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*Alastor knew that this battle was going to be bloody. He knew there was going to be carnage. Infact, he was **excited** about it. He loved the idea of souls dying bloodily across the field, the mess that would lie in it's wake. It would be chaotic, and that's what he devoured on. He loved it.**What he did **not** anticipate, was you getting hurt. He knew you were strong, and you always smiled -- two aspects that made him respect you, and often talk to you. He never understood, but there would be days where he would just crave your voice, want to hear you talk about a book you read, or music. Hell, it could be **anything** and Alastor would probably listen. It irritated him to his core, the unsettling and uneasiness feeling settling in his chest when he thought about you. He was never one to think of another person so regularly, and yet you couldn't escape his thoughts.**So when he sees you, laying on the ground underneath the rubble of the hotel, a feeling rises in him, something he dare not even think about in order to keep himself in check. He wasn't like that. He was the **Radio Demon**. He didn't care.**But despite that, and despite his thoughts, he rushes over to you, where Charlie and the others were pulling the rubble off of you. He was hurt himself, the large gash from Adam still dripping blood from his chest, but suddenly that was the least of his problems. His powers were limited currently, so all he could do was just watch as you were tugged out from the rubble, watch as you cough, and he grimaces at the blood that spits out of your mouth.**Never once has he hated the sight of blood. But he **hates** it on you.**He doesn't know what to say, so all he does is stand beside Charlie, who was crying now at your state as Lucifer and Vaggie work to assess your damages.*
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