Why yes, I'll take your soul

Alastor stormed through the streets in silence, fury simmering under his skin. Only decades of practice allow him to outwardly maintain his composure.

He could not believe he was attracted to Charlie. It was… detestable. Such uncouth desires. Vulgar, primitive, wretched things. He wouldn’t even know where to begin. He desperately wanted to believe it was something temporary. An anomaly caused by her magic, or by his sickness, or by the stress of recovery. Something that would pass when he recovered.

Yesterday proved otherwise.

Alastor is no fool who rejects the truth to hide in a false reality constructed of lies told to oneself. He had seen what denial did to people. He had used it against them. He would not indulge in it himself. Charlie was an attractive woman, and he was attracted to her. 

This is fine. 

It could be much worse. Just because he was afflicted by lust does not mean he had to become some rake ruled by licentious impulses.

He simply wouldn’t succumb to these low, animal impulses. That was easy to say in the abstract., but he can’t just keep ignoring it either. He became irrational when… it flared. Impulsive. Distracted. Those were not tolerable weaknesses. 

This was one of those rare moments where he was out of his depth. He simply didn’t have any experience with this. He never thought it would be necessary. 

How does one… Oh. He knows someone with lots of experience. She could definitely offer some advice. Much as he is loathed to talk with her about this. 

Of course, he can't tell Rosie everything. She has him there playing host at that hotel, shepherding Charlie and the rest. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that she has some plans for Charlie, and Alastor imagines it could cause him quite some trouble if she learns exactly who is igniting this detestable desire in his loins.

Mind made, Alastor pivoted on one foot and began making his way to cannibal town.

Alastor doesn’t have time to wear something “nice,” but it shouldn’t matter. He wasn’t asking much of her. Rosie was an incorrigible gossip, and he liked to believe they were on decent terms despite their deal. Still, making a good impression was always important. So on the way over, he snatched a box of chocolates out of the hands of a quivering demon and acquired a bouquet of flowers in Cannibal Town.

He strolled into Rosie’s shop and made his way through the crowd which parted before him. Those in Cannibal Town didn’t fear him as much as other demons, but still, they respected him. Another consequence of their deal. Only once has he been… allowed, to rampage here. Someone had spat on him. Even then, he hadn’t been permitted to shred any souls over it.

Alastor’s smile stayed fixed as he walked, gifts in hand, posture straight, steps unhurried.

“Rosie, my dear!” Alastor called out.

Rosie’s head snapped toward him, attention leaving the cannibal she’d been tending to mid-sentence.

“Alastor! Darling! What brings you to my humble establishment?” she said, adding a slight curtsy

Alastor was grateful she treated them as equals in public. He knew she had ulterior motives, but he still appreciated the respect. It made conversations easier, and protected his reputation.

“Oh, nothing much,” he said nonchalantly, adjusting his grip on the flowers and idly picking at a claw with his free hand.

“I always have time for you, Alastor!” Rosie said brightly. Then she turned back to the cannibal she’d been advising, “You just go home and lay down the law, and remember, stand firm.”

“Let’s talk in the back, my dear,” Rosie said, turning from the front room and walking into the back without waiting to see if he followed.

Alastor did.

The noise of the shop dulled as the door closed behind them. The backroom was smaller and quieter, arranged with the kind of deliberate comfort Rosie liked to project. She guided him to a little table set for two.

“Please, take a seat,” she said politely, gesturing to the chair before procuring a kettle and two cups.

Alastor sat, crossing one leg over with impeccable posture. Alastor was the perfect image of a gentleman.

Rosie poured them each a small glass of tea, unhurried despite the many cannibals waiting in the front room.

“So, I can't help but notice you don’t have your staff.” She said glibly, before sipping at her tea.

Alastor’s jaw tightened a fraction. This woman, she always knows how to get under his skin. He took a sip of tea himself to prevent him from saying something he might regret while he considered his response.

“Yes,” He said at last “well, it was broken during my battle with Adam, and… I've been preoccupied. I haven’t gotten around to fixing it yet.” ‘if I even can. That’s a problem for later.’ 

