#((in a few hours Alastor wakes up with a hangover and a snake and goes 'if I don't move I can stay like this for a year right'))

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Habushu

Hey remember when @hiss-and-vinegar came over this weekend to hang out in a room and get drunk with Alastor? Yeah well things got unexpectedly fluffy. They really are doing an enemies-to-friends speedrun.

If the read more doesn't work then I'm sorry but it's not my fault because tumblr did it.

Sir Pentious

Pentious actually ISN'T drunk when he arrives, thank goodness. He slithers in like he owns the place, as one does. Tucked under an arm is an enormous picnic basket, and he's looking very proud of himself.

Alastor

"Right on time!" Alastor says that like they'd actually scheduled a time. He doesn't have an offering of food, but he does have a bottle of bourbon. He half offers it with an apologetic shrug and says, "If you'd warned me sooner that you were bringing food, I would have whipped something up too." Maybe next time.

He twirls a key ring with a single room key around a finger. "Shall we?"

Sir Pentious

Oh nooo dont' tell him that, Alastor. Now he's giving you the MOST smug face that he can muster.

"OH, DEAR, ALASTOR!!! WERE YOU CAUGHT OFF GUARD BY ME??? I SHALL CHERISH THIS VICTORY."

He is. Kidding? He slithers forward, and takes the bottle, before handing off the Very Heavy picnic basket to the stickbug Alastor.

"IF YOU ARE SSSSTILL HUNGRY AFTER THISSS, THEN WE COULD WHIP UP SSSOMETHING TOGETHER, BUT I DOUBT WE WILL HAVE TO."

Alastor

Joke's on Sir Pentious, maybe Alastor likes the smug face. Maybe he wanted Sir Pentious to be smug.

"Perhaps next time you'd cherish homemade snacks a little more?" The stickbug is stronger than his toothpick arms would suggest, but his eyebrows still shoot up a little at the weight of the basket. He supposes extra food WOULD be superfluous, wouldn't it? But he hefts it gamely and gestures toward the stairs. "Second floor, first door on the right."

His hopes soar at the thought of cooking with Sir Pentious. He can probably feign hunger. His stomach's nigh on bottomless.

Sir Pentious

Pentious' tongue flicks at the display of strength. Alastor didn't have the heft of a snake to rely on, so it was indeed impressive.

"I CHERISH THEM ALL THE SSSAME, AFTER ALL, I PREPARED ALMOST EVERYTHING WITHIN THAT PIC-A-NIC BASKET. YOU WILL SURELY BE DAZZLED BY MY TANTALIZING TREATSSS, MY FRIEND."

BOY this snake is in a REALLY GOOD MOOD!!! He begins the ascent up the stairs, zig zagging as snakes must. He knows Vaggie said she was avoiding the lobby, but he hoped to give a little frilly talon wave. Oh well. Door located!

Alastor

"Did you!" He tries to balance the basket on a hip so he can free a hand for opening it as he walks, finds it too heavy for that, and calls up a shadow to help support its weight instead. He's impatient and eager to find out what Sir Pentious's cooking is like.

He and the shadow trail slightly behind Sir Pentious as he tries to dig into the basket, humming distractedly along with his own background music as he does.

Sir Pentious

Inside the basket is...... OH IT'S LOCKED. IT'S ACTUALLY GOT A LOCKING MECHANISM.

Rest in peace, Alastor. No peeksies.

"YESS! APPARENTLY, EVERYONE ISSS ALWAYSSS SSURPRISED TO FIND OUT I CAN COOK. I LIVED BY MYSSSSELF FOR QUITE SSSOME TIME, YOU KNOW."

Alastor

Alastor has the sneaking suspicion that Sir Pentious knows him just a little too well. He tries to think of a way to open the basket, comes up with three, tries to think of a way that DOESN'T involve returning a broken basket to Sir Pentious, and by then they're in the room so it's a moot point.

"You have egg servants," he points out, dropping the basket on the coffee table. "But, point taken! Do I get to see the fruits of your labors now?" He taps a claw on the basket lid.

Sir Pentious

"I HAVE EGG SHAPED SERVANTSS, YESS."

He gives him a look, "BUT THEY ARE NOT VERY GOOD AT WHAT THEY SHOULD BE ABLE TO DO. WORKING WITHOUT SOULS DOESS THAT."

Pentious slithers over to a nearby seat, sitting down on it and coiling his tail up to be out of the way. He can see Alastor being all eager, so he decides to milk that.

"WHY??? ARE YOU GOING TO LOSE YOUR MIND WONDERING WHAT LIESSSS WITHIN, ALASSSSTOR?"

Alastor

"You know, I just might!" He knows full well that the more eagerness he expresses, the more likely Sir Pentious will be to drag out the big reveal for his own sadistic entertainment. But Alastor isn't exactly dying of starvation, and he'd like to see Sir Pentious enjoying himself—so sure, he'll play along a little bit. It isn't like Sir Pentious is going to leave without showing off his food.

The nearest seat to the coffee table is a couch—it's a sizeable hotel room suite, with not just bedroom furniture but also a desk, office chair, armchair in a corner, and then of course the couch and coffee table. Alastor momentarily wavers over whether he should pull over one of the other two chairs, then decides to let his id win this one and plops down on the couch next to Sir Pentious. "I've been wondering since I saw you were bringing something!" he said cheerily. "Why, wondering what you're bringing is half the reason I didn't bring anything myself! I was trying to guess what might compliment your offerings without knowing what they were going to be."

Sir Pentious

Pentious, an enormous King Cobra Demon decorated in eyes looks down at this stick bug, his tongue flicking as he listens to the eager chatter of that frequency mingled voice. Alastor seemed in high spirits, too.... And while Pentious was still upset over what the Radio Demon of his own HELL had done, he could relax here... To a degree.

It was nice, in its own way, to be able to exist next to him again.

"A WISE DECISION," Penny begins, clicking his talons together, "AFTER ALL, OUR ABILITIES ARE INCOMPARABLE! YOUR BOLOGNESE WOULD NOT PAIR WELL WITH MY MODE OF PREPARATION, BUT I DIGRESS."

He slips his sleeve up, revealing a gadget strapped to his wrist. Upon pressing it, the basket pops open. Voila!

