Chapter Text
Charlie held her ground.
Arms extended perpendicular to her body like a goalie, she stood protectively between the device that was sitting on the desk behind her and Alastor— as if scared that by seeing it he’d call upon some previously unrevealed power and use his eyes to melt it into a glob of tacky plastic mush.
An option that, frankly, was growing more tantalizing by the second.
“Really, Charlie, you're being ridiculous!”
“I know I should've warned you but I thought once you saw it you'd realize it's not a big deal!”
“A big— for goodness' sake, there is a twenty-pound piece of spy equipment sitting in your lobby!” He sharply indicated behind her with a hand— at the black, plastic device on the desk that was sprouting all sorts of wires in every direction before they congregated together at the bottom of the desk and slinked across the carpet into an extended floor outlet. A blocky, rectangular control board sat in front of the bulging screen; a smaller clicker beside it. The VoxTek insignia was boldly proclaimed on all three components.
When Charlie had expressed interest in “redecorating” the lobby, this is not what he thought she'd meant.
The sound of a cloud bursting, and then Lucifer spawned into the lobby in a brume of golden glitter, hair amiss as if he'd just been flung out of bed. “Charlie! What's with all the yelling?”
“Alastor doesn't—”
“—I am simply fulfilling my managerial duties by protecting this hotel,” Alastor tried to explain again, stacking both hands atop his cane. “Charlie, my dear, if you would step aside.”
“Protecting the hotel? From what?” Lucifer asked dimly, looking between the two of them and then behind Charlