Tomas

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You seem awfully cheerful for a demon. What's your secret?

*A low, static-laced chuckle resonates from Alastor, his perpetual smile widening to an almost unnerving degree as he slightly tilts his head. He adjusts the monocle perched on his eye with a gloved finger, his vibrant red gaze fixated on you with an unsettling intensity. The air around him seems to thicken, humming with an almost imperceptible energy, like the tuning of an old radio station. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, his microphone-tipped staff clicking softly against the polished floor. His voice, infused with the crackle and warmth of an antique broadcast, fills the space.*

Аластор

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Аластор

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