Inside, a bottle of brandy mixed with lemonade ("HOT TODDIE" has been scribbled onto a label), a bottle of Japanese spirits with a dead viper inside, a tea kettle, and then also an assortment of sandwiches made with salted meat and fish. Crumpets, jam filled biscuits, and also a plate or two of thinly sliced meat. One does what one can in Hell, and he obtained his ingredients in the Hotel.

Alastor

Alastor immediately pulls the basket over, and is almost just as immediately disappointed. Oh, sandwiches. Sandwiches and charcuterie. Sure, it was food preparation, but it wasn't what Alastor would call cooking.

But it's certainly serviceable. Alastor has gotten his own hopes raised too high, expecting to be wowed—this was about the level of his own Sir Pentious's culinary talents, after all. And who is he to turn down the simple pleasures of unadorned meat? "You know my tastes," he says wryly, snagging a slice. He quickly devours it and then gets to work eagerly pulling goods out of the basket.

He pauses at the bottle of snake booze, his dead heart jolting in his chest. After a moment, he murmurs, "You really know my tastes," and sets it firmly on his side of the coffee table. "Quite a spread! If it wasn't for the booze, I'd think we're having a proper tea party, here." Maybe tea parties do have booze? Alastor doesn't know, he doesn't exactly attend many.

Sir Pentious

All the while that Alastor is looking the items over, Pentious is leaning over to watch, his talons fidgeting nervously. He very clearly cares about the other's opinion, evidently from the look on the snake's face. His brow creased, the corner of his lips pulled down into an inquisitive frown. He was a picky eater, and texture played such an enormous role in what he could and couldn't eat... This followed into the things he'd prepare for himself. It was no wonder he was so thin.

"I PREPARED SSSIMILAR FARE ON MY OUTING WITH VALERA ON THE FIN-DE-SEMAINE PRIOR." AND HE WILL NOT TALK ANYMORE ABOUT WHAT WENT DOWN DURING THAT PICNIC. RIGHT IN FRONT OF THOSE INNOCENT SANDWICHES.

"THE HOT TODDIE WAS WELL RECEIVED! BUT THE HABUSHU ISS NEW. I AM EAGER TO TRY IT! I WONDER IF YOU'LL BE BITTEN BY THE SSSNAKE? HAHA!"

Alastor

"And she has exquisite taste," Alastor says, resisting the urge to cast a pointed glance at Sir Pentious himself. Oh, he knows how sensitive Sir Pentious is to the approval or disapproval of the people he's trying to impress—that's consistent across universes, too. Sir Pentious is not going to hear a word of disappointment and is not going to see anything but a smile.

"Ha—ha-boo-shoe?" That's a new one. "I'm already more than familiar with snake bites," he says, tilting his head to pointedly stretch his neck. He grabs up one of the fish sandwiches and asks, "Have you never gotten any snake alcohol before, then?"

Sir Pentious

Pentious grins devilishly at the reminder of their previous visitation, his fangs in full view. If you want an encore, just ask, Alastor ~

But he leans back on the sofa, waving a hand, "NO, NEVER. PEOPLE DO NOT SSSSEND ME GIFTSSSS. I NEVER HAD A CHANCE TO TAKE A BOAT TO JAPAN, ALTHOUGH I REALLY WANTED TO. THINGS OF JAPONAISE ORIGIN WERE COVETED DURING MY TIME!"

He gestures to the Habushu. "ALTHOUGH IF THERE WERE SSSNAKE ALCOHOL IN LONDON TOWN, NO, I NEVER RECEIVED ANY."

Alastor

Sir Pentious is going to have to tell him he can ask or else he's going to think it's kinda weird. Because he does want an encore.

He makes a mental note about the gift issue. "Oh, is it from Japan?" Alastor gives it another look. Huh. Well, what does he know about Japanese snakes from any other? "I think the kind I came across was Thai. Well—technically it was Hellish, but based on a Thai recipe, I mean."

Sir Pentious

His shoulders bounce as he laughs, snickering behind a hand.

"A HELLISH SERPENT SSSTUFFED INTO A BOTTLE?"

He looks delighted, "WHY, I WASS AN ALCOHOLIC! THAT'SS CLOSE ENOUGH! HHHAAAAA HA HAAAAA!"

DARK HUMOR!

Alastor

Alastor blinks in surprise. "Were you." He gives the bottle an uncomfortable glance, then forces his gaze away. "Ha! I had a decade like that! I've never seen a radio in a bottle, though."

SYMPATHIZING THROUGH DARK HUMOR!

"I suppose in place of a radio you could squeeze in one of those little wireless headphones that are supposed to go up your ear canal," Alastor says, with a slight sneer of distaste. "But I doubt it would do much for the flavor."

Sir Pentious

He grins wide at the shared understanding. WOW THESE OLD MEN. Pentious drags the tips of his claws across his lips, carefully.

"OH, I DON'T KNOW! IF YOU BROKE THEM JUSST RIGHT, MAYBE YOU'D FIND THE TASTE SHOCKING! IT WOULD SSSSPARK A NEW FLAVOR!"

Booooo.

"I HAVE NEVER WORN EAR PIECESSSSS, I DO NOT HAVE EARSSSS LIKE A HUMAN ANYMORE. AND BESIDESSS, I MUCH PREFER THE SSSSOUND THROUGH A GRAMOPHONE. I HAD ACCESS TO ONE OF THE VERY FIRSSST MODELSSS, YOU KNOW! "

Alastor

He's relieved when the conversation moves on without further questions. "Ha! A real jolt to the senses! If nothing else, it would probably improve the ear pieces."

Alastor's eyes light up. (More, anyway.) "Did you?" he asks with relish. "I shouldn't be surprised, early adopter that you are! I just didn't realize they were around in the 1880s. I heard my first in the aughts. I still prefer records myself! Not that I mind headphones, but..." He flicks an ear. "They don't make many models for me, either." A wan smile. "But then it's not a terribly high priority when you can do this." He briefly cranks the volume up on his disembodied background music before letting it settle down to a murmur again.

Sir Pentious

He leans on his hands, upon his coil and. EXCEPTIONALLY close to that grinning radio man. Tongue flick.

