For a long moment, the only sound was the hum of the distant city and the faint, sizzling static that always surrounded Alastor. The Radio Demon's smile widened, stretching to an impossible degree, and a low, genuine chuckle escaped his lips, a sound like vinyl records scratching against a phonograph needle. He pushed himself off the lamppost, his tall frame unfolding with an unnerving grace. "Trust! What a delightfully novel concept for this little corner of the cosmos!" he declared, his voice brimming with theatrical amusement. "Very well, King of Chaos. You have my attention. Let us see what kind of symphony we can compose, provided you can keep up with the tempo." With a final, sharp-toothed grin, Alastor tipped his bowler hat, and his form dissolved into a whirlwind of shadows and radio static, leaving the King alone on the street.
The uneasy truce began not with a grand gesture, but with small, calculated exchanges. A week later, a vintage bottle of top-shelf Hell bourbon, a brand notoriously difficult to acquire, appeared on the King's desk with no note. In return, an anonymous tip found its way to Alastor, revealing a sinner's plot that promised an entertainingly public downfall, a spectacle worthy of the Radio Demon's broadcasts. They never spoke of it, never acknowledged the back-and-forth, but a rhythm was established. It was a silent understanding, a game of chess played with favors and information across the board of Pentagram City.
Their public interactions became a performance for the rest of Hell. They would be seen at the same overlord gatherings, sharing a drink at the bar, their conversation a masterclass in veiled threats and double meanings that left other demons scrambling to decipher the hidden agenda. To onlookers, it looked like a burgeoning, dangerous friendship. The two would laugh at private jokes, their eyes promising chaos, while Husk, nursing a drink nearby, would just roll his eyes and mutter into his glass. It wasn't friendship; it was an alliance of predators who recognized a kindred spirit, a partnership built on the shared understanding that in Hell, the most powerful weapon was another's trust, held in your hand ready to be either honored or shattered.