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"Okay, Alastor, you're doing meal prep," Charlie scribbled on her notepad.
"Obviously."
All of the hotel's small number of staff were gathered in the empty party hall for final preparations. Three years had passed since their official opening and Charlie was brimming with excitement and nerves. Husk looked especially grumpy, but he had had that look about him for the entire 38 days of sobriety he had going. He could sleep once his job was over.
To his left Niffty was bouncing her leg anxiously after spotting a cobweb in one of the rafters. To Husk's right were the two recent hires. Chezk, the ram-like general maintenance worker looked present in body but not in spirit, and Misty, the rabbit-like resident therapist, whose mask-like face was impassive as always. Between them was Vaggie, also tapping her foot impatiently and crossing her arms. And at the far end beside Niffty was Alastor, grinning as he cleaned his nails. Charlie, everyone's supervisor, paced in front of their seats.
"Niffty--"
"Cleaning duty! May I be dismissed?! I need to start working immediately!"
Charlie blinked.
"I suppose that's fi--" and Niffty was already skittering towards the supply closest for her duster. Charlie sighed.
"Husk, Chezk, and Misty are doing decorations and setup." Charlie tapped her pen as nods were given.
"And Misty--"
"Overseeing our timeout room, of course," said the rabbit. Charlie began chewing the cap of her pen as her gaze swung back over to the tallest of the staff.
"Al, you're also on call if anything gets out of hand, and don't just sit back and watch this time!" Charlie pointed an accusatory finger at the demon in question.
"I would never. Not without a full bowl of popped corn, at the very least."
Vaggie growled.
"Wouldn't it be better if I were on security?"
"Uh," Charlie bit her lip, "I'm not--I think Al's better for that since most people take him seriously...not that I don't take you seriously--"
"Right, right," Vaggie conceded with a huff. Alastor was still twice her size and had a reputation to back him up.
"And I still need you to head to the print shop, my orders are ready and I okayed you for pickup. Here, let me text you the address."
Assigned duties confirmed, the small staff set to work.
The print shop wasn't far, but it was a crowded area that Vaggie shoved her way through. It took her nearly an hour to push through the crowds just to arrive at the shop. In Hell, demons came in many different shapes and sizes, from the tiny Niffty and Misty, Imps and the like, to the impressively tall Angel Dust and his former employer--whatever that asshole's name was. However, the vast majority of the demons in Hell were of the larger variety, and while Vaggie wasn't tiny, she was certainly of the smaller variety. It made just coexisting with others, moving through crowds and going about her business difficult.
Vaggie, however, had been small in life as well. She'd been short her whole life and grew a thick skin and a gruff exterior to level the playing field some. She had no issues muscling her way through problems just as well as the next demon. Crowded streets were nothing.
Even the unexpected bombing and subsequent chaos weren't something Vaggie was wholly unprepared for. Demons scattered in every which way, not many sure just what direction the destruction came from. In the scramble, uninvolved demons used that time to smash windows and loot various buildings. The store owners came out swinging swords, bats, shotguns and the like, not caring who got hurt in the process of protecting their goods.
Vaggie tucked Charlie's bag to her chest and scrambled through the frey, over top and under demons, a summoned spear to poke at anyone who was too much of an obstacle. Remarkably, the street which was so crowded she could hardly walk had cleared out a great deal. Vaggie was marching at a good clip when she went to round a corner.
Suddenly she missed a step. Well, she had no other choice but to miss the step, as suddenly her foot was no longer beneath her. She wasn't sure if it was a stray shotgun blast or a blade, but her right foot was gone. Severed above the ankle.
She didn't even notice the pain at first, but then she collapsed onto the blacktop and stifled a scream, because by god it hurt. She closed her eye and sucked in a breath. Even if it hurt, self preservation had to be her goal. Showing her distress would draw attention. She grit her teeth through the pain and forced her eye open, scanning the ground for the severed portion of her leg. She only looked a moment before she decided it was a lost cause, too many feet rushing around, too much debris to ever find it in this. One thing at a time, said the remaining rational part of her brain.
