volition left you burdened with a curse

that's enough.

Alastor's sojourns about town tend to follow a pattern. 1.) He's seen by a sinner. 2.) The sinner goes to the most extreme lengths possible to get out of his sight as quickly as they can. 3.) Someone far enough away to think they're safe takes a photograph. 4.) Rinse and repeat for the entire duration of the journey, then run it back once more on the return trip. He'll lock eyes with the unlucky few who don't start running fast enough — just to terrify them, of course, nothing sinister — and his grin will stretch ever wider as they inevitably faint in the street or begin to cry.

Today, one of the passers by deviates from this routine. A little variety is always more than welcome, especially since Alastor's opportunities to wreak havoc have grown so few and far between in recent months. In short, the fact that someone has been tailing him for the last four blocks is hardly a bother at all. On the contrary — it's a treat.

Whoever's pursuing him is being terribly unsubtle about it; when they first came up the opposite sidewalk, they froze in place, gawking at him from across the street like they were seeing a ghost. (A ghost whom they hated a great deal.) It was hard to miss their heavy footfalls tromping through traffic, and harder still to ignore the sound of them pounding along behind him. Every so often, this stalker of his audibly shoulders someone out of their way just to maintain their pace, sending people stumbling with a "Hey!" or a "Watch it!" As amusing as it's been to hear the chaos they're raining upon these poor pedestrians, Alastor figures it would be best to get this altercation over with before whoever is behind him has the time to actually piece together a plan of attack.

He steers them down a side street, then from that side street to an alley, then from that alley to another, walking with confident strides that convey a sense of urgency and purpose. Once he feels that they're far enough from the bustling street for anyone to hear an errant scream, he stops walking. "I'm sensing a bit of tension, my friend," Alastor says, turning neatly on his heel. "Is there something you'd like to discuss?"

He finds himself facing a shark demon in a suit that might appear to be expensive at first glance, but which actually has a mismatched button sewn on at the neck and greenish stains around the cuffs (which have no cufflinks — how embarrassing). They visibly fight the impulse to back away, then lose to it, stumbling back in the direction from which the two of them came. Unfortunately for the shark, the alley behind them has turned into a gaping maw of darkness, forcing them to edge closer to Alastor instead.

"Well, don't just stand there." Alastor gives his cane a twirl, then plants it firmly in front of him, both hands resting casually atop it to indicate that he can just stand here all he likes. "If there's business to attend to, let's attend to it. I'm a busy man." He watches with rapidly draining patience as the shark fishes for their composure. By the time they pull themself together, Alastor is deliberating between picking them up and throwing them across the city or trapping them inside of a ten-hour-long nightmare. It's lucky for them that they speak up when they do.

"You ate my brother, you old-timey fuck." A menacing mask has been fixed firmly in place over their panicked expression; it would very nearly be convincing if Alastor weren't already so familiar with what lies underneath. They bare their rows of teeth like they think it's intimidating.

"Pardon my rudeness, but I do eat quite a lot of people," Alastor says, widening his smile to match. He's only got the one set of teeth, of course, but he wears them much more impressively. "Whoever he was, though, I'm certain he deserved it."

"Not as much as you deserve to get your ass beat," the shark growls. (Alastor is already imagining all the ways he could torture them.) "He was one of the guys who came collectin' for your floozy friend Mimi, or whatever that bitch is called." (The visions become notably more graphic. Maybe he'll start with the knees.) "He turned up to do a job, and you ate him, you fuckin' freak."