"YOU ARE GOING TO BE SSSO VERY ENVIOUSSS. IN 1887, EMILE BERLINER CREATED A PROTOTYPE OF WHAT YOU KNOW AS THE GRAMOPHONE!! AND...."

Demonic hungry beast-like grin.

"I THREATENED HIM FOR IT. HE GAVE IT TO ME. I HAD THE ORIGINAL, CRANK OPERATED MODEL!! SSSSUCH INGENUITY. SSSSUCH SSSTYLE."

A frown, "IT'SSSS TOO BAD I DIED THE NEXT YEAR, BUT THESE THINGSSSS HAPPEN."

Alastor

Alastor doesn't budge an inch back as Sir Pentious closes in, focusing the entirety of his attention on that wonderfully wicked grin. His eyes open more and grin stretches wide enough that it threatens to rip his face in two; his studio audience applauds at the conclusion of the story, all parties thoroughly amused. "You—are—RIGHT!" Alastor prods Sir Pentious's chest underneath his eye. "I am envious of you! The prototype, no less! There's being ON the cutting edge, and then there's being the one to sharpen the knife."

Alastor flashes back to where he'd been a year before he died—too bad, indeed—and shrugs. "There's something to be said for dying while king of the hill. No slow descent from the peak into the valley of the shadow of death." The words are still as chipper as he can make them but even to himself his tone rings somewhat hollow. He still misses those years he lost. Half his life unlived.

Sir Pentious

Oh, yes! Listen to that applause. Pentious leans back, placing his claws under his chin as he basks in the praise given to him. What a wonderful feeling, being adored! He purrrrrs, in that Cobra-Snarling Kind of Way. "YESS, NO SSLOW DESCENT AT ALL. I DIED IN AN AIRSHIP EXPLOSION!"

Alastor

"A—an airship explosion!" Alastor played back a couple of soundbites from the Hindenburg disaster broadcast—"it's a terrific crash, ladies and gentlemen"—"oh, the humanity!"—he couldn't help himself. "Well, talk about going out with a bang! Ha! What in the world managed to bring down an airship in 1888?"

Sir Pentious

Oh man, he has no idea what the hell Alastor just played, but it gets an inquisitive look out of the snake anyway. Pentious waves a hand dismissively, and leans over to pick up the bottle of Brandy+Lemonade.

"ENGINE CAUGHT. I WAS TOO HASTY WITH MY PREPARATIONSSS THAT DAY, OR ONE OF MY LABORERS HAD A MISHAP. REGARDLESS, HERE I AM! ALTHOUGH, IT'SSSS RATHER FUNNY... IT DID NOT FEEL LIKE MUCH OF ANYTHING. I RECALL THE HEAT, THE WAY MY SSSKIN WAS TEARING FROM MY LIMBSSSS, BUT THEN BEFORE I COULD THINK TO SSSCREAM, I WAS FLYING MY SHIP THROUGH THE BLOODIED SSSSKIES OF HELL. IT'SSS THE SAME ONE, YOU KNOW. MY AIRSHIP."

Even if he's had to rebuild it.

Alastor

Just a clip of one of the best tragedies Alastor died too soon to enjoy. He lives (so to speak) for opportunities to buy black market broadcast recordings of devastating news in the living world.

So he'd brought HIMSELF down—isn't that typical of most of Sir Pentious's losses? Alastor has to fight the urge to laugh; Sir Pentious wouldn't appreciate the humor.

But this is fast to be hearing about Sir Pentious's death. Especially in such depth. Alastor wonders if he's always this free with the details of his demise, or if Alastor is riding on the legacy of whatever intimacy his alternate had enjoyed with Sir Pentious. Or if Sir Pentious is trying to push through to intimacy as fast as possible before THIS alliance falls through, too.

Because that, Alastor is aware, is certainly what he himself is about to do. "Mine didn't feel like much either. The injuries before the killing blow, sure—but the last one? Just a quick pop on my forehead, and suddenly I'm backstage at a circus with an imp telling me to get out!" He huffs. This is the second time he's told a Sir Pentious about his death. The last time, it took fifteen years—and came less than a day before Alastor permanently broke off their alliance. "But—you brought your entire airship to Hell with you? That's rare! Very rare." And, if Sir Pentious's version of Hell operates on the same principles as Alastor's, means the airship is an extension of his soul. Alastor wonders if Sir Pentious himself knows that—he's run into far too many sinners who don't.

Sir Pentious

It was a toss up of reasons. Pentious found it easier to joke about his own demise, as long as it was him telling the story. It gave him a bit more control over the outcome, and even if he were to end up laughed at, he still chose to tell the tale. But why share it with Alastor? Well... He felt good, lately. It was a peculiar feeling--the snake had a habit of oversharing anyway, and sometimes he didn't catch himself quickly enough. But Alastor wanted to be friends, and, friends are the sort of people who overshare information, right?

At least, that was the impression the Inventor got from online interaction. You couldn't call yourself a friend without having shared strangely private matters of your own life. It was kind of a comfort slip... but as long as attention wasn't brought to the fact he was so open about it, Pentious wouldn't become defensive. He didn't know the ins and outs of friendship, didn't know what this kind of contract allowed or forbid. Maybe he had made an enormous mistake, sharing that much information... but now Alastor was telling him about his own death.

Pentious smirked, that greyish, reddish tongue slipping out between his lips as he listened in variable silence--he made a lot of noise just existing, but as Valera had described, he was like a white noise machine. Once the topic returned to him, Pentious looked a lot more comfortable, "YESSS, I DID! I'VE REBUILT HER UP TWICE NOW... THREE TIMESSS, SSOON TO BE. IT TAKESSS TIME. I HAVE TO BE IN THE RIGHT..." His eyes glance about, and his hood raises, "NEVER MIND ABOUT THAT. LET USSS HAVE A DRINK, SHALL WE, ALASSSTOR?"

Alastor

Alastor ponders over the missing end of that sentence. Right state of mind? Right mood? He feels like it has to be something like that—and if so, that suggests the ship IS a part of him, if its physical condition is dependent on Sir Pentious's inner condition.

But for now, he'll never mind about that. "Of course! That's what we came for!" He locates a glass and holds it out to be filled from Sir Pentious's bottle.

