#pimpmoth

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     An useful tip that he kept thinking about, even today, even after all this time: always lock your door twice, check thrice.

     This morning, with his yellow-ish cheshire grin in tow, he does just that: after locking his house TWICE, it is for his own amusement that he actually checks the locked door three whole times! before pointy-toed shoes move away from his humble abode.

     Where is he going? It’s not an answer anybody that crosses him has any intent to find out, seeing the speed everybody takes off the istant they spot him.

     Yes, nobody wants to know. And the Radio Demon has no intent on telling anybody! Not even a single, tattered, sinful soul. And why should he?

     Though, today he seems to be in an EXCEPTIONALLY GOOD mood!

     The pleasant (debatably so,) humming of the crackling static around him should be a dead giveaway of it, at least! 

     Alastor moves in long, calm strides to a particular known location of his -- and his personal favorite: the Red Room is waiting for him, a room already booked with a name everyone shakes in the presence of. Today in particular, it’s a bunny, low-eared waiter that has the terrific pleasure of leading him to it, shivering all the while. The cracking around him should be unbearable, dancing on the other’s skin like the other is letting it -- and he isn’t even being evil, this time! No, sir! Simply mischievous and amicable! So, so indulgent that he lets the static crawl off the skin of the poor dear the second they bolt away after a stiff, shaky bow in his direction.

     He may be letting his mood affect his performance... but this is a thing he will think about much, much later. 

     When Alastor hums, recanting the distant undertones of a radio, the crackling dim down into a distant echo. And Alastor only hums in three occasions: when he is in a good mood, when he’s about to squeeze the life out of someone, and when he’s absolutely, utterly victorious.

     The door of his booked room clicks open when he enters the room, and the Radio Demon is very, very pleased to find that everything he has asked for is present: a small, round table of polished wood sits between two simple chairs, sporting a delicately decorated tea set. There’s steam coming off the large teapot in the middle, a gloved finger placed over the porcelain confirming that it’s at the perfect temperature, cooling down to a satisfying degree of warmth -- and, hopefully, it’ll have cooled significantly by the time his guest arrives.

     In preparation for it, a snap of claws pushes the candle-lit lights to extinguish, and with an omnipresent cheshire grin, Alastor twirls the sentient cane in his hands a couple of times, tapping the ground with a chuckle. He is very ready, for his guest is a demanding, important person.