When the drink arrives Alastair heaves a large sigh, no doubt another hopeless human entranced by the cut of his jaw and the aloofness that reminds them of whatever wattpad bdsm trash they're reading. He doesn't notice the note for a moment, but when he does, his eyes snap directly to hers.
How implausible.
"Arthritis" he says, smile splitting slow and wide as he makes his way towards her (trivia be damned). "Well this is even worse than I thought. Have some self respect Beelzebub."
He chuckles, smile blinding and sweeps her decrepit human body into a crushing hug, slapping her back with bruising force. "Ah, you bitch. It's called standards. You wouldn't know what those are, which is why it's no surprise to find you here."
The force of his hug hurts, but she doesn't mind. It's nice, actually, in its own way, and when she hugs him back her arms barely close around him. Of course this is the body he'd pick. Idiot.
"What, among degenerates and time bombs? Of course I'm here. Look around, dear heart."
"I have," he laughs derisively, enormously pleased to be in the presence of his...words defied what he, Beelzebub, and Lucifer were to eachother. They pre-existed such human things. "You've found the bottom of the barrel with these ones haven't you. Was the portly vampire clown your doing?" He sips his below average drink, sighing again.
"I'd never heard of him prior to this whole," She gestures broadly, "thing. But what of your vampire, hmm? I heard he beat the piss out of my vampire."
She slurps her drink with relish, despite it being average.
"Yes, it was actually fairly embarrassing for the both of them. Like two bumbling high school fucks in a budget play the rest of us were forced to sit through," he shrugs. "A decapitation would have been far more what the occasion demanded."
"Come closer," she encourages with a little tut as she leans in conspiratorially. "I want to know the real gossip. Tell me everything there is to know about your punky little friends. We'll exchange, hmm? One for one."
"Absolutely the fuck not," he responds easily, the space both need to travel to actually be conspiratorial given the height difference of their chosen bodies is ridiculous (comical). "You and I are questing rivals."
"If you could call it a rivalry," she idles. To anyone else it might sound innocent and unassuming, but he knows her too well. "Come on. I want to have a little fun."
"That's what you said last time," he drawls, unimpressed. "And because of your tantrum, you were without my sterling company for a century as a result," he tisks. "But fine, ladies first."
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THREADS: Alastair & Bee
Or, at the very least, she decides to act on it before he can.
She scrawls a little note written in Latin on a bar napkin and sends it to Alastair along with an Old Fashioned.
It reads: I found you.
THREADS: Alastair & Bee
How implausible.
"Arthritis" he says, smile splitting slow and wide as he makes his way towards her (trivia be damned). "Well this is even worse than I thought. Have some self respect Beelzebub."
THREADS: Alastair & Bee
"Astaroth. Why are you trying so hard? You're lucky I'm here. Relax, you stuffy fuck."
THREADS: Alastair & Bee
THREADS: Alastair & Bee
"What, among degenerates and time bombs? Of course I'm here. Look around, dear heart."
THREADS: Alastair & Bee
THREADS: Alastair & Bee
She slurps her drink with relish, despite it being average.
THREADS: Alastair & Bee
THREADS: Alastair & Bee
THREADS: Alastair & Bee
THREADS: Alastair & Bee
THREADS: Alastair & Bee
THREADS: Alastair & Bee