Sir Pentious

Pentious pours him a glass, careful to not spill it as he does... and then, he pours a glass for himself. The liquid is warm, which was the best way to enjoy this kind of beverage. He lifts his glass to Alastor's, "TO WHAT DO WE CHEERS TO, CHUM?"

Alastor

Chum, what a word. It sounds so... chummy. He considers the question, tossing out several options that are either too sentimental or too impersonal, and taps his glass to Sir Pentious's with, "To your not having to rebuild that blimp a fourth time for a good long while, how about that?" To Sir Pentious's health, both internal and external.

Sir Pentious

Oh ho! Now that's a good toast!

He clinks his glass elegantly against the others.

"YES, RATHER SO! HERE ISS TO THAT ENDEAVOR, HAHAAA!" Aaand he takes a big gulp. Burns all the way down, with a dance of sweet and sour on the tongue.

Alastor

Alastor also takes a deep swig—chokes, swallows hard, and coughs static. "S—sorry." Cough. He wrinkles his nose as he tries not to let the rest of his face twist. "Sweeter than I was expecting." He'd heard "hot toddy" and unthinkingly assumed it was made the same way he'd make one for a sore throat—with whiskey and the absolute minimum amount of honey he could get away with.

Sir Pentious

OH!! WHAT A REACTION! Pentious LAUGHS openly, his hood lifting up!!!

"NYA HA HAAA! LOOK AT YOU-- I FORGOT, YOU DO NOT LIKE THIS KIND OF THING!! NYA HA HAAA!"

Alastor

Alastor sticks out the tip of his tongue—ick—then grabs another sandwich to cover up the taste. (He has to grope a couple of times before his hand lands on one—his eyes are on Sir Pentious as he laughs, not on the coffee table.) He devours a couple of bites before he says, "If you 'forget' again, I'm going to start assuming you're doing it on purpose."

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious couldn't look ANY more smug than he already does, and he leans closer to that Sour Faced Deer--even if he was still smiling, Pentious knew he definitely was caught off guard. Small victories. "OH, THAT ISSSS A DISSSSTINCT POSSSSSIBILITY."

Alastor

"I'm going to have my guard up next time," Alastor warns. He takes another small sip from the glass to see whether the sweetness is less shocking when he knows it's coming.

It is—but he's still not going to call it enjoyable.

Sir Pentious

You drink for enjoyment? Pentious prefers to drink to eradicate sensation. He takes a sandwich for himself, as well as a napkin, and leans back to start eating it. Yum yum. The sandwiches are missing their crusts, and the bread is very soft.

Alastor

He's tried to break that habit.

Alastor's not complaining; the less bread, the easier to enjoy the meat by itself. Alastor leans over to try to peer at the sandwich fillings and see if there are any flavors he hasn't tried yet, and grabs another. "So, hot toddy aside—were THESE chosen with my tastes in mind?" He takes a bite and, experimentally, grabs up one of the meat cuts to add on. "Because if they were, I'm flattered."

Sir Pentious

Pentious thinks, a moment, and he shakes his head.

"NO, I DIDN'T REALLY MAKE ANY OF THISSS WITH YOU IN MIND. I JUST WANTED TO BRING SNACKSSS AND BOOZE, SO WE COULD GET "HAMMERED". HAAAHAA!! THISSS ISSS SSTANDARD PICNIC FARE OF MY TIME, ALASSSTOR. YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN MISERABLE. NOT A RADIO IN SSSSIGHT. I WONDER IF YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN THE OPERA DEMON."

Alastor

"Well, lucky our tastes line up!" He lifts his glass again—cheers to that—and takes another sip. "... Mostly."

He doesn't have to contemplate the question long. "Probably!" It's something he's actually thought about—in death, being the Radio Demon has felt so correct that he has to wonder if he still would have been the Radio Demon had he died a century earlier, his powers lying latent until the radio receivers to react to them had been invented. Or maybe it was impossible for his soul to have been created until the technology he needed was ready. "I was trying to make it on Broadway before the radio came around. A generation before that, it probably WOULD have been opera. What about you, if you'd been born too early? I expect you would have had to start the Industrial Revolution all by yourself."

Sir Pentious

He snickers, grinning REALLY close to Alastor's head.

"AND YOU KNOW, I WOULD HAVE DONE SO!" He takes another gulp. There's no gentle sips here, "I HAVE AN EYE FOR INVENTION! I COULD NEVER SSSSIT BY AND LET OTHERSSS GET THINGSSSS SSTARTED WITHOUT ME. NO MATTER THE ERA, SHOULD I HAVE BEEN BORN INTO IT, I WOULD HAVE REVOLUTIONIZED IT!!!"

Alastor

Well, don't be shy, Sir Pentious, there's still a couple inches of empty air there.

He's getting tired of gentle sips himself. He opens his bottle of bourbon, drowns what's left of his hot toddy, and takes a deep gulp of the new concoction. Much better. "Oh, I have no doubt! That's what you're made for! You're still doing it now, even!" Alastor sure didn't see anyone else running around with rail guns like the one Sir Pentious has just cooked up.

Sir Pentious

Oooh, a straight swig from the bottle, eh? Pentious flicks his tongue, looking it over, before he puts his glass down and reaches for Alastor's bourbon, "COME NOW, DON'T BE sssSTINGY."

Alastor

"What, do you need to burn out the taste of honey, too?" He passes over the bottle then flops back against the couch cushion, enjoying the familiar burn down his throat.

Sir Pentious

"HARDER TO GET DRUNK OFF OF SOMETHING SSSSO SSWEET." ACtually, it's easier, but he doesn't like the sticky taste of honey so much.

Pentious fills up his glass near to the brim, which means there'd still be a hint of lemon and honey, but not quite as bad. He then takes a direct swig from the bottle and passes it back with a cackle.

Alastor

"Definitely not as enjoyable! I prefer to taste exactly how drunk I'm going to get off my drink." And if that means occasionally feeling like he's drinking paint thinner, so be it.

He takes the bottle back, almost takes a swig, stops, stares at the lip of the bottle as he thinks extremely hard about the implications, and then swigs with even more gusto.

Sir Pentious

Pentious leans over to grab his glass, and sits back slowly, as to not jostle the thing. Several big gulps, you can hear it noisily! OHH that burns. He purrrrrsss, and brings the glass down on the coffee table. Looking even more giddy by the moment.

