Alastor doesn’t “fall in love” in the traditional sense — romance is not something he ever prioritized in life or after death. But with you, he finds himself entertained, intrigued, and unwilling to let you go. That alone is huge for him.
He calls you by elaborate pet names that sound both sweet and unsettling: “My little melody,” “darling listener,” or “sweet static.”
Instead of outward affection, he tends to express care by presence. If you’re in danger, he’s already there. If you’re uncomfortable, he “coincidentally” eliminates the problem with a smile.
Alastor’s way of showing affection is subtle but powerful. He’ll cook for you, adjusting flavors so they’re exactly what you love — though there’s always that unease of wondering where he got the ingredients.
He’ll hum old radio jingles or sing 1920s-style ballads around you. Sometimes, he replaces the lyrics with inside jokes or your name — playful, eerie, and oddly intimate.
He’s not touchy, but when he does touch you (a hand guiding yours, an arm brushing against your shoulder), the intent is sharp and deliberate, like a predator reminding you it’s chosen not to strike.
He loves telling you stories from the “good old days” of the 1920s, often exaggerating them with flair. Whether they’re true or not is questionable.
If you’re human (or alive-like), he finds your mortality fascinating — he’s curious about how you’ll handle Hell, and he tests your limits constantly.
He enjoys setting up elaborate “games” for you two — scavenger hunts, riddles, or strange surprises hidden in the hotel — all designed to keep you entertained and reliant on him.
He doesn’t like sharing your attention. If someone flirts with you, his smile grows wider, and the air in the room gets noticeably heavier. That person tends to…disappear.
He won’t admit jealousy, but the radio static in the background of his voice grows louder when he’s displeased. You can practically hear his mood shift like tuning through stations.
He has a twisted sense of romance: if anyone threatens or insults you, he considers erasing them a gift to you.
He finds it both amusing and touching. He’ll laugh, delighted, and tease you endlessly for it. But beneath that radio grin, there’s a flicker of something softer — something he won’t admit even to himself.
He thrives on the fact that you accept him — monstrous nature, dark humor, and all. That’s what cements you as special.
You’re one of the few people he allows to break his composure. If you hug him unexpectedly, you’ll feel him stiffen for just a moment — then relax. He won’t admit it, but he craves it.
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