You Again ~ Alastor [Hazbin Hotel] (FINISHED)

~4~ Deal. ~4~

I nervously approach the red door of the recording studio.

Maybe... maybe I was so wasted last night, that I... just... IMAGINED everything that happened.

I mean- what are the chances that THE Alastor, THE host of 'Smile', RECOGNISED someone as small as me and OFFERED a job out of the blue after a short conversation at a bar? That's crazy!

I looked down at the papers I was holding. The content was fine, but the handwriting was messy because of the circumstances in which it was written.
I wrote it late at night, while being drunk, excited and tired. I even fell asleep on it a bit before sunrise, causing the paper to be crumpled and uneven. By some miracle, I didn't drool on it.

Even with my few hours of sleep, my anxiety kept me energised.
What if I mess up?
What if I say a wrong fact?
What if I'm boring?

And- again- what if I just imagined everything?

"The door won't open itself, dear."
A playful voice behind me made me jump.
He leaned on the wall, playing with a key.

"Uh- sir- good afternoon!"
I blurted out, clearing the way.
I didn't even know the door was locked.

He paused before using the key and turned around, slightly tilting his head to the side.
"Sir?"

"Um, sorry, right, Alastor."
I corrected.

"This isn't how you called me last night, dear. What was it...?"
He tried to recall.

My eyes widened.
We WHAT last night??

"It was... uh... I told you to drop the formalities so you called me..."
He noticed my expression.
"GOD NO, NONE OF THAT! NEVER.
You simply came up with a fun nickname when we shook hands..."

"Oh!"
I was relieved, but also completely red from embarrassment. Luckily, he was too busy trying to remember than to dwell on the matter.

He opened the door, and I was amazed.
This is a dream come true.
The studio was so cosy, I wanted to compliment him on that.

"Al- WOAH!"
I almost tripped on a cable, but Alastor stabilised me back before I could fall.

He laughed.
"That's it! It was Al!"

His joking mood and big smile made me less worried about my new job.

Looks like I wasn't hallucinating yesterday night after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My fingers were running through the typewriter as I was printing the first draft of the article. It's been going well enough.

OUCH!
DAMN IT.
I think I hurt my finger.
Enough typing for now.

I heard some commotion going on downstairs. Intrigued, I exited my room and started going downstairs.

"Vaggie is right, Alastor. The commercial was to let sinners know we are trying to help them."
I heard Charlie trying to explain.

Tch. They let him FILM a commercial?
The man could barely take still-pictures with cameras from our time.