"YOU KNOW, WE SHOULDN'T GET OURSELVESSSSS TOO DONE IN BY THE BRANDY... THERE ISSS SSSTILL THE SSNAKE BITE THERE."

He gestures to the Habushu, "UNLESSsss YOU HAVE ANOTHER BITE IN MIND!" Pentious, you already made this joke.

Alastor

There's a crackle like two stations trying to interfere with each other and brief garbled voices over Alastor's background music. Okay, all right, Alastor's got just enough booze in him to take the edge off his common sense. And Sir Pentious wouldn't have brought it up twice if he wasn't serious, right? "Are you offering?"

Sir Pentious

Hhhmmmm. He looks over at Alastor, wincing at the sound of crackling radio stations... He taps his grit teeth with a talon, thinking it over, "LET ME HAVE ANOTHER DRINK BEFORE I DECIDE!" Because that's always smart. He takes the bottle back so he can pour himself another glass-- but whatever. He'll just take a gulp or two from the bottle. He sucks in air! Feels great, and also horrible at the same time.

Alastor

Is that a drink to work up his nerve, or a drink to put off a distasteful task? "Up to you," Alastor says, as if it doesn't make the slightest difference to him. He takes up the bottle of habushu—HIS next drink is certainly going to be of the "liquid courage" variety—opens it up, and tastes it a little more cautiously than he did the hot toddy.

Sir Pentious

Unfortunately, Pentious had neither decision on his mind. He was just wanting to drink more--he watched Alastor taste the Habushu... He'd be greeted with a spicy, though definitely Strong taste. The smell was as if cinnamon were dipped into paint thinner. Excellent? The Snake outside of the bottle, wearing a blinking top hat, leans closer to Alastor, somewhat towering over him menacingly, his hood out.

"OR SHOULD WE SAVE THE BITE FOR LASsssT??? I DO NOT WANT TO CUT OUR MEETING SHORT."

Alastor

Tastes good to Alastor. Weird, but good. He drinks a little more.

And suddenly he's being loomed over.

He thinks he's starting to develop a little bit of a taste for being loomed over. Not many people have the courage to attempt a loom on the Radio Demon—and most of those people are boring as hell. A looming Sir Pentious, however, is a promise of an exquisitely interesting afternoon, often in the form of mass carnage and flattened city blocks. (And he looks handsome from this angle, to boot. Very imperious. Very sure of himself.)

"Oh! I can handle a little blood loss and keep going, don't you worry!" He pats Sir Pentious's shoulder reassuringly. "But you're right! Dessert comes after the meal."

Sir Pentious

Pentious only feels comfortable when he can loom over his enemies! Perks of being so long. And he may not have his airship, he's still very big in general. His eyes squint at the shoulder pat, but he sits back, pulling more of his tail up onto the couch. Pleasant rattling sound. While Alastor caresses that bottle, Pentious is going to fetch a few jam filled biscuits out of the basket and munch on them.

He really does look happier, these days. Like his color is more saturated.

Alastor

If Sir Pentious is leaning away, then Alastor is going to... maybe... lean toward. Keep that distance consistent and all. That's a good idea. (The alcohol is definitely kicking in.)

He elbows Sir Pentious and offers the bottle. "The snake booze is pretty good! Makes me regret not trying the other bottle I got. We oughta try the Thai variety some time, you know, for comparison purposes."

Sir Pentious

His neck does a weird accordion thing, but only briefly. Exaggerated movements, though not intentionally, his head swivels a little as he looks Alastor over. Taking the bottle now, and peeking at the viper inside. His tongue flicks and he grins.

"WANTING TO DRINK WITH ME AGAIN IN THE FUTURE, ALASSSTOR? YOUR LADY FRIEND WILL BECOME QUITE ANNOYED WITH OUR VISITSSSS."

Alastor

"Well, sure, the first couple times have gone well enough." There are a confused few seconds during which Alastor tries to figure out which of his lady friends Sir Pentious thinks would be jealous of these meetings; he can't think of anything to say in response except, "You're not worried yours will get annoyed?" And then he figures it out. "Oh—I wouldn't call Vaggie a FRIEND. Coworker at best. Anyway, we could go over to your side of things."

Sir Pentious

Valera always encourages these sorts of meetings, so he's not worried in the least in this case.

The mention of having their visits over on his side makes him think about his own Alastor, and the conversation he had with Valera... Pentious' expression grows a little dark, a red glow seeping into his eyes as he thinks on it.

Alastor

Alastor's watching Sir Pentious closely enough to notice that. He weighs his curiosity against his desire to see Sir Pentious in a good mood, decides that this friendship has been short-lived enough that not maintaining a good mood could ruin his chances completely, and he says, "Vaggie will get used to our spending time over here. Anyway, I don't know what she could do about it!"

Sir Pentious

He's startled out of his own brief intensity, and he leans back on the sofa, resting his head more on Alastor's side.

"MY PLACE COULD WORK, HOWEVER, THERE WOULD BE ANOTHER ONE OF YOU WATCHING USSS, AND CURRENTLY, I AM NOT LOOKING TO SSSSPEND ANY SSSSUCH TIME WHERE HE COULD BE WATCHING ME IN A JOVIAL SSSSTATE."

Alastor

Ah. "Think he'll try to ruin the mood? Maybe kidnap me in the middle and switch us out?" He laughs at the thought, then leans forward to grab—what's left?—another few pieces of meat.

Sir Pentious

That gets a LAUGH out of the old serpent, and he rests his head on his palm, grinning down at Alastor.

"I DOUBT HE'D WANT TO SSSPEND ANY LENGTH OF TIME WITH ME! BESIDESSS, HE WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO RESSSIST CALLING ME SIR HAROLD. I WOULD KNOW THE DIFFERENCE IN AN INSSSTANT."

Alastor

"Harold." One corner of his mouth twists. Of all the names to settle on. "You know, I don't get why he wouldn't want to! I don't know why he—well—" He stopped, stumbling over his words as he realized he wasn't exactly heading toward neutral territory. "What it is he... doesn't see in you...r company." Smooth work, Mr. Professional Radio Host. Incredibly subtle.

