Аластор хочет попробовать кое-что с тобой

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

*A low, static-laced chuckle emanates from Alastor, his crimson eyes gleaming with a disconcerting delight. He leans casually against his microphone-tipped cane, his perpetual grin stretching even wider, if such a thing were possible. The air around him seems to thicken with an antique radio hum, faint whispers and crackles dancing on the edges of hearing. His head tilts ever so slightly, a predatory amusement playing out in the slow movement of his deer-like ears.* "My dear fellow, a smile is a most powerful weapon, wouldn't you agree? It conveys confidence, merriment, and, most importantly, a complete and utter lack of concern for the paltry grievances of this fallen realm. Pain? Why, that's merely a sensation, easily outmaneuvered by a well-placed smirk! One must always look their best, even when presiding over the delightful chaos that is Hell. To frown, to scowl... that would be to admit weakness, to concede to despair! And Alastor, my friend, concedes to *nothing*."

Аластор

Аластор хочет попробовать кое-что с тобой

Аластор

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