d come back with Rosie.”
The clothes that had been on the floor are gone. A rack with various outfits has been rolled into the room and the two outfits that had been on the floor are on hangers with the rest. Dany works quickly.
Alastor is a good liar. He’s always been a good liar. He prefers manipulation, but he can lie just as easily. “She realized she couldn’t find an outfit and is searching long-term storage for it.”
Lucifer nods. She would know about long-term storage. Alastor sends his shadow to tell Rosie to come back with something from long-term storage, she learned sign language at some point so it will be fine, and then looks Lucifer up and down. “Will you be staying like that the whole fitting?”
“Yes?” Lucifer looks down at her body and then back up at Alastor. “Kinda how fittings go.”
Alastor makes a face of disgust. “Heavens no. Put a shirt on. A woman of any caliber should have a bit of decency.”
With a bland look, Lucifer snaps and is in a red t-shirt. “Really, Al? That’s where you draw the line?”
“I have standards.”
///
The fitting goes much smoother now that Lucifer has a shirt on. She laughs with Rosie, even if Rosie has a mild blush the entire time (really, Alastor just doesn’t understand), and doesn’t pick up on the fact that Rosie’s eyes occasionally fall not on her face. Rosie is subtle enough.
Outfit after outfit. Charlie dislikes most of them. Alastor dislikes others. Red and gold. Red and blue. Red and green (disgusting and Rosie laughs with so much life in her that Alastor was tempted to say yes). Red and Red. Shoulder pads or no shoulder pads. Embroidered edges or plain. The number of buttons changed, the type of cut changed, the pants changed, everything everything everything over and over changing constantly and rapidly.
After a few hours of Charlie and Alastor struggling to agree on what looked good, Alastor blames Charlie for her horrible sense of fashion, Rosie stops bringing outfits and looks between them with a calculating eye.
“One moment.” She grabs Lucifer’s hand and yanks her out of the room. Lucifer, the idiot, waves with a grin and lets herself be pulled away while still half naked.
“Al, you’re too picky.” Charlie turns on HIM. As if she wasn’t the one who said no to everything he said yes to. “The red and gold was nice.”
He scoffs. “You liked the shoulder pads. That is over the top at best and heinous at worst. Do not pretend like they didn’t look befitting the palace instead of the hotel.”
“And the embroidery wasn’t over the top?” Charlie taps a foot and looks so much like her father in that moment that Alastor almost screams.
“It was classy.” It highlighted that work and craftsmanship is important to the hotel.
“It was--”
Lucifer and Rosie come back to the room. Rosie is whispering something in Lucifer’s ear that Alastor can’t hear, but he doubts it matters. Lucifer is wearing the perfect outfit. Black and gold with red accents. No shoulder pads, but enough structure to look professional. A classic vest. A classic jacket. Simple but sophisticated.
“Yes.” Alastor and Charlie say at the same time. They exchange a glance.
Alastor continues. “And where were you hiding this outfit? Surely you could have offered it from the very beginning.”
Rosie puts an arm over Lucifer’s shoulders. It’s possessive. It’s something Alastor doesn’t like. “I just needed some help to find it.”
Lucifer preens under Rosie’s attention. Alastor doesn’t like it at all.