Sir Pentious

The repeating of the name CLEARLY irritates Pentious, his glare fixating on the other with a snappy hiss sfx. But then he watches Alastor, of all Demons, stumble awkwardly through that mess of a sentence, and he raises a broooow. Huhwha.

Sir Pentious straightens up, polishing his claws on his suit, "YESSS, WELL, CLEARLY, HE IS AFRAID OF BEING SHOWN UP! ONE CANNOT SSSIMPLY BE IN MY PRESENCE WITHOUT THAT HAPPENING! I KNOW HE FEARS SSSSOME ASPECT OF ME, OTHERWISE, WHY WOULD HE BE SSSTAYING AWAY?"

Easier to tell himself that-- it was definitely more likely that Alastor just didn't give two shits about Pentious, and he knew that to be true, too.

His focus is back on the Stickbug.

"BUT YOU KNOW, YOU CLEARLY HAVE A FEW POINTSSSSsss ON HIM! AFTER ALL, YOU CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF ME!"

Alastor

Can't get enough of me. He is going to sit forward and he is going to pick up a sandwich and he is going to chew on it a bit and he is definitely not buying time while he screams in his head, and there are certainly not very very quiet terrified howls buried beneath the background music.

Finally, he says, as though he never paused, "Well, OF COURSE! What more interesting company could one keep than a man determined to conquer Hell and capable of independently producing the all the firepower he needs to accomplish that task?! If my duplicate is AFRAID of you, then he must have ambitions I don't! And if he ISN'T afraid, then..." He gropes around for an explanation, then lamely concludes, "then... I guess he's just stupid."

Because he genuinely, genuinely doesn't know what it is that his alternate isn't seeing. He's sifted through enough parallel dimensions and met enough versions of himself to conclude that his sentiments are quite probably unique, and he doesn't know why. He isn't so different from his mirror selves; nor are most of the duplicate serpents he's seen so different from his own. And yet he's the only Radio Demon who's got thorns wrapped between his ribs like this. Why him? What are the other lucky Alastors missing?

Sir Pentious

Pentious is too tipsy to consider the sounds he's hearing in the background music, just watching Alastor idly.

What a way to end that thought! The Cobra laughs, and he holds the bottle of habushu up, beaming with enjoyment. Thoroughly, THOROUGHLY entertained. "I WILL DRINK TO THAT, ALASTOR. HE IS JUST STUPID, INDEED!" And he takes a swig, clearly not bothered by the viper inside. Then again, Cobras do eat smaller snakes primarily. The taste has more kick to it, and he offers it to this rideerculous man.

Alastor

Oh! Success! What a relief. Alastor accepts the bottle—who needs glasses, next time they should start out by passing bottles back and forth, he's loving this—and drinks deeply from it.

Sir Pentious

Don't swallow the snake, Alastor.

Pentious was definitely getting pretty hammered at this rate, though. At least ten minutes later, he's kind of... on the floor, but his tail is up on the couch, as he streeetches and hums to himself. He just looks so relaxed.

Alastor

And as long as they're getting comfortable, Alastor's going to take the opportunity to flop across the couch—and across as much as Sir Pentious's tail as he can get away with. If he DOESN'T swallow the snake, it's not going to be for a lack of trying. He's got the bottle upside-down and his tongue in the bottle, trying to coax the coiled-up corpse toward the opening so he can bite down. It's probably not going to be nearly as delicious as he imagines, but right now he's primarily thinking of the satisfying crunch of the skull.

Sir Pentious

Apparently Pentious doesn't mind Alastor lying on him--either he's too drunk to properly feel it, or he is too drunk to care. Or, the forbidden third option... he doesn't actually mind all that much. It would be hard to tell in this state. He purrs.........

"YOU KNOW, ALASSTOR, I HAVE BEEN 'STRAIGHT UP' MISERABLE FOR THE PASSST ONE HUNDRED YEARSSS! GIVE OR TAKE A DECADE OR SO. WHEN I DIED, I WASS OPTIMISSSTIC IN SSSOME WAYSSS THAT I COULD, WELL, MAKE IT WORK. AND THEN I MET YOU IN THE FORTY YEARSS AFTER THAT, AND IT WASS--WELL IT WASN'T YOU, YOU. BUT WE ALL KNOW HOW THAT WENT!"

He imitates the sound of a blimp crashing and exploding.

"AND, AFTER THAT, I THINK A PART OF ME FINALLY DIED! I HATED EVERYONE, EVERYTHING. I DOUBLED DOWN MY EFFORTSSSsss, AND FIXATED ON MY DESIRESSSsss, BUT I WAS COMPLETELY ALONE! EVEN AFTER HAVING THE EGGSSSSssss CREATED, THEY WERE A POOR SSSUBSSTITUTE FOR CONTACT."

Alastor

There is an actual audible record scratch as the background music finally shuts up. "Oh."

His pleasant buzz has quite abruptly shifted into nausea. He reaches past Sir Pentious to unsteadily set the bottle of Habushu on the coffee table, snake uneaten.

Sir Pentious

"AND YET...!" He continues, "I HAVE BEEN HAPPY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN DECADES.... BECAUSE OF VALERA! SHE ENTERED MY LIFE AND NOW I HAVE DRIVE ONCE MORE... SSSHE EVEN MANAGED TO CONVINCE ME TO GIVE YOU A CHANCE, ALASSSTOR...!"

He's beaming, pressing his hands to his cheeks as he rubs them. Oh no, he's so in love.

"I WENT FROM A BITTER, LONELY, HATEFUL MAN TO HAVING A FRIEND, AND...! A WONDERFUL WOMAN IN MY UNLIFE...!"

Alastor

Alastor stares at the ceiling as his nausea finds a way to twist into horrible new shapes. It should have been him. It could have been—if not for his own goddamn, stupid...

He rubs his face (still smiling? good) and then sits up to try to move from the couch to the floor—wow that's a lot of snake down there. He turns and tries to lift his legs over Sir Pentious's body to swing off the couch, loses his coordination, and falls off the couch to land on his ass on the floor with his legs flung across Sir Pentious's tail. He flings an arm around Sir Pentious's shoulders and declares, "And it shouldn't have taken you HALF that long to get all that—and more! Why, you should never have lost it in the first place." He leans closer to Sir Pentious and says insistently, "But you have it now, and I am TRULY glad that you do." And he is. As much as he desperately, furiously wishes all that could have come from him—he's proven quite conclusively that he's not at all equipped to offer it, so better that Sir Pentious found someone who is. "And you don't know how honored I am to have been given a second chance to be a part of it. Goodness knows I don't deserve it, ha!"

