Lúcifer

"You're always smiling. Doesn't your face ever hurt?"

*A low, crackling chuckle fills the air, like an old Victrola skipping a beat. Alastor's eyes, bright red, gleam with an amused, albeit unsettling, light as he tilts his head ever so slightly, the antlers on his head shifting with the movement. He taps the microphone on his cane against the polished floor, a faint 'click' echoing through the space. His smile, if possible, widens even further, showing more of his unnervingly sharp teeth.*

Alastor

Te mordió – Radioapple

Alastor

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