"That's not why I’m here.” He said, waving his hand as if to dispel the idea.

“Oh?” Rosie said, quirking her brow in surprise. “What did bring you here?”

“A personal matter,” Alastor replied, a bit stiff.

The void that served as Rosie’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh!? Do tell!” She said, clasping her hands beneath her chin.

Alastor’s smile tightened. “I have recently found myself plagued by… attraction. To a woman.”

For the first time in a long while, Rosie looked genuinely caught off guard. Her “eyes” opened wide, and she leaned back so abruptly her chair creaked, nearly spitting out her tea in surprise.

“You… you’re attracted to someone?” she asked in disbelief. “To a woman?”

Alastor simply responded with a nod, eyes narrowing minutely.

“All these years,” she said, still smiling, “and you still manage to find new ways surprise me. How did this happen?” She leaned in again, gaze fixed on him with uncomfortable intensity.

There were few people in Hell who could make Alastor feel uncomfortable with but a glance alone. Just one actually.

He chose his words carefully.

“There is a woman I have a contract with,” he said. “She pushed back. I used her chains to remind her of her place. Ever since, I have been plagued by lust in her presence.” Alastor reluctantly admitted.

He kept the details minimal. Everything he’d said was technically true. He could lie to Rosie, but in his experience it was better to reshape a truth than invent one, especially when one wanted useful advice.

Rosie’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “A woman under contract? Alastor, have you been naughty?” She tilted her head. “It wasn’t anyone from the hotel, was it? That precious little angel perhaps?” She said cheerily, with a wide smile, but Alastor could practically feel the menace roiling off of her. As he suspected, if Rosie learned the truth, this would not stay a friendly conversation.

“No, of course not.” He lied. “I know not to do that. Even if I wished too, Vaggie is far too vigilant and suspicious of me to allow that. No, this woman is unaffiliated with the hotel. A naive girl who is far too trusting and was in need of my power. She needed protection, and some minor services. I’m afraid I can’t disclose her name, discretion was part of the deal.”

‘Damn.’ Already forced to lie. Still, she seemed to have bought it. The menace Alastor had noticed moments earlier had already faded, replaced with the polite interest of an incorrigible gossip who loved to give relationship advice. He wouldn't consider what he has a “relationship” but it’s close enough.

“Sooo,” Rosie began, leaning forward again, “What’s the problem? Can’t control yourself? Scared of getting it on? Need some advice on how to wow her?” She asked, seeming to find each question increasingly humorous. 

Truly, talking to her could be exhausting. Alastor would say he was already reconsidering confiding in her, but he’s not. She’s the closest thing he has to a confidant, and he can’t just go back to the hotel and wait for something to go wrong.

“I am a man,” he said, voice tightening despite his effort to keep it light, “not some animal. Not some degenerate lecher ruled by baser instincts. I am a person of refined tastes. This…” His jaw flexed. “This is not acceptable. I refuse to succumb to these low desires.”

Rosie sipped at her tea before slowly setting it down with deliberate care. “And what do you expect me to do about it?” She questioned.

“You have some… experience in this matter.”

“Carefui now.” She said, wagging her finger. “It’s not polite to insinuate things about a lady.”

Alastor raised his hand up in quick placation. “Nothing of the sort.” he said, just as quickly. “I just meant, you’ve been in a relationship before, you regularly counsel your people on these matters. I thought if anyone could advise me on how to dispel these impulses, or at least subdue them, it would be you.”

“Oh, Alastor,” Rosie said, lifting both hands to her cheeks as if she were blushing. “You flatter me so. Short of willpower or some… self care, there’s not much I can suggest.”

‘Self care? What is she… Oh.’ Alastor’s face scrunched into a displeased grin as he understood her implication.

“But if I might ask a question,” She continued, “why are you so against this?”

Alastor stared at her for a beat, confused. Rosie was a smart woman, it wasn’t like her to miss something so plainly laid out before her like this. “I just told you why,” he said slowly.

“I am a—” 

Rosie cut him off, raising a hand. “Yes, I know,” she interjected, tone light. “You’re a man, not a lascivious beast.”

