nomoreroom | An Alastor RP Catchall

Big talk from a being who claims a hundred years is a 'long time'. Try a thousand years and then we'll talk.

"Most dance halls were replaced by night clubs in the 1980s. With modern music people stopped swinging and waltzing. Now it's more of a bump and grind." Raphael replied thoughtfully, "Although there are one or two places in most major cities that throw dance 'events' so swing isn't dead yet. Jazz clubs are still plentiful though. I could take you to a place where they do old style big band and jazz."

Feathers now, feathers forever.

He'd been aware that time passed, of course. Plenty of people in Hell from every era, he'd seen the change of styles and language and philosophy.

... Sort of philosophy. Not a lot of deep thinkers in Hell, those tended to hover sadly around in purgatory.

In any case, he still seemed genuinely a bit disgruntled to hear dance halls had fallen out of style in favor of loud, dark clubs, one long tail tapping against a razor fang. He didn't go to a dance hall to get touched, and it'd be hard to keep his end of the deal if he ended up getting grabbed in a night club.

The ears visibly pricked more however as Raphael mentioned that jazz clubs were still a thing, though. "Can't replace the classics." At least jazz stayed. "Eight hours of jazz sounds like a swell time to me! Let's get going, I want to maximize my time out here."

Oh God.

With that the angel lead him down the street and around the corner. There was a club that played up the whole 'vintage' theme.

"ID?" The bouncer asked since this place did serve alcohol. Raph took a quick look around to make sure no one was close and watching before waving a hand in front of the bouncer really quick.

The man seemed stunned and then confused. He stepped to the side for a moment to let them through.

"He'll have a false memory of seeing them." Raphael told Alastor as he motioned the demon to follow him in.

Inside were many white tables they could sit at while a live jazz band played on stage. Keys, trumpets, cellos, and singers. A bar was on the right side of the room.

"Going for a post war feel I see." Raph remarked looking at the decorations as he sat down.

Oh Alastor had absolute faith that the angel would think of something to get them in. The demon perhaps would have simply snagged a fake ID out of the ether, why not? Leave a few calling cards here and there of a man long dead, leave some people guessing. The allure of still getting mentioned in a public venue, eighty five years later, was still, as ever, highly tempting.

Naturally, however, it'd seem Raphael had a more subtle approach to this. He could appreciate it.

But it wasn't as fun.

Entering the club past the befuddled bouncer, he was quickly able to pick out just what was authentic, and what was clearly either a more modern take or... well, just there for aesthetic. To be fair, there wasn't a lot out of place. It was very, very easy for him to slip into the comfortable illusion that no time had passed at all, and that it was indeed still 1933, now that the noise and lights of the modern city were behind them. Long claws were already drumming to the beat against his cane as he immediately placed the song they'd picked for the stage.

He almost didn't even notice Raphael was still there until the angel spoke again.

The demon tilted his head towards him a touch, still watching the band on stage.

"You eat, so do you drink too, feathers? Ever have a mint julep?" He was an angel, Alastor hardly expected Raphael to be capable of getting drunk of all things.

But you didn't drink alone, it was a social thing.

Well the Lord was fond of a well fermented 'blood of grapes' as the bible put it so alcohol wasn't unheard of. Still drinking seemed to be something more popular among the blessed than the angels.

"No, I've not had a mint julep. I have heard of it though. Supposed to be a very Southern drink." He made a stand to go get the drinks, "I'm guesing Hell makes a crappy julep as well?"

The band began to play "Blow, Gabriel, Blow". The song made him smile and think of his brother as he stood.

"You know, it's funny. Normally Gabe would've been your patron saint since you were a radio host." He told Alastor as he walked with him, "Did you like being on the radio?"

"The only thing Hell makes well are demons out of men." So yes, their juleps suck. Raphael would find his steps haunted, Alastor keen on not wandering far from him. Though the reason was unclear, perhaps it was for the best.

Considering the story the angel had just told him before, perhaps it was an effort to demonstrate that he had no intention of sneaking away and slaughtering innocents for giggles.

"Not a lot of Catholic churches, down in Louisiana. The Baptist minister I knew would be spitting tacks if he knew saints were real." But hey, he was asked a question about himself, and he was all too willing to answer it.

"Of course I did! One of the most popular shows on the air at the time, who wouldn't love all of that? Why, I remember interviewing musicians, artists, politicians, I attended football and baseball games free of charge, did the running commentary for the folks who couldn't see it in person! Even had a few good radio dramas I acted in!

I must admit though, friend, my favorite part of the night was the news." Which... sounded kind of dull, considering the personality of the jagged, nightmarish red specter. News?

Really, Alastor?

That was fine for the angel. It assured him that Alastor wasn't doing anything that he shouldn't be. Plus who else would the serial killer talk to without hiding what he truly was?

Raphael raised an eyebrow in amusement at the mention of the minister. Poor humans did tend to get bogged down in the details.

"Then you would like Gabriel. He can broadcast all over the different realms when he needs to or just wants to. He's quite chatty." He answered before getting the bartender's attention, "Uh, two mint juleps please."

As for his favorite part being the news that didn't surprise him. Some killers got their kicks sending letters to the newspapers. Others from offering to "help" the police investigation. The angel was pretty sure Alastor probably enjoyed reporting his latest spree killing under the guise of an innocent news reporter.

"Especially the news about the Southren Hunter?" He asked Alastor once the bartender had left them their drinks and moved on to other patrons.

An Alastor RP Catchall

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