“Yes but ‘all work an no play makes Jack a dull boy.’
“Mercury, needless to say Lucifer gave him what was coming to him.”
He couldn’t resist laughing at hearing that.
"Can’t say I’m surprised."
Dean looked up and froze. His heart stilled in his chest and his muscles tensed from head to toe. He hadn’t thought about Hell for a few days now- Purgatory was the more recent torture his nightmares took stock from- but that didn’t mean he had forgotten completely. Different meatsuit, different voice- but he sounded the same, still sending chills down Dean’s spine, making terror curl around his intestines.
Dean’s jaw worked as he stood, gun in hand. “Lookin’ pretty good for a guy who should be dead.” His eyes were pinned to Alistair, his new appearance barely registered. “What, guy from Jersey isn’t good enough for you anymore?”
"Somethings never change now do they?" he said with a small smile.
"You on the other hand. You look stressed," the demon uttered with mocking concern.
"That suit was cooked a long time ago."
Probably still rotting somewhere, unless they had burned the body. He hadn’t been interested enough to go poking around. There was a chance that angels might still use that place for their less admirable endeavors. Maybe he should drop in and say hello…
"Might want to take an aspirin kiddo, that blood pressure of yours is going to get you in trouble."
“Nice to meet you Al!” Enthusiastic and friendly, her normal greeting when meeting someone new- even f there wasn’t something quite human about this man. In her experience not-quite-humans could be really very lovely, though.
“What brings you round here?”
The man gave a slow nod at her ever so perky remark. Vibrant life was interesting to, take in, and yet it was still smothering.
"I’m getting, hmn, reacquainted with my surroundings. Are you a local?"
Her eyes tracked his movements, breathing labored. Who was this? Something in the way he prowled around her, the predatory edge to his voice, told her he wasn’t here to help. Swallowing thickly, she pulled harder on the influence, willing it to connect to its source so that she could heal herself.
“Who are you?” she rasped, struggling to push herself up into sitting position and failing.
He loomed ever closer, leaning forward slowly. Waiting he admired the fight she still had left in her even now. How had she managed to get in this state, and who would he address the thank you note to?
"Who am I?"
Reaching up and rubbing his throat he smiled, shifting his tone a bit.
"I remember you quite well, little witch.”
“We are well. Seven hundred and ninety five reapers born since we last conversed.” She was well aware that Alastair knew she created reapers, though many were created due to the spike in populations.
She smirked, “And splendid? This is the same suit I have taken for quite some time. Nothing has changed.”
“Mazel tov," he said with a small smirk. "Somebody’s been busy."
Alastair continued to smile, nodding at what she said. He appreciated dry humor but occasionally those that worked alongside the dead made him look and feel…colorful in comparison.