Alastor was struck completely silent as he stared at the image. It was all of them at the bar in a relaxed moment. It must've been taken with a film camera because even Alastor could be seen clearly. (Anything digital attempting to take his photograph never worked properly, his own image coming out glitchy at best.) Even Vaggie seemed calm and less on-guard than usual. Even more unusual: Husk had a content smile on his face.
How had Angel gotten such a picture? When?
The Radio Demon had no heart. Everyone knew that. Yet something deep inside his chest keened with longing as he looked at the happy photograph. From the outside, they almost looked like the family Charlie claimed they were.
Charlie leaned over his shoulder to see what had struck the radio host mute. She beamed at Angel. "Oh, wow! Angel, this is incredible! When did you get the picture?!"
The rest of the hazbins of the hotel swarmed around to take a look, praising Angel's stealthy photography skills and teasing one another as was their want.
Alastor's throat constricted with the close proximity and the sudden surge of emotion. When was the last time he'd taken a photograph with anyone like this? When had people at least looked happy in his presence? Did Angel even realize what a treasure he'd given Alastor?
He swallowed, attempting to clear the obstruction and failing. His voice came out somewhat strangled as he said, "Thank you, Angel." He cleared his throat. "Excuse me a moment."
He teleported into the kitchen: close enough to hear what was going on but far enough to reset himself. He grimaced as he heard the radio on the shelf behind the bar suddenly starting to croon with one of the more modern jazz performers' voice:
♪♫ I'm dreaming tonight of a place I love Even more than I usually do And although I know it's a long road back I promise you
I'll be home for Christmas You can count on me Please have snow and mistletoe And presents by the tree
Christmas eve will find me Where the love light gleams I'll be home for Christmas If only in my dreams ♪♫
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How had Angel gotten such a picture? When?
The Radio Demon had no heart. Everyone knew that. Yet something deep inside his chest keened with longing as he looked at the happy photograph. From the outside, they almost looked like the family Charlie claimed they were.
Charlie leaned over his shoulder to see what had struck the radio host mute. She beamed at Angel. "Oh, wow! Angel, this is incredible! When did you get the picture?!"
The rest of the hazbins of the hotel swarmed around to take a look, praising Angel's stealthy photography skills and teasing one another as was their want.
Alastor's throat constricted with the close proximity and the sudden surge of emotion. When was the last time he'd taken a photograph with anyone like this? When had people at least looked happy in his presence? Did Angel even realize what a treasure he'd given Alastor?
He swallowed, attempting to clear the obstruction and failing. His voice came out somewhat strangled as he said, "Thank you, Angel." He cleared his throat. "Excuse me a moment."
He teleported into the kitchen: close enough to hear what was going on but far enough to reset himself. He grimaced as he heard the radio on the shelf behind the bar suddenly starting to croon with one of the more modern jazz performers' voice:
♪♫ I'm dreaming tonight of a place I love
Even more than I usually do
And although I know it's a long road back
I promise you
I'll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have snow and mistletoe
And presents by the tree
Christmas eve will find me
Where the love light gleams
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams ♪♫