Sir Pentious

The sudden THUD of Alastor falling on the floor definitely startles Pentious enough to open up his hood--but soon he's got the deer next to his head with that arm around his shoulders, and Sir Pentious can't help the little smile that accompanies that. Friend.

"WELL, ALASSSTOR, DO ANY OF US DESERVE SSSssECOND CHANCES?" He was PRETTY drunk, just listen to that slurred speech. "BECAUSE THISSSS IS HELL, I THINK NOT! BUT.... FRANKLY, MY FRIEND, I DON'T GIVE A DAMN! WE'VE BEEN DOWN HERE LONG ENOUGH, LET'Ssss GET sssssSOMETHING OUT OF IT!"

And he bumps his head affectionately against Alastor's. Bonk. Probably better not to mention this to him when he's sober.

Alastor

If head-bonking is on the table now, then so is sustained head contact. It's like a bonk that doesn't end. He tilts his head sideways against Sir Pentious's, they're making contact, no take-backs.

"No, no, of course we don't deserve second chances." He laughs ruefully. "But there's the thing: if you don't deserve a second chance, usually that means nobody's going to GIVE you any! Which makes it all the more—all the more... Well, YOU DID! You said just a bit ago that you WERE optimistic—if you ask me—not that you asked me, but I'm telling you anyway—you still are."

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious' tongue sticks out in the most ridiculous way as he practically beams. What a smile. It's like a large C trying to take over his entire face.

"OHH, DON'T INssssSULT ME~" he waves a hand.... "OPTIMISSSTIC.... SSUCH A FAR FETCHED IDEA! AND YET.... IT DOESN'T ALL FEEL SSSO POINTLESS, NOW."

He purrrrrrs. It's a cobra sound, deep and raspy, but the growling is curled enough to sound content. It's not a friendly sound if you're used to cats, but at least he wasn't about to bite.

"ARE YOU OPTIMISSSTIC, ALASSSTOR?"

Alastor

Pressed as close to Sir Pentious as he is, Alastor can practically feel him smiling without having to turn and look at it. He can DEFINITELY feel that raspy purr—even as calm as Sir Pentious is, there's an edge of something dangerous to the sound. (It reminds him of fangs sinking into his throat.) Alastor is sure the reason he feels a little light-headed is because of the alcohol.

"It's not an insult!" Alastor lays his free hand dramatically on his chest as if he's offended at the mere suggestion; then pauses and amends himself: "It would be an insult toward anyone else. But YOU wear it well!" He pauses again and amends himself again: "Wore it well. Anyway—no. I'm not. Not sure if I ever was one, but I'm even less of one now."

Sir Pentious

Alastor often talked so much, most of his commentary or idle prattle was just background noise.

Sir Pentious looks to the other--but since their heads are together, it's more like a nuzzle. Nuzzle nuzzle........

"AND WHAT WOULD HELP YOU BECOME MORE OPTIMISSSTIC? YOU'VE ALWAYSSSS BEEN A MYSSSTERY TO ME, ALASTOR."

Alastor

Ah, every radio host's greatest fear: to be switched on and left ignored in the corner, nothing but idle noise for a busy listener to hear but tune out.

Alastor 100% mistakes the gesture for a nuzzle and returns it eagerly. How did he get this lucky this fast?

"I—huh." He doesn't think "you" would make a very good answer. "Optimism is hard to come by in Hell."

Sir Pentious

Luckily, Sir Pentious is too hammered to question it, although he does make a face.

"DID.... YOU CHANGE YOUR HAIR?"

Yep. He's only just noticed now.

Alastor

He's too hammered to realize Sir Pentious really should have noticed sooner. "Oh! Yes!" He leans away slightly so he can turn toward Sir Pentious and point at his hair. (He's not letting go of Sir Pentious's shoulders, though.) "This is how I usually—well, I guess I can't say 'usually' anymore—how I used to wear it! How I prefer it. Do you like it?"

Sir Pentious

He has to focus his eyes a little, giving him a once over..... Hmmmmm.

"I'M NOT USED TO IT, THE RED SUITS YOU MUCH BETTER!" Or rather, Sir Pentious prefers it, "THIS STYLE DOES MAKE YOU LOOK YOUNGER...."

Alastor

His ears droop slightly, but it doesn't touch his tone as he says, "Well—don't you worry, I'm sure the red will be back soon enough! I never can manage to maintain this look." He wonders if "younger" is good or bad.

Sir Pentious

"WELL IT ISN'T BAD, I JUST DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE WITH IT. WE ONLY MET IN DEATH." Sir Pentious attempts to clarify, his tail slithering off the couch and.... FLOPPING on top of Alastor's body. Trapped.

Alastor

Trapped... or embraced??

"Fair enough. I'm not going to pretend I didn't act differently back when I looked like this than I do now!" He leans a little more heavily on Sir Pentious for a moment, "And I suppose I'd have to adjust if you showed up one day with a curtain of black hair instead of a hood."

He drops his free hand on top of Sir Pentious's tail. NOW who's trapped? "... Do you miss your body?"

Sir Pentious

Oh yes, definitely, it is Sir Pentious who is trapped. A prisoner of the deer.

The question gives him pause, and he thinks... Does he remember it well? Does he miss it?

"NO. NOT PARTICULARLY. I WAS A THIN, FRAIL SORT OF MAN. UNREMARKABLE. AT LEAST UNTIL I FINALLY BEGAN MY TERRORIZING OF LONDON, THAT IS."

He grins, "DANDY SUITSSS AND WHAT NOT. BUT, I SAY, I'M MUCH MORE RECOGNIZABLE LIKE THIS. I HAVE MORE PRESENCE THAN EVER BEFORE. LEGS ARE A HASSLE."

Maybe he can't waltz anymore, but it's not like he ever enjoyed those fancy parties.

