volition left you burdened with a curse

dance. dance.

Alastor turns up moments after the finishing touches have been put on the new hotel. It's a bit garish for his tastes - unsurprising, given who was in charge of conjuring up the materials, but he didn't come here to kick up a fuss.

Charlie kicks up plenty in his stead, of course, throwing her arms around him the instant he returns and wasting no time getting right back to business. She's overflowing with such eagerness to usher him inside that she can't seem to stop twirling and jumping in place until he finally allows her to drag him by the sleeve into the hotel's new foyer. It's grand and airy and bright, lit with a functioning, properly hung chandelier that glitters high above them. On the wall hangs a massive portrait of the slippery dunce who tore Alastor's coat, staring regally into the middle distance and surrounded by those dimwitted eggs. A memorial, then, for their sacrifice, and an ostentatious one at that. Alastor has hardly glanced at it before he's steered toward a different room entirely.

All the while as they walk, Charlie is babbling: "We are so happy you finally made it. Where were you? Oh my gosh, I'm so glad you're here, you showed up at the perfect time, we're gonna be opening back up soon and of course we couldn't do that without you because every hotel needs a manager and -"

"Babe." Vaggie steps in front of them, halting the group in its tracks. "Breathe."

"Right. Breathing. Sorry."

Vaggie raises a brow. "Slowly," she says.

"Slowly! I am breathing so slowly right now." Charlie sucks in a long, deep breath, then blows it out directly into Vaggie's face for emphasis. She laughs when Vaggie disgruntledly nudges her bangs back into place, hooking an arm around her shoulders and resuming the crusade through the foyer. "It's just so exciting to have everybody back together!"

The people who make up "everybody" seem to be experiencing vastly different levels of excitement at the moment: Niffty is vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass, Husk and Lucifer sport grimaces that would put storm clouds to shame, Angel seems cautiously optimistic, Vaggie looks... like Vaggie. As they all hurry ahead, Alastor slows his pace to drop behind the herd, absorbing the sight of the space before him as they fan out and find spots to settle.

The sitting room is the gaudiest part of the place yet. A grand marble hearth stands nearly as tall as Alastor against the far wall with serpents and apples and eyes all carved into the stone. A smattering of inviting velvet sofas and plush red cushions populate the space before it. Light pours in through sparkling windows; sconces glow gently at the room's edges. It's all terribly welcoming - and none of its walls have been repeatedly exploded as far as Alastor can ascertain, which is a point in the place's favor.

"We're almost ready for our official grand re-opening," Charlie is saying, "but we've still got some preparations to do. We're working on another commercial, and a newspaper ad for anybody who still actually reads those, and maybe a ribbon-cutting ceremony if we can get anyone to come. Plus, now that you're back, we can have a radio broadcast about it, too!" She drops onto a loveseat with her feet tucked beneath her; Vaggie perches on its arm.

Behind them both, Lucifer stands with his arms folded, his hat barely brushing the mantle of the fireplace, clearly waiting for Alastor to sit down so that he can choose a spot as far away from him as possible. Naturally, Alastor sits on Charlie's other side, driving a quietly fuming Lucifer off to sit on one of the little round poufs right by the fire. Niffty lays on her stomach in the warmth of the flames, kicking her legs up behind her as she plucks bits of dirt from the carpet fibers.

"We're also gonna hang up posters around the city," Charlie says, "once we find someone who can make them - not that we didn't totally love yours, Niffty, we're just aiming for something a little less..."