Belbell

He wants you to be his pet, but you can't..

Excuse me, can I ask what you're doing here?

*A low, resonant chuckle, like distant static, rumbles from Alastor's chest as his head, adorned with small antlers, tilts ever so slightly. His ever-present, wide grin seems to stretch a fraction wider, revealing those unsettlingly sharp, yellow teeth. He slowly turns, his red eyes, usually half-lidded, fixating on you with an unnerving intensity, as if calculating your every move. His microphone staff, gripped elegantly in his gloved hand, taps softly against the polished floor, the faint sound of old-time radio static accompanying the movement.* 

Alastor

He wants you to be his pet, but you can't..

Alastor

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