Deadly Kiss.

Mind Numb.

Asher was thankful when Lucifer left, the iconic King having given the doe a migraine after things had settled down. Her sleep deprived self could only handle so much and her mind pulsing with pain was nothing short of annoying.

Asher despised having migraines, migraines made her emotionally numb to many things, and being sleep deprived brought out a much more unstable side of her that she wasn't ready for anyone at the Hazbin Hotel to see.

And so to keep herself from crashing or lashing out at someone, Asher decided to keep herself busy by sitting at the bar and strumming her guitar absentmindedly. The tv was on, some sort of show was playing as Angel Dust and Sir Pentious relaxed on separate couches to watch it, not paying any mind to Asher as she occupied herself with her instrument.

Husker leaned against the counter and observed her, she was more quiet than usual.

Alastor was in his room eating, Charlie was brainstorming ideas and Vaggie had mentioned needing time to herself.

"What's on that little mind of yours, Asher?" Husker asked, tilting his head slightly.

Asher doesn't respond, continuing to simply let her fingers glide over the strings elegantly.

Husk is about to ask again, when she stops playing and turns to him, her black ears furrowed against her head.

"Lucifer is loud." She says simply.

He notices the droop in her eyelids, and figures out what was truly wrong very quickly.

"He is the King of Hell, kid." Husk says with a shrug, getting Asher a glass of ice and pouring a small bit of tequila into it. Something light to take her mind off things.

"You'd think that would make him respectable, not loud, pompous and a prideful son of a bitch who can't tell when someone's not interested in him." She growls, sipping the alcohol.

Alastor strolls into the parlor, seemingly satisfied. He approaches the bar, wanting nothing to do with the tv or either of the demons watching it.

"Hello my dear, hello Husker." He greets, setting his staff against the bar top as he sat down.

Asher waved with a small smile and Husk grunted, pouring Alastor a glass of whiskey.

Asher still donned the waist coat, the scent it gave off was comforting and she'd smelt it on Alastor a few times, so she was satisfied with it despite the scent lulling her her into a half-asleep state that she kept desperately pulling herself out of.

"Are you alright, Ash?" Alastor asked, shocking himself with the shortened version of her name he'd heard Midnight use to address the doe.

Unknowingly, this was what Asher needed to be set off into a rant.

"You know what, Alastor?" She asked, and the Radio Demon turned his full attention to the doe.

"I'm not okay. I'm in Hell because I was a killer, I killed myself because I killed the guy who raped me which by the way he still tries to find ways to harass me," she begins, her ears furrowing again as her hand clutches the laple of her waist coat.

"Lucifer kept staring at me like I was a piece of meat, my mind is becoming darker and darker everyday, I haven't slept in what feels like an eternity, the extermination is right around the damned corner, oh and on top of that everyday I'm tested and end up revealing more power than I wanted to you and everyone else and I become increasingly hungry for blood and flesh." She growls, hands gripping her black and white hair.

Alastor's brows furrow and his grin is tight while he thinks.

He stands abruptly, grabbing his staff and then grabbing Asher's hand. He tugs her to stand before guiding her towards the stairs with his hand on the small of her back.

"Alastor.. what are you doing?" Asher questioned.

He doesn't answer right away, and she doesn't have the energy to press him or fight against him guiding her down the halls.

They stop outside of Asher's room, and Alastor opens the door before nudging her inside. "Get into comfortable clothes, I'll be right in." He orders before closing her door.

She does as she's told, slipping into a pair of loose fitting red pajama pants that hung on her hips and a thin baggy black T-shirt, exposing the white starry freckles that painted her arms and collarbones.

She's taking off her jewelry when Alastor re-enters her bedroom, closing the door behind him. He's still dressed to the nines, but he slips his dress shoes off as well as his waist coat by the door, hanging his coat on the doorknob.

"Lay down, my dear. I'll stay while you rest." He says, sitting at her bedside with a book.

She tilts her head, one of her ears laying flat against her head as she reluctantly crawls into her bed. Alastor snaps and the electric lights in her room are snuffed out, leaving only a few simple candles to cast the room in a dim glow.

Soon after, Alastor's static filled voice is reading passages from the book he'd brought, his voice successfully lulling the doe into a somewhat peaceful rest.