Reattachment was an easier process than regrowth, but she didn't have a choice, she needed to get out of dodge. She rolled onto her hands and knees, drawing Charlie's bag to her chest with one hand. She crawled towards the nearest alley, one others had run through but not paused. Still too close to the action but she had only the chance to hide.
She tucked herself into a toppled garbage can, wedging on the dented metal lid as the can lay sideways on the ground. She had a little light where the lid didn't quite fit. Shouting, clamoring sounds of a riot surged on as Vaggie took a second to think.
She was bleeding profusely, so that was her new goal, not dying of blood loss. She slid her bloodied sock off and tied it as tightly circling the end of her limb as she could, and over the open wound to put pressure on it for good measure. It hurt like a motherfucker, and she wimpered as her hands shook. She breathed in through her nose, out through her mouth, trying to calm her quivering and just get the stupid knot tied. When she felt that the bleeding had slowed to a trickle and would soon stop, as her accelerated healing was beginning, she formulated her next goal.
She wiped her hands on her other sock, though her dress was probably filthy enough that a little extra blood wouldn't matter. She dug out her phone. She'd call Charlie. Charlie could come get her. Hell, if Charlie was away from the phone, she'd call Husk. She was unsurprised that it wouldn't turn on. Holding it up to the beam of light revealed that the screen had a spiderweb of cracks across it. Both it and the screen protector.
Adrenaline was dulling the pain and she thought of what to do next.
For the time being, she realized, she couldn't do anything. Although her wound was bound with a tourniquet, it was still leaking. If she tried to move or escape, it would pick up again. She would just have to wait until either the chaos died down or her bleeding had stopped entirely. She waited, trying her best to keep her breath even and deep, hoping it would somehow speed the healing.
After a couple minutes she felt that the active bleeding had stopped but she would wait just a bit longer to lessen the risk of reopening the stump. While she waited, a second explosion sounded, and more shouting came to follow. She weighed her speed and her strength if she crawled versus if she hopped with something to stabilize her, and just as she came to a decision, her heart leapt into her throat. A shadow crossed over the cracks of light and then drifted inside the trash can she holed up in.
No sooner had her fingers twitched to summon a knife than did the shadow slip out and the can tipped upright on her. Her limbs crashed down into the bottom of the can, including the stump of her leg. She was seized with pain for enough time for the lid to be removed and for her to be extracted. Lifted under the arms, Vaggie prepared to strike out with her blade, but paused upon coming across a familiar face.
"And there you are my dear!"
"Oh god, not you."
"Just 'Al' is fine, unless you really would prefer to worship me," Alastor quipped, grinning.
"Literally anyone but you..." Vaggie sagged in his hold. The demon just laughed.
"How'd you know to come down here anyways? You're supposed to be cooking for tomorrow."
"Come now. I heard about the hullabaloo down in this district and I just had to come see for myself. I would never miss out on a little carnage."
Vaggie squinted.
"You came looking for me, didn't you? Because I was late."
Alastor's grin twitched and he looked off to the side.
"Well, nevertheless, I found you safe and whole if a little..." he trailed off, holding Vaggie up higher. He looked at her wrapped and bloodied stump for a beat then looked back to her face.
"You seem to be missing something."
"No shit."
Alastor hummed, ignoring a shriek as some odd demon recognized him then sprinted away. He then shifted the little moth in his arms to carry her. Vaggie squirmed, not appreciating being held to his chest.
"You certainly can't make it to the hotel in this state, so let's just--" he balanced her knees over his elbow and held out his hand to wave.
"Don't you dare!!" she snapped. Her hand flew over his, preventing him from transporting them.
"Teleport me and I will puke on you!"
