If Angel said that he didn't feel a little bit bad about this situation, he would be lying. I mean, he was flirting with the feline close to a month and then ending up getting cold feet at the end. Damn, if this was for money, Angel would have jumped on it. But Husk wasn't just some rando. And for that, he couldn't help but not feeling a bit shitty. But he ended up trying to reassure the cat before retreating into the kitchen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The days inched by with little signs of the deer returning back to the Hotel. The first few days, the porn star was in his usual high spirits, causing mischief for its residence. He wasn't worried. Nope. It was totally fine. Not hiding behind his humor to mask his concerns. That didn't sound like him. But that façade started to crumple like a cheap two dollar suit as the eve of the Cleanse was upon them. Angel's emotions betrayed him as he appeared openly concerned about the missing deer's safety. Did he really intend to stay away for this long? Was it all really due to his punishment or was he really trying to run away from him? Either way, it did nothing to ease his mind.
The Cleanse came and the radio demon was still missing. If Charlie and the others didn't physically hold Angel back, he would have darted out into the fry. They all wanted to search for him but Charlie had an annoyingly frustrating fair point: They would be no use to Alastor if they were dead. So all he could do was wait. Fuck, he hated waiting. Looking out his window with Fat Nuggs in his lap, peering out at Pentagram City like some fucking Navy wife waiting for her husband to return from sea. In the ocean of chaos that laid waste beyond the thin sheet of glass, Angel silently hoped that where ever Alastor was that he was safe.
On the dawn of the seventh day, after one hell of a sleepless night, Angel's nerves were frayed to hell. Not even his fur could hide the bags under his eyes from staying up until morning. Hanging on the hope that someone would walk through those doors. But no one ever did. So now, the spider was tired and grumpy and really needed some coffee... or alcohol. Fuck it, both.
Marching back down to the foyer, he unceremoniously plopped himself down at the bar. "Can I get an irish coffee?"
no subject
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The days inched by with little signs of the deer returning back to the Hotel. The first few days, the porn star was in his usual high spirits, causing mischief for its residence. He wasn't worried. Nope. It was totally fine. Not hiding behind his humor to mask his concerns. That didn't sound like him. But that façade started to crumple like a cheap two dollar suit as the eve of the Cleanse was upon them. Angel's emotions betrayed him as he appeared openly concerned about the missing deer's safety. Did he really intend to stay away for this long? Was it all really due to his punishment or was he really trying to run away from him? Either way, it did nothing to ease his mind.
The Cleanse came and the radio demon was still missing. If Charlie and the others didn't physically hold Angel back, he would have darted out into the fry. They all wanted to search for him but Charlie had an annoyingly frustrating fair point: They would be no use to Alastor if they were dead. So all he could do was wait. Fuck, he hated waiting. Looking out his window with Fat Nuggs in his lap, peering out at Pentagram City like some fucking Navy wife waiting for her husband to return from sea. In the ocean of chaos that laid waste beyond the thin sheet of glass, Angel silently hoped that where ever Alastor was that he was safe.
On the dawn of the seventh day, after one hell of a sleepless night, Angel's nerves were frayed to hell. Not even his fur could hide the bags under his eyes from staying up until morning. Hanging on the hope that someone would walk through those doors. But no one ever did. So now, the spider was tired and grumpy and really needed some coffee... or alcohol. Fuck it, both.
Marching back down to the foyer, he unceremoniously plopped himself down at the bar. "Can I get an irish coffee?"