Our Night [RADIOAPPLE]

3 ~ His Smile

Chapter 3

HIS SMILE

That night, Alastor sat down at the bar. Husk gave him a look before pouring him a glass of rye, already knowing what the Radio Demon wanted before he said it. He guided the glass across the bar counter with his finger. Alastor gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

Alastor picked up the glass and took a few sips, letting the alcohol slide over his tongue a bit before he swallowed. His eyes fluttered shut as he rested his head in his hand.

It was silent for a moment more before Husk spoke. “You're in a good mood . . .” he said, seeming suspicious. Alastor's eyes opened and his gaze drifted over to the bartender.

“Yes,” the overlord said. “Why wouldn't I be?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“It's been a lovely day for the most part, I don't have any reason to not be in a good mood,” he said.

The winged cat behind the bar just rolled his eyes, his elegant red and black wings slumping as he polished a glass. “Yeah . . . sure,” he muttered.

Alastor just smirked at him before he focused on his drink again, not really caring for the whole interaction.

A bit later, a set of light footsteps were heard descending down to the first floor. There was a brief pause, before the sound started approaching the bar.

“Mind if I join you for a bit?”

Alastor looked over his shoulder at the king of Hell, before nodding toward a bar stool as he brought his drink up to his lips and sipped on it. He supposed some company other than the demon he quite literally owned would be at least a little nice.

Lucifer sat down on the bar stool Alastor had gestured to and looked at Husk. “A cocktail. Please,” he said, a bit of an awkward tone seeping through his casual facade.

Husk nodded. He grabbed a glass and poured Lucifer’s drink. He slid the glass across the bar to Lucifer, who gladly took it. “Thank you,” the king said, taking a sip from his drink.

He looked over at Alastor, who was simply sitting there with his drink. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be somewhat relaxed as he sipped on his rye. He observed the overlord's mannerisms for a few moments before looking away with a small smile.

A bit later, the two were still at the bar. Husk had headed off to his room and left them with a couple bottles of various alcohols for them to choose from if they were staying there for a while.

They were, in fact, at the bar for a while.

Eventually, Lucifer spoke to Alastor. “So . . . remind me why we hate each other again . . . ?” he said, not thinking straight with the alcohol he had in his system.

Alastor looked over at the king of Hell, cocking an eyebrow. “Pardon?” he said, and before Lucifer would respond: “I feel no hatred toward you. Just a strong dislike from the moment I saw you.”

Lucifer scoffed, though clearly hadn't actually taken the comment to heart. A small smile appeared on his face. “Right, right, sure,” he said. “But why? What'd I do?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he gave Alastor a look of amusement. He rested his head in the palm of his hand as he waited for an answer.

“Nothing at all,” Alastor said. “Sorry, how many drinks have you had since you sat on that stool? I wouldn't have taken the king of Hell to be such a lightweight,” he teased.

Lucifer's cocky smirk dropped as Alastor started to tease and mock him. He rolled his eyes. “I guess I have my answer as to why I don't feel too strongly for you,” he said.

Alastor smirked before taking a sip of what must have been his sixth glass of whiskey. “I suppose you do,” he said, not breaking eye contact with the king, who gave him an annoyed stare.

Lucifer huffed and looked away from Alastor, turning his head to face the bar counter. He eyed the overlord from the corner of his eye.

After a while, he spoke. “I have a question,” he said, looking away from Alastor for a split second before looking back at him. He turned his head to face the overlord again.

“And what would that be?” Alastor questioned, raising an eyebrow. Lucifer hesitated for a moment before speaking again.

“How come you're always smiling like that? Does your face not hurt?” the king questioned, pointing at the large grin on Alastor's face with curiosity and confusion written all over his face.

Alastor laughed, looking up at the ceiling as he tried to think of a plausible way to respond. “It's . . . ah, how shall I explain this?” he muttered. “It's a sort of natural thing, I suppose, would be the best way to explain.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Oh, bullshit,” he said. “No one's face naturally has a big-ass smile on it, except for the cannibals, but even then, theirs isn't permanent.”

Alastor shook his head, letting out a breath before taking a few large swigs from a bottle of liquor. “It's as true a statement as I can give you, so take it or leave it,” he said.

Lucifer huffed, turning his head away. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. He took a sip of his third drink, a glass of whiskey. Unlike Alastor, he actually took the time to pour himself glasses. He had class.

Alastor smirked at him, before taking a few more large swigs from the bottle of liquor in his hand, finishing up the first half of the bottle.