Alastor blinked. Considered. Blinked again. In the few times he'd transported the staff to various locations, Vaggie and occasionally Niffty complained of nausea. It may have been to do with their single eyes, but the chance he'd spend the night removing stains from his best shirt and coat didn't please him in the least.
"At least allow this much," he said, snatching his hand away, and waving it over a plastic bag below, "Charlie should have these on her desk by now." A shadow swept over the bag, quickly fading into smoke and vanishing.
"And how lovely is a stroll with a little dame like you? More time together suits my fancy just fine." Vaggie stiffened in his hold, growled, then crossed her arms. Ever since his intentions towards Vaggie had been revealed--to her at least, since his blooming feelings had been egregiously obvious to others--she had been less standoffish, less riled up, and less likely to threaten him with that spear of hers.
By all accounts, his crush should have dissipated, since it was those factors which intrigued him to start. Yet his feelings had not grown weaker. More than likely, it was because he was finally able to get closer to her. Alastor had no qualms about invading other's personal space, but it was difficult with Vaggie who recoiled from him so easily and set something sharp between them. She made eye contact, and dared him to do something. So brave was she. And it was, he realized, that bravery, that unafraid nature that kept him wanting. Where before he settled for hearing her surprised sounds and following snarls when he pushed her into a wall or set up a prank, he now wanted...something else?
The same sort of something that compelled him to stroke the ends of her soft, smooth hair when she passed, or tip her chin up nearly nose-to-nose with him and ask for a smile. He'd like to see a smile, but getting one from her was impossible, while getting her to show off her ferocious side was easy as pie. He'd never, really, intentionally pulled her hair, he only wanted to stroke it like a cat's fur, but she accused him of it nevertheless. This frustrated him, although he would never admit to such, and that was the reason he'd poured black ichor into her hair on the one occasion. It was then, in an overheard conversation that he realized that this was not the way to go about this at all.
The cat was a fair bit out of the bag, so changing tactics shouldn't be too obstructive. Vaggie knew he was unlikely to really harm her, and thus, begrudgingly, accepted his invasion of her personal space. Even being carried by the sociopath.
"Oh, it seems they took out the butcher's, that's just the most unfortunate thing. Although if I recall, that shop was dreadful with their cuts, so it's not really much of a loss, is it?"
Alastor was a natural at carrying on one-sided conversations, and even without Vaggie saying anything, her face was very interesting to glance down to as he walked.
"Ah, look at how they scatter like cockroaches, and I haven't even done anything to them yet. At least, I'm fairly sure. Why sometimes it's such an inconvenience to find anyone to talk to on a good day, when they all flee from 'Hel-lo'! The ladies in the colony would be much better for conversation if only they could do more than swoon--"
"Do you ever shut up?" Vaggie interrupted at that.
"Not if I can help it, no!"
Vaggie rolled her eyes.
"If you're so popular with the ladies, that they fawn all over you--" she sounded sick as she said this, "--why don't you go after one of them?"
Alastor hummed.
"It's because none of those ladies interest me in the slightest, plain and simple. Again, they're pleasant enough, but oh so plebeian. Not like Mimzy or Rosie, or even our fair Charlie."
"Why not pursue Rosie or Mimzy then?"
Alastor stopped, mid-step, then stumbled settling his foot down slightly. He stared down at Vaggie, eyes wide.
"I wouldn't dream of it! They're my good friends! Not only do I not think of them as anything of a romantic sense, even if I might, I would never ruin our current relationships by--well--taking an interest in them!"
Vaggie snorted.
"The best relationships begin in friendship, you know?"
Alastor lifted a brow.
"As in who? Yourself and our dear Charlie? Why, that worked out so well, didn't it? Friends for years, but one year of romance and now you're so tense with one another."
Vaggie's face went red. She grit her teeth and glared up at the demon who had began walking again.
"That's not the example I was going for! I don't--" she grimaced "--what happened between me and Charlie was something different. I'm just saying that's how it usually works. Friendship first, then dating."