Alastor quirked his head, annoyed. If she understands, then what doesn’t she get?

Rosie leaned back slightly, still smiling. “Allow me to be more clear,” she said. “You say you’re not an animal, but you have no problem being a savage, violent beast, slaughtering and devouring all who get in your way. I don’t say this to judge of course, this is Hell after all, but why do you draw the line there? You hunt like an animal, what’s wrong with rutting like one?” 

She sipped her tea and waited, eyes meeting Alastor’s.

Alastor ground his teeth. He picked up his glass and threw back the tea like a shot of whiskey. It gave him time to get his thoughts in order, and the burn of hot tea was surprisingly emotionally satisfying.

“Those things aren’t the same.” Alastor said, full of conviction, but he struggled to put into words exactly how they differed. “I…lust…Violence is…controllable.” He frowned, irritated at himself for how uncertain it sounded. “It is more than an outlet. It’s power. It’s leverage. It’s a choice.”

“Power, huh?” Rosie said, clearly not buying it. “Tell you what, let’s circle back to this, okay? Let’s talk about this girl. What is she like? What do you like about her? What do you think of her? Normally, and lately, when you are ‘Plagued by lust.’” She said with finger quotes.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like the direction this was going, but he had come here for advice, and Rosie was the best at this. He exhaled through his nose, deeply considering his answer. What did he think of Charlie? 

“She is… useful,” he said first, clipped. Then his mouth tightened, and he corrected himself. “No. That is not what you asked.”

Rosie’s brows lifted. “It isn’t,” she agreed, tone sweet.

Alastor’s fingers tapped once against his cup before he stilled them. “I enjoy being around her,” he admitted, voice measured. “She is energetic. Stubborn. Idealistic. It is… irritating at times. But it is also consistent.”

Rosie hummed, encouraging him to continue.

“And,” Alastor added, more reluctantly, “I enjoy the power I hold over her.”

Rosie didn’t look surprised. She shouldn’t. It was well established that Alastor enjoyed having power over others. It was half the reason he contacted her, back when he was mortal.

Rosie’s smile sharpened. “Go on.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. “I do not mean in the way you are trying to make it sound.”

“I’m not making it sound like anything,” Rosie said lightly. “You’re doing fine on your own.”

Alastor ignored that. “She has a backbone,” He paused, “And when I remind her of her limits, there is a… satisfaction to it.”

Rosie’s smile didn’t change, but her tone shifted a little. “And the lust?”

Alastor didn’t flinch, but he didn’t answer immediately either. He set his cup down with care, just something to keep his hands occupied.

“It happens,” he said bluntly. “In her presence. Particularly when she is close.”

“How close?” Rosie asked, too quickly.

“Close enough,” He snapped, then forced himself to answer properly. “Being in the same room is enough sometimes, and our…deal, sometimes necessitates physical contact.”

Rosie leaned forward, elbows near the table, eyes bright. “And you enjoy being around her,” she said, as if tasting the words. “You enjoy your power over her. You lust after her. That’s what you’ve told me so far.”

Alastor didn’t confirm it with words, but his silence did enough.

Rosie set her cup down. “Now,” she said, voice still sweet, “how did you feel about her, outside of that?”

Alastor’s gaze sharpened. “What does that mean?”

Rosie spoke like she was explaining something to a stubborn child. “Do you care for her? Do you resent her? Do you feel protective? Do you feel possessive? Tell me what happens when she struggles.”

“When she struggles,” he said carefully, “it is… inconvenient.”

Rosie’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes did. “Inconvenient,” she repeated.

Alastor’s tone turned colder. “She is frustrated when upset. Less entertaining. She becomes harder to manage.”

Alastor sighed, irritated. “Fine. I do not enjoy seeing her distressed,” he admitted. “It is messy and irritating. I do not find myself particularly motivated to help her however. If it can be easily done, or i stand to benefit, I might, otherwise it is easier to simply give her distance and wait”

Rosie tilted her head. “So you don’t want her to be happy. You want her to be manageable.”