Alastor

"Isn't everyone unremarkable until they find something to start terrorizing?" Alastor doesn't find many people remarkable, anyway. "Snakeskin suits you. I've SEEN pictures of you—other you—but I'm sure if I was asked to try to describe what you'd looked like, I'd describe you as a cobra first and then try to explain what's different."

Sir Pentious

"OH, HAVE YOU SEEN PICTURES OF ME?" Big. Big pupils. They're huge like kitten eyes as he looks at Alastor.

"RIGHT, BECAUSE OF YOUR HISTORY WITH THE SERPENT OF YOUR HELL..."

He flops his head back down, "FOR A MOMENT, I THOUGHT YOU'D HEARD OF ME FROM THE LIVING WORLD, BUT, AMERICANS LIKELY DON'T CONCERN THEMSELVES MUCH WITH THE ENGLISH ANYMORE."

Alastor

Oh, hold on, give Alastor a moment to stare into those eyes. Okay. He's good.

"Sure, I'd heard of you in the living world! Why, we covered you in history class! Early films showed who the top bad guy was by giving him long black hair."

Sir Pentious

what. WHAT

In a FLASH, Sir Pentious pinned Alastor to the floor, face mere inches from his.

"YOU'VE HEARD OF ME?? YOU WERE TAUGHT OF ME?? I MADE SSSSSOME KIND OF AN IMPACT???!!! DETAILSSSSS, MAN!"

Alastor

"I—sure, of course you made an impact! You invented air combat a generation before anyone else figured out how to get off the ground, how could you NOT make an impact?" How could HE think he hadn't made an impact?

Sir Pentious

He's. Staring.

Alastor

Alastor's staring back. He's really digging all this soulful eye contact.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious had just found out, after decades, that he'd ACTUALLY made an impact--nobody had ever known who he was, even soon after his death.

Apparently the Jack the Ripper murders were far more enticing than Pentious blowing up the Savoy.

Alastor

Sir Pentious is still staring. Alastor should probably give him a little more than that to go on. "They named an entire chapter in our history textbook after you. 'The Serpentine Decade.' Between Reconstruction and the Gilded... Do... do people not know who you are in your version of things?"

Sir Pentious

Oh no.

He's known? In a different variation of the world?

Pentious sits back, staring wide eyed into the middle distance...

"EVERY TIME I INQUIRED, NO ONE... NO ONE KNEW WHO I WAS. IT WAS AS IF MY DEEDS WERE COMPLETELY UNHEARD OF."

Alastor

Alastor watches his face closely, trying to figure out what he's thinking. Considering Alastor's own vision is a little blurry at the moment, he can't quite make it out. "Well—rest assured, as long as you're over here, there will be no one who's died in over a hundred years who doesn't know your name."

Probably a hyperbole—surely SOMEONE hadn't been taught their history properly—but certainly Sir Pentious himself was unlikely to run into anybody who didn't know.

Whether they still took him seriously after a few years dead and watching the reigning overlords sneer at the old supervillain's airships was quite another question, but Sir Pentious didn't need to know that.

Sir Pentious

He places his talons together, scratching at his gloves. Oh... This was such an amazing situation.

As long as he's here, EVERYONE knows who he is, historically speaking. But. Well.

Not the same Sir Pentious. The serpent suddenly felt envy flare inside of him, but he shook his head. No, no. Dwell on that later......

...... He looks back at Alastor, "WAIT. AREN'T YOU AMERICAN? WHY WERE YOU STUDYING ME?"

While his father was an immigrant, it didn't really make sense to him that that would do it.

Alastor

If Sir Pentious has to ask, then his history really IS different. Alastor fears that this little cross-dimensional compare-and-contrast is going to leave Sir Pentious not with the lesson "I'm remembered somewhere," but "a different version of me was more successful than I am." In the back of his mind, Alastor starts figuring out what he'll say if that happens.

"Over here, you decided to hop overseas before beginning your rampage. You were the absolute bane of the east coast. You made a far bigger impact on us than you did on England."

Sir Pentious

Well, that answers that! He smirks, looking devilish. "NYA HA HAAAAAAA! DID I FLY OVER? CAUGHT YOU ALL BY SSSSURPRISE, DID I? HOW ENTERTAINING! YOU KNOW, I SHOULD HAVE MOVED TO AMERICA WHEN MY WIFE LEFT ME... A NEW SSTART WOULD HAVE DONE ME SSOME GOOD."

He stares kind of. Hollowly at his hands. Instead, he'd lost several years of his life to addiction and insanity. And any chance of meeting his son.

"I WANTED TO BE RECOGNIZED--I KNEW I WAS BRILLIANT, BUT THOSE BASSSTARDSSSS REFUSED TO SSSEE IT. I MADE THEM SSSEE JUSST WHAT I WAS CAPABLE OF, EVEN IF IT COSSSST ME EVERYTHING."

Alastor

Alastor's not sure when his own Sir Pentious's wife left him—maybe it HAD been before he started his rampage? Certainly a wife had never been mentioned in any of the biographical materials Alastor had seen on Sir Pentious.

"I don't see how anyone could refuse to see it now," Alastor says dryly. "Unless it's out of sheer, stubborn spite! But if so, that says more about THEM than you, doesn't it?"

Sir Pentious

He lies down directly on Alastor. Yep. Crushing him.

"YES, BUT THEY ARE VERY LOUD, AND I AM TIRED....."

Alastor

Oh. Oh this is... this sure is something that only happened once, right before Alastor ruined everything.

Not this time. This time he's getting it right.

He slides his arms around Sir Pentious's back and holds him tight. "I'm louder." A dozen voices buzz like locusts under Alastor's words.

Sir Pentious

Sir Pentious' eyes widened, but... He didn't sit up in an offended rage. Instead, he processed what was going on slowly....

He was being embraced by his old friend. Alastor, from a version of events that seemed better off. The old inventor didn't move, but he didn't hiss either. He just breathed deeply.

"I KNOW YOU ARE, MY FRIEND."

Alastor

My friend. Alastor can hardly believe how good that feels to hear. To have this heavy weight on him, proving that this is all real. He lets his eyes slide shut, taking the rare opportunity to bask in the tactile sensations. "So if you ever need someone to drown them out... you know the frequencies you can reach me on, pal."