The nightmares.

The nightmares had intensified significantly since his return to the hotel. Not that he stayed there permanently, but he'd been staying more frequently due to the increase of sinners seeking redemption, which meant more paperwork. More finances to look over. Maybe, for now, it was a good idea for him to stay around others, in stead of handling his worsened mental state on his own.

He had woken up in a cold sweat that night. His regular nightmares had morphed into something different. Exchanged for something he couldn't shake.

Clothes scattered on the floor. Moans so loud that not even his static could drown it out. He didn't want to be there, he didn't-..

Slowly, now. Exhale. There we go.

He'd given up on attempting to go back to sleep. His hands still shook as he put on his shirt, trembling fingers closing the buttons meticulously. He didn't bother with his waistcoat, nor his coat. He left it at the shirt, his dress pants and his spectator shoes. After all, he wasn't planning on having any company. He just.. Needed out of his room.

So, as silently as a shadow, he moved through the hotel to his radio tower. A space he considered safe. He just needed space. He just needed to calm down.

The stag slowly sat down in his chair, fingers closing around the arm rests. Squeezing. Relaxing. Squeezing... He exhaled slowly, one hand going up to slowly slide down his face, crimson orbs closing tightly.

"So, the king of hell has no power over sinners? At all?" The radio demon asked as he managed to corner Lucifer in the hotel where they were alone. "There's a large chunk of hell that would take advantage of that and love to torture you as you're helpless to defend yourself. Myself included." He said menacingly as he loomed over the devil with radio static increasing as he spoke.

There were more Sinners in the hotel halls and the lobby, each one going about their business and genuinely interested in redemption now. But right now, Charlie didn't care about that. It was about time for Emily to arrive at her usual agreed upon time. Maybe with a return letter to Cherri from Sir Pentious--

But Charlie thought it was about time for something else. She tapped her heel on the carpet while she waited, and the moment the blue bubbly and watery portal opened up, her expression lightened considerably.

Lilith’s heart aches with thinking about their daughter, not only with all she’s been hearing Charlie go through, but also just knowing that she also left her behind for many years too. “I’ve missed her too…”

The maternal instinct twists within her like a knife, having remembered her vow to never be parted from her child. After all, she had endured much loss and grief to receive the gift of a daughter Charlie was.

“Ah…yes, I did. I wanted to answer and reply to each and everyone of them, but it was part of the deal that I didn’t. And I’m a woman of my word.” Even if she hated Adam, she had to remember who she had been fighting for (and it wasn’t her ex.) She smiles into the kiss. “I’m back now, and I promise, I’m not going anywhere for quite sometime.”

She pauses, biting her lip. “Do you think Charlie thinks differently of me? Am I a horrible mother?” A rare moment of vulnerability she only shares with him.

She chuckled a bit. "I have a weakness for sweets. But I really try not to let myself get carried away. I make some damn good spiced hot chocolate. It's my abuela's recipe and it's amazing. I'll have to make it for you."

"This is gonna take a while..." Eve pressed a hand to his chest, red energy swirling around her arm and down to her hand, moving to spread through his body, working to heal his injuries.

It was unfortunately just never reported that Abaddon had never returned after being sent to Earth to cause chaos on his 10,000 year. Hell had merely moved on without him, leaving the Gate unguarded and his castle to be razed and left as only an acid pit. The hotel, old and with a veil achingly thin, merely looms like a shadow.

There's a low crash inside after Lucifer knocks upon the door, the sound of a woman yelling after what sounds like children following it. Hasty sounds and then the doors open, revealing a frazzled woman who is doing her best to seem pleasant.

"Hello, welcome to the Undervale..." seen as a guest, he's let inside easily enough. Though a pile of rubbish and splintered wood stands out like rot among the neat lobby.

She's gotten used to wearing the dresses, to seeing a face that's almost hers, but isn't quite when she catches her reflection in the mirrors. The glamour is mild, at best. It tints her hair a fraction more yellow, makes her horns a little larger, and it's only really in the depths of the palace that she can let it drop away, but even then, it's all similar enough that people have to look twice.

It's not like anyone knows the truth, no one aside from those who absolutely need to: her, Lucifer, Belphegor. As far as Mephistopheles knows, she's been dragged into a long-term contract like the one he had with Faust all those centuries ago.