"And with yourself and Charlie--"
"I don't want to talk about that, you stupid jackass!"
Alastor opened his mouth to retort, but something, somehow, niggled in the back of his brain. Something she'd said now, something she'd said weeks ago. Something Husk had grumbled about.
"So," he began, tone soft, "should I befriend you, first?"
"What?" She blinked, somewhat caught off guard by his shift in tone.
"I asked if I should become your friend?"
"What??"
Alastor looked down at Vaggie, raising a brow.
"Did you damage your eardrums or hit your head back there, darling?"
Vaggie scoffed.
"I would rather die than be your friend."
"You already have, dear," he grinned, then looked back ahead, "so I see no reason that I shouldn't befriend you."
"Because you're a twisted, self-serving bastard--"
"A dime a dozen down here--"
"And a fucking--fucking serial killer!"
"As is Misty, and you played a large part in the decision to hire her."
Vaggie flushed, angry. She had been a major influence on Charlie's decision, but that was for the sake of the hotel. And besides, the hotel's therapist wasn't really a friend, and the rabbit didn't often socialize with anyone besides Husk. She knew that Misty was continuing her nighttime routine, tracking down and torturing child abusers...it was different on so many levels.
"You only want to befriend me in order to--well I don't fucking know, even."
"Neither do I!" Alastor laughed.
Vaggie sighed.
"Whatever..."
"Good! Now then, do you have a favorite dish?"
Vaggie was already exhausted trying to converse with the radio demon and him wanting to play twenty questions was not within her plans for the day.
"I'm not answering any questions," she mumbled. She closed her eye, trying to will away Alastor, will away the pain in her leg, will away the dirt and blood she was encrusted with. She focused again on her breathing. In, out. Sway. In, sway, out, sway. She felt each step being taken in a gentle sway and began to focus on that as well.
When was the last time she'd been carried like this? She'd been picked up, but it had been so many years since she had been carried like so. It must have been before her abuelita had hurt her back. She could almost smell her grandmother's cooking then. The chemical smell of her arthritis cream. Abuelita would make dinner for everyone, and afterwards Vaggie would sit at the table to complete her homework, and then sometimes, she would spend so long trying to understand it that she'd fall asleep in the cushion of her arms. She'd awake to the gentle shake of her shoulder and then Abuelita would gather her up and carry her to bed. It was a pleasant memory.
When she awoke this time, it was to someone prodding at her injured leg. Her eye snapped open and she sat bolt upright, just about smacking Charlie in the nose. Vaggie blinked and looked around. She was in the back of the hotel, one of the rooms they made into a makeshift nurse station. Charlie was sitting to one side, Husk to the other, more towards her feet. Foot. Vaggie herself was on one of the beds.
"Oh Vaggie! I'm so glad you're awake! Al told me you were fine and then suddenly you weren't." She gestured to the corner of the room, where the deer was standing against the wall, nearly camouflaged against the red wallpaper. His eyes almost had a note of concern. Almost.
"Out from blood loss, most likely," Husk added, beginning to unravel the makeshift wound dressing.
"It's lucky Al found you when he did! I hate to even consider what might have happened if you were left downtown. It's turned into such a big mess."
"Yeah, lucky," Vaggie grumbled. Then Vaggie remembered something crucial.
"It's a good thing I got to pick up your stuff before it went to shit."
Charlie blinked owlishly at her friend, before she stood and leaned over her.
"Oh no! We can't go on with the party! Don't even worry about it, Vaggie. I'm going to call it off."
"What?!" Vaggie squawked, "why would you do that? You've been looking forward to this for so long!"
Charlie sat back down.
"I can't possibly do it now, with--"
"Woah, woah there now, "Husk interjected, "I did not just spend my whole afternoon breaking my back to get this place decorated only for you to cancel last minute! Princess, that party has gotta happen."
"But Vaggie, she--"
"Charlie, I'm alright! Just because I can't go doesn't mean you can just let everyone's hard work go to waste."
