nomoreroom | An Alastor RP Catchall

God the screaming. You think after all these centuries Raphael would be used to it but he wasn't like his triplet Michael. He had been made for healing, not battle. Mentally he reminded himself that the victim was a monster. He swallowed a deeper swig of his flask before closing it back around his neck again.

"As you wish." Raphael nodded and the sound of the dog howling gave him the confirmation he needed. The angel got up from his spot on the wall and snapped his fingers although it seemed like nothing happened.

"Do they have beignets in Hell?" He asked him casually as he got up to open the truck door.

Alastor, of course, didn't even act like he heard it, flicking off what looked suspiciously like gray matter from the top of his cane before tossing the used bone splinter off to the side. No he doesn't care about any crime scene investigators, he's already dead. What are they going to do? Dig down to Hell and double execute him?

If they were going into town though, no doubt to be seen by others... it might be a good idea to look a little less like a horrifying deer-man abomination. He's giving his options a good think, as Raphael asked his question.

"Of course they do! It's Hell, so they aren't any good, but they have them! Why do you ask?" There's... a vague threat in that tone, way, way in the back of it.

This road trip better not be ending immediately back in the Pentagram, he followed those rules and he expects proper payment for them.

Raphael climbed into the truck and started its ignition magically. He turned and opened the passenger side door of the car for Alastor.

"Because I'm hungry. We're a good ten minutes drive from Baton Rouge and I know a place opened late that makes them fresh. Don't worry about your form, my aura's cloaking it. As long as you don't wander too far we're just another couple of men in a shitty pick up truck."

"Angels get hungry, huh? Color me surprised, I thought you all lived off sunbeams and happy thoughts." In he went, openly fascinated by the innards of the truck. Hey, died in the 1930s, even a shitty old beater like this was far different than what he was ever used to.

"What's these?" A cheerful tone with a tug on a seat belt.

Oh. Yes. No seat belts in the 1930s either, he'd have no clue, tinkering almost pleasantly with the clip the belt was supposed to lock into.

"It's..." Raphael tried to find the best word for it, "It's not like human hunger. Hmm, give me a minute to describe it." He'd ignore that sunbeams line.

"Oh yes." Raphael turned to him, "I suppose there'll be quite a few things you'll find new. Those are seat belts. They became a staple in cars in the 50's to reduce deaths by car accident. They didn't become a mandatory law until the eighties. Just put the metalic bit into the little plastic bit there with the band over your waist."

"Are you hungry, or just bored?" As a former human, he could definitely personally attest to the fact that sometimes the two got a bit mixed up.

"Well, we don't need the night interrupted by cops, now do we?" If it'd just been 'put your seat belt on or you'll die', he'd have laughed himself sick before removing the whole damn belt from the car just to be contrary.

But unknowing of how the world was now... best not to encounter the police and fuck everything up. With a click, the seat belt was on, the demon then immediately going to fuss with the radio of the car.

"And this is what the radio looks like now, huh? FM? That actually took off, huh? Shame I died, I invested money in that."

"That!" He pointed at Alastor, "That's it! It's like a boredom craving. Humans eat because they need to survive and I just like the way it feels on my tongue." God it was good the radio demon pointed that too. Otherwise it was just gonna be on the tip of Raphael's tongue all night.

"That would be preferable." The angel nodded as he started the drive onto the paved street towards I-10. Car radios were a lot smaller now and built into the car. "Yeah, FM is used more for music and AM for news and more community radio stuff. There's an XM now although this man didn't have it. Gives off a much clearer sound. Go ahead and mess with it. I'm partial to just about anything."

"So if you're bored enough to eat down here, does that make heaven that much more of a gas?" He's curious, okay? Genuinely curious. He's not so simple as to just believe it when a bunch of bitter, rowdy drunks inform him that heaven is for boring squares and nothing interesting happens up there.

There has to be a reason people see it as a reward, after all.

"Sounded just fine on AM." He invested because he wanted to be rich. ... More rich. He wouldn't have dug in his heels about it even if he hadn't, can't stand against progress, but there was something preferable to the old sound. A thought he made obvious as he openly just picked AM. Nothing by way of music that he figured he'd like, he'd heard snippets of what was popular in this current year. No thank you.

"Is...is heaven a what?" He asked confused. Raphael knew some slang but this...he couldn't tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

As for the radio choice Raph gave a small smile.

"Let me help you out." He switched back to FM but the radio station he chose played a Big Band oldie song from 1937.

"A hoot! A riot! A blast! Is it fun up there, feathers?" To be fair, not a lot of people used the phrase 'a gas' anymore, but Alastor was, technically, an old man.

He was about to argue about switching back to FM, the crackle and hiss of the static pleasantly nostalgic, but as the beginning's of 'Minnie the Moocher' suddenly blasted brazenly from the speakers, he finally, immediately, shut up, his eyes lighting up.

Perfect.

Normally that would earn Alastor another 'deer' nickname but at an actual positive question about Raphael's side of the tracks he let it pass.

"Well we do have Cab Calloway." He told him as he kept his eyes on the road and drove into Baton Rouge itself.

"Just like there is every kind of blessed person in existence there is every kind of amusement. Since in our case people are mostly good we live in an...well, an almost political anarchy. We don't need laws or regulations because no one can accidentally die and people are pretty good natured."

See, he can ask nice things every now and again.

He'd really gotten into Cab, the last few years of his life. Really a pity, he was going to see him live at some point before the... incident. Though he now appeared to be distracted by the life outside of the windows of the truck, the simple fact that those ears had rotated back were proof enough he was still listening.

