The piano had started randomly playing, and you had yelped and fallen on your ass out of your turns immediately. "What the-?!"
"Oh, please, don't let me stop you!" said a familiar radio-static voice who peeked his head from behind the grand piano. "Continue, dear, please, continue!"
Alastor.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" you hissed, scrambling to your feet and your face flushing with embarrassment. He was disrupting your space, invading your personal time to cry without crying, to be yourself without anyone seeing how you truly felt on the inside. And he was taking that away from you.
"Oh, my apologies," taunted Alastor. He gripped the chair behind the piano casually and tilted his head, the sick fuck enjoying your flustered state. "Did I strike a nerve?"
That annoying ass motherfucker, you thought in fury. How dare he come here? How did he even know you were here? When did he sneak in? What did he want?
You took a deep breath, balking your fists together. No. You couldn't let him see you so disheveled, so angry. You had to show him you were better than him.
You shot him a gentle smile, crossing your arms together. "No. I'm fine. Simply splendid, Alastor."
"Lovely!" he said, clasping his hands together. He turned around swiftly in the chair. "Then continue your beautiful dancing, my love."
Your face flushed, both in anger and flattery. Something burned deep within your core. "Tell me what you're doing here first. How did you find me? What do you want?"
"So many questions..." he said with a sigh, his grin ever-the-wider and his teeth seemingly glowing in the pale red light seeping in from outside. "...Little fawn, it doesn't take a genius like Fitzgerald to determine your location. You are a dancer, after all, of course you would be here."
Duh. You mentally facepalmed. You should have assumed that already. Instead, your mind had first went to Angel Dust, guessing angrily that he had sold you out to the Radio Demon. But Angel was the closest thing to a genuine friend you had at the hotel, and despite your extreme distrust of people, objectively, now that you truly think about it, you don't see him doing that to you. The only person that can truly tolerate Alastor in that hotel is Charlie and Niffty.
"Fitzgerald?" you smirked. "God, you're old as shit. Of course you would bring him up. You were born in his time, weren't you?"
"I wouldn't be trying to insult me with one of the most influential authors in American literature in the twenties, dear [Y/N]," he retorted. "It's not exactly as impactful as you may think."
You rolled your eyes. "Okay. Cut the shit. What do you want, Alastor?"
"I'll tell you," began Alastor, his grin reaching his ears. "If you finish your dance."
You gave him a look as if saying "are you fucking serious." He only smiled more.
"Please," he added simply.
"Fine," you agreed sharply. You turned your back to him and prepared to dance, but he stopped you with a question.
"And I get to play along?" asked Alastor, gesturing to the grand piano in front of him. You rolled your eyes, saying again:
"Fine."
And so he began to play. It was awkward at first. You didn't recognize the piece initially, so it took you a moment to find your rhythm. You eyes lit up when you did realize what the song was however, and you found the beat and spun and leaped and moved to it like it was a second language. It came so easily for you, dance.
Unbeknownst to you, Alastor stared at you in awe, his hands fluidly hitting the keys from muscle memory (he had a piano in his home as a child he would play often when he was bored). He may have hated you, but you were simply a flawless dancer. He noticed you struggled to find your rhythm in the beginning, but aside from that, every movement that came from you had no mistakes.
Alastor was entranced.
He was in awe that a human — er, Demon — could so perfectly emit movements from her body so effortlessly, how a person so naturally gorgeous and sexy could make dance look like it was as uncomplicated as taking a breath, how a person so witty, intelligent, and fiery as you could switch between that and grace, gentleness, and delicacy like it was nothing.
It was almost motherly, that gentleness. It felt safe, comforting, and engrossing. Alastor was attracted to it.
He mentally slapped himself. What was he thinking? Aside from that walking failure of a television Vox, you were his sworn enemy. You hated him. He... hated you. But you were entrancing, he could not deny that. You were absolutely and completely mesmerizing to look at, and fuck, he would give anything to touch you.
Shit. He missed a key. Frustrated and flustered, he stopped entirely. You halted your dancing and turned around, grinning, but struggling to catch your breath from the physical exertion of such intense and passionate dancing.
"Your... hands... tired?" you licked your lips, feeling triumphant.
Alastor laughed, his anxiety coming out with it from his previous intrusive thoughts about you... about touching you... He could envision it — your perfect, slim and athletic body under his, your round, perfect breasts bouncing as he fuc—
He stopped himself right there. Fuck fuck fuck. He couldn't think straight. What was happening to him? He saw you naked in that tub once and he hadn't thought about it since until now. He thought he would never be interested in a person sexually like this, man or woman, and here he is, distracted and making a fool out of himself in front of you.
"O-Of course not!" Alastor exclaimed, stammering. Shit shit shit. "Just made a mistake, is all!" He stood up suddenly, dusting off his coat. "I think it's about time we wrap it up anyway."
"I didn't know you made mistakes, Alastor," you said smugly, your southern accent dripping from the words. You felt overconfident from his strange, nervous demeanor, but you also found yourself wondering intensely what it was all about. Why did he seem so anxious?
"I don't," said Alastor simply. He seemed to be coming down from his disheveled state, fixing his bow tie. He cleared his throat.
"Fine then," you said, crossing your arms again. You had caught your breath by now. "Now that I've put on a little performance for you like you asked me, explain why you're here."
Alastor grabbed his staff which had been leaned on the side of the piano. His hands danced upon it as he took a few steps towards you. "Yes, of course. Let's put this very simply, little fawn—" his eyes met yours, and your heart leaped, "—you have not answered my proposal. It's been over a week. Do you want your soul back, or not?"
You narrowed your eyes. "Of course I do."
"Then are you going to help me with my... favor?" he asked.
You blushed. That sounded rather suggestive.
"Yes," you said eventually, remembering Husk's input at the bar about what he would do if he were in your situation.
Then, suddenly, your long brown hair fell out of its bun magically, the black ribbons falling like feathers down to the floor, and you hair began to float around you. You felt your ears lengthen and your black and yellow eyes glow like neon stars. Your sharp teeth grew even sharper. You walked closer to Alastor and stuck out your hand, your voice sinister and warped.
"I'll do whatever you ask, given that you give my soul back after it's done. Do we have a deal?"
You began to smile, the sharp grin spreading across your lips. Alastor mirrored this action, the air picking up around you and the room electrifying with pink and neon green light. His black antlers grew to an immense size atop his head, and his body physically grew larger. His eyes were black and his bright red irises were radio dials. His voice was also disfigured. He glanced at your hand, then back up at you.
"Trying to make a deal, now are we?" His voice sent shivers down your spine. You nodded. "You know, that's usually my thing."
You smirked, your grin and teeth growing even sharper. "It's my thing too, Alastor. Plus, it's the only way I know that I can trust you."
"And you'll do whatever I ask?" His voice glitched in and out. His head began to slowly tilt to the side menacingly.
"Whatever you ask, as long as I get back what is rightfully mine."
He brought his hand to yours and clasped it around, knowing that his plan was setting itself into motion. He laughed evilly.
"Deal."