"But Vaggie, I have to be there to oversee the whole thing, and I can't be there when my best friend needs someone to take care of her while she's hurt." Charlie began to nervously loop her blonde hair around her finger.
"I'll be fine on my own, Charlie. I'm not totally incapacitated, I'm just down a foot--"
"And a few pints of blood," Husk added, not helping the moth's case. He was cleaning and dressing Vaggie's stump, noting how poor her color was and how slowly the healing was going.
"Vaggie, I..." Charlie bit her lip and looked away, "I don't know if I can manage everything on my own, not without my right hand gal."
Vaggie set a firm hand on Charlie's shoulder.
"You totally can. Everyone in this room knows it." Charlie's eyes flitted around, watching Husk nod and a remarkably quiet Alastor shrug. Charlie sighed.
"I don't like the idea of leaving you alone, though."
"If I may offer a suggestion, I could watch over her for the next while. It would certainly offer you some peace of mind, would it not?"
Vaggie shot Alastor a murderous glare.
"It kinda would, actually," Charlie began in an unnervingly hopeful voice before she saw the look on Vaggie's face. "But I need you there, too, to help with anyone too rowdy."
"Darling, it's my impression that you don't always appreciate my brand of 'help' if I should speak frankly. Isn't that so?"
Charlie frowned at Alastor.
"So leave dear Vaggie in my care, and allow that rodent to punish those who need it in your, what was it, time-out room?"
Still frowning, Charlie's face shifted as if she were seriously considering his proposal.
"Charlie you can't seriously--"
"Bah," interrupted Husk, "I'll watch her. I ain't got any plans for tomorrow other than finding a warm place to take a nap and trying to forget I'm sober. Decorating is finished."
"That sounds much better! Vaggie, are you okay with this?" Oh, finally Vaggie's opinion is considered.
"Yeah, I suppose so." If it's Husk, then it's whatever. She didn't need a babysitter, but if it gave Charlie some peace of mind...
"And why would Husk--" Alastor was interrupted by Husk loudly tearing the purple medical wrap and scooting his chair out, standing to crack his back.
"Alright. You're all wrapped up. Now I gotta take a leak," he announced as he shuffled out of the room. Charlie clapped her hands together excitedly.
"Okay! That's settled! Let's get you up into bed, then."
"Yes, please." Vaggie was still exhausted, maybe she had lost a lot of blood. It certainly wouldn't be that she'd gotten so comfortable with Alastor's warmth, and stride and presence that she'd been able to fall asleep naturally.
"Al, let's go."
"Wait, what?" Vaggie balked. Before she knew it, Alastor was scooping her up and following behind Charlie. Vaggie resigned herself to being carried again as they made way to her room. Alastor set her on the covers, and Charlie was already backing out of the room when she paused, looking at Vaggie.
"You sure you'll be alright?"
Vaggie gave her a small smile.
"Of course I will."
Charlie returned a flimsy smile.
"Alright. I'll go get Husk, he should be done in the bathroom by now." She left quickly after that. Vaggie sat up, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. She felt gross, and as much as she needed a nap, something was much more pressing at that moment.
"Where are you going?" She looked up, realizing that the red demon hadn't followed after Charlie.
"Uh, why aren't you going?"
"Oh, until Husk gets here, I'm not letting you from my sight."
"Ugh. Yeah you are because I need a bath."
Alastor blinked.
"In your state, you'll need assistance, I presume?"
"Excuse--" Vaggie was speechless for a moment.
"Well you only have one leg to stand on, getting too and from the bath will be difficult, won't it?"
"Oh my god!"
"Again, just 'Al' is fine."
"You're--you are NOT going to give me a fucking sponge bath," Vaggie hobble-hopped over to the bathroom door to prove her point, "you goddamn pervert!!"
"Perv--" Alastor balked before the sound of the bathroom door slamming shuttered him out.