"So Hell!" Well, no, but let him elaborate-

"No point in making rules because of the general population."

It made sense. It was the people that made a place enjoyable or miserable. Heaven or Hell. Proverbs 15:17 and all.

Raph noticed Alastor's fascination with the change the modern world made and started to look for parking.

"What part of Lousiana are you from?" He asked.

Hell is other people, and likewise so was heaven, just like earth! It was just a matter of the asshole to angel ratio that was different.

"Why, New Orleans, of course!"

He'd seen city lights before, of course, he'd been to Baton Rouge before, how could he not? But it'd grown since the thirties, lights and sounds he'd never seen, the sheer size of the buildings and the absolute amount of people more on par with the hectic buzz of the Pentagram than what he originally remembered, all countered with the soothing pitch black of the sky, rather than the hellfire orange of the pit.

He was obviously eager to get out, one hand already locked on the handle of the door.

"Well, that's not too far. It's only an hour away, maybe forty five if there's no traffic."

Seeing Alastor's hand on the handle though suggested that might be too much of a car ride. Instead Raphael parked on a side street and turned off the car. After manipulating the parking meter he turned back to Alastor.

"The beignet place is around the corner if you want or we could just walk."

New Orleans would still be there the next time Heaven wanted him out and about. With one hundred years to do his job, at some point in time, he was positive he'd be seeing the city again, sooner rather than later.

Indeed, Raphael was right to assume that the demon wouldn't tolerate sitting in the car for too much longer, and he was out and no doubt hovering about just barely within range of the angel the second the car was parked.

"And turn down my first decent beignet in years? Not a chance. Doesn't take all night to eat a couple beignets, we got plenty of time to walk around."

"If you wish." The angel replied sticking his hands in his pockets and walking down the sidewalk.

"It's your first night out of the pit so I was gonna let you take point on this."

Raphael went to the shack to order a small box of the fried dough goodness. He brought them to one of the nearby tables.

"So what is the appeal of 'down there'?" He asked as he took a bite. Mm, God bless humans and their culinary prowess.

"Don't plan on letting me have run of the trip next time?" None of these trips up better be up and back again, goddamnit.

He's picked a table, nice and out of the way of everyone else, at a perfect vantage point to... you know, watch everyone that could possibly come in.

He snagged one for himself, as the box was set down in front of him, immediately popping it into his mouth.

"Easy, mobility! It's all about potential upward movement!" He chewed thoughtfully, enjoying the treat for a second, before continuing.

"Well, downward movement, to you, I can only suppose."

"I'm trying to be nice." Raphael lifted a brow at him. He could only imagine what eighty five years in a cramp, territorial pentagram could be like.

The angel chewed his treat thoughtfully as he thought about the whole predicament. To be honest this was the first in many thousands of years he ever thought of the damned except how to get rid of them.

"A hypothetical question, our deal is still good. If you couldn't reincarnate, couldn't go back to earth, would you stay in Hell? Would anyone down there?"

"Sure, right now! But what about next time? And the time after that? I don't mind playing nice with you every time we come up here, so long as we get a little union break top side."

Another beignet vanished down that fanged maw, Alastor chuckling.

"Now let's not talk about things that won't happen." Or rather, he'd rather not talk about something that could happen, in case it did.

Didn't want to foil any plan B's, just in case he still needed them.

"As for everyone else! I don't think they have much of a choice, now do they? Not like they can just walk out."

"Like I said, I'm in no hurry to go to Hell unless I have to. I have no problem being 'top side.'" He replied, "I guess what I'm trying to ask is do you like it in Hell? If there were no exterminators, no Final Judgement, would Hell be 'your people' as Charlie calls them?"

Now was Alastor worried Heaven would turn his back on him?

"Now, why would you be asking me a thing like that, Raphael?" Ah. He did know his name.

That expression remained ever relaxed, and he rolled the next beignet between his fingers, the claws sinking here and there into the soft, warm dough.

"This doesn't have anything to do with business."

He should be happy that it isn't an annoying nickname. But the use of his actual name sent a shiver of danger down his spine as if he'd forgotten that Alastor was an actual demon in every sense of the word.

"Isn't it?" Raphael asked lightly, "Considering the Final Judgement and all."

He took the last pastry never taking his eyes off the serial killer.

Still a demon, and meeting the angel's eyes with that same, permanent, unreadable smile.

"Raphael." A laugh, static turning harsh what must have once been such a jovial, bubbly sound.

"The deal's already done. The only way this conversation could be relevant is if you planned on breaking that deal.

But, an angel wouldn't do that, right? Lying to a demon, lying to a human, lying to anyone else, lying's a sin.

And you wouldn't sin. I know you wouldn't." Vaguely, but quite perceptively, the static grew sharper, light flickering just behind the demon's eyes as one long, sharp claw peeled away a piece of the dough.

"You wouldn't lie to me."

Damn it that smile was slowly grating on him. Raphael didn't have problems showing his true colors but the fact that Alastor was constantly unreadable was bothering him.
Right now the angel was looking nervous that he had made a mistake, paranoid of the demon's true intentions.

No, this couldn't be a mistake. It was sealed by God. Then again God worked in mysterious ways.

"I can't break the deal. It's bound by Heaven." Raphael answered slowly. True...unless Gabriel could find a loophole.

"That still doesn't mean I can't ask how you think or feel about things." He continued on cautiously, "You wouldn't hide things from me, would you?"

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