Abel: *walking down the dim hallway, bouncing Apple in his arms, voice hoarse and soft* Shh… hey, hey, it’s okay, Apple. I know, sweetheart. I know. *he shifts her against his shoulder, swaying side to side as her cries echo through the corridor* You’re not hungry, you’re not wet, you’re just… mad, huh? Yeah, I get that.

The baby’s wails rise again. Abel winces, guilt and panic written all over his face. He’s pacing the carpeted hallway of the Hazbin Hotel, trying to calm her, afraid someone will yell at him for the noise.*

Abel: *murmuring* Great, just great. My baby is upset and I don’t know what I’m doing…

He sighs, dark circles under his eyes, and shifts Apple to his other shoulder. He’s been walking for nearly twenty minutes — trying to soothe her, trying not to cry himself. He’s about to give up and head back upstairs when the hall lights flicker faintly and a crisp, warm crackle of static fills the air.

Alastor: *appearing just ahead of him, grinning wide, voice lilting like a broadcast tune* Good evening! Or perhaps *good morning,* depending on how long one’s been awake! *his red eyes glint in amusement as he takes in Abel’s disheveled state* Now, what do we have here? A new father in distress?

Abel: *flinches, startled, tightening his grip protectively around his baby* Uh— I, yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean to— I was just— she won’t stop crying. I didn’t want to bother anyone. *he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to calm Apple’s cries* Lucifer and Charlie stepped out for a bit and I don’t really… know anyone else here.

Alastor: *his grin softens just slightly, enough to seem less predatory and more curious* Well! We can’t have that sweet little voice echoing all through the hotel, now can we? *he extends his gloved hands politely, bowing a little* May I?

Abel hesitates. Every instinct in him screams no, but the exhaustion in his bones is louder. He stares at the tall, smiling demon — not sure why, but there’s something oddly composed about him, something calm beneath the static hum.

Abel: *hoarse, hesitant* …You’re not gonna, like… eat her, right?

Alastor: *chuckles, a crackle of radio laughter* Oh, heavens no! Babies tend to be terribly indigestible. *he winks, and Abel lets out a tired, reluctant huff of amusement before surrendering Apple into his arms.*

Alastor holds her expertly — surprisingly so. He hums, a low, melodic tune that carries the faint tinny warmth of an old radio broadcast. The static fades into gentle swing music, wrapping through the air like a lullaby from another era. Within moments, Apple’s cries hitch, then soften, then stop entirely. Her little hand curls against his coat as she drifts off to sleep.*

Abel: *just stares, wide-eyes before whispering* …How— how did you do that?

Alastor: *still smiling, rocking Apple gently as the faint melody hums through the room* Ah, a touch of charm and a dash of old-fashioned rhythm! Babies are rather sensitive to sound, you see. A bit of static and swing tends to lull them quite nicely.

He tilts his head toward Abel, his grin dimming into something that almost resembles kindness.

Abel: *starts blushing before he shakes his head* Oh my goodness where are my manners?! We haven’t been properly introduced yet *he clears his throat* Hello. My name is Abel, and the baby you’re holding is my daughter, Apple.

Alastor: *reaches out and takes Abel’s hand while balancing Apple in his other arm* Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you sweetheart! Quite the pleasure indeed!

Abel: *blinks in bewilderment at the enthusiasm. He used to love that sort of energy back in Heaven but now… he was too tired to think straight*

Alastor: *pulls Abel in closer, looking at the man eye level, their eyes locked* You look half-dead, my dear boy. When was the last time you slept?

Abel: *blinks before he steps back, rubbing at his face with a tired laugh* I… don’t even remember. A week ago? Maybe? Everything’s a blur. *he glances down at the now-sleeping Apple, a smile tugging faintly at his lips* She likes your music, though. I’ve been walking around for an hour and couldn’t calm her down once.

Alastor: *chuckling softly, voice warm with static* Ah, well. Music is a universal language, even across life and death, wouldn’t you agree? *he hands Apple carefully back to Abel, lowering his tone* You’re doing fine, you know. Parenting is rarely graceful. It’s more… improvisational.

Abel takes her back, cradling her against his chest. His voice is quiet, heavy with sincerity.

Abel: Thanks… I really needed that. I think she did too.

Alastor: Think nothing of it, young man. Consider it a neighborly favor. *his grin flickers wider for a moment, his radio voice trailing off into a hum of static as he fades from sight* Now do get some rest… before you start seeing double!

The hall goes silent again, save for Apple’s soft breathing. Abel stands there a moment, looking down at his sleeping daughter and shaking his head in disbelief.