Alastor didn’t deny it. He simply felt annoyed that she phrased it that way.

Rosie continued, voice light but sharp underneath. “Do you resent her?”

“No,” He said stiffly, “I resent parts of the situation, I resent some of the frivolous things required of me per our deal. But her? No.”

Rosie smiled as if she’d won a small point. “And do you care for her?”

Alastor’s smile returned, strained. “Not in the way you mean.”

Rosie’s eyes glittered. “So if she cried in front of you—”

“I would prefer she did not,” Alastor cut in.

Rosie chuckled. “Of course you would.”

Rosie leaned back with an inquisitive grin. “We’ve established you enjoy having control. Now tell me what you’ve actually been circling.”

He froze. Does she know? He doesn’t think so. But she will soon if he doesn’t give her an answer. “She has a girlfriend,” he said, clipped.

Alastor didn’t elaborate right away. He just stared at his tea for some time. 

“The girlfriend doesn’t like me,” he said finally. “She watches me. Questions my presence. Questions my intentions. I find her tiresome.”

Rosie’s smile widened, pleased. “And you don’t like her back.”

“No,” Alastor said flatly.

“Aaand?” Rosie prodded.

Alastor’s fingers tapped once against the cup and stopped. “The idea of stealing her away from her girlfriend is… enticing,” he admitted, reluctantly. “In a vengeful sort of way. Taking what is hers…”

Rosie hummed like she’d just gotten the answer she was waiting for. “So you aren’t talking about romance,” she said. “You’re talking about conquest. Spite. And,” she added, voice even, “slaking your lust.”

Rosie rested her elbows on the table and laced her fingers together, expression bright in a way that promised trouble. She watched Alastor like she was studying the angle of a knife.

“Let me ask you something,” she said, tone casual. “Is there really any difference between sleeping with someone because you’re horny, eating someone because you’re hungry, and killing someone because they disrespected you?”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t answer.

Rosie continued anyway, enjoying the silence. “They’re all impulses. All wants. All urges that start in the same place. Desire.” She lifted her cup, sipped, then shrugged. “It isn’t wrong to indulge them, Alastor. Not here. Not in Hell. The only thing that matters is control. You control them. They don’t control you.”

Alastor’s smile tightened at the corners. “That is not the same.”

Rosie’s brows rose. “No?”

“It isn’t,” Alastor said, voice firm. “Eating is necessity. Violence is… functional. It is deliberate.” His jaw set. “Rutting like some savage beast is beneath me.”

Rosie’s smile widened, pleased. “Oh? Beneath you.”

“Yes,” Alastor said, sharper. “I will not debase myself.”

Rosie leaned back in her chair as if she were considering him from a new angle. “And hunting like a savage beast isn’t beneath you?” she asked sweetly. “Because I’ve heard the broadcasts. I’ve heard the screams. Most people would describe your ‘hobbies’ as far more beastly than a quick tumble.”

Alastor’s jaw flexed. “Lust makes people stupid.”

Rosie’s smile sharpened. “So does anger. So does hunger. So does pride.” She tapped a nail against the cup. “Yet you indulge all three when it pleases you.”

Alastor didn’t respond, which made Rosie’s grin widen further.

“Here’s a thought,” Rosie said, voice light. “Maybe you only think it’s beneath you because you’ve never desired it before. You’ve never had to deal with it. You’ve been able to look down your nose at everyone else and call them weak for wanting things.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. “I do not—”

Rosie cut him off with a small wave. “Don’t bother. You do.” She smiled. “And now that you finally feel it, you’re offended at yourself.”

Alastor’s posture stayed perfect, but there was tension in his shoulders. His expression had hardened into something less performative and more real.

Rosie watched him with open interest. “You talk about rutting like it’s the most animal thing imaginable,” she continued, still cheerful. “But when you hunt, you don’t just kill. You chase. You corner. You savor it. You make it public. You make it a performance. You make it messy.” 

Rosie’s voice softened, but not in a kind way. In a teasing way. “You don’t scorn lust because it’s beneath you,” she said. “You scorn it because it’s new.”