"I mean it," Alastor slurred. He took a stumbling step towards the two Angels in front of him, the shadows tugging insistently at him but not enough to get him to stop. He started poking the chest fluff of the one slightly to the right. "I don't like your propositions. You're vulgar and irritating. And you seem to think it's funny to wind me up to the point where homicide crosses my mind."

Alastor's drooping ears twitched as he lowered his hand. He lowered his eyes, giving a wry chuckle interrupted by hiccups.

"But ironically that's...that's why I don't hate you. You didn't run away or slam the door in my face or attempt to threaten me when we first met. You...you actively seek me out to annoy me. It's not just me, the quiet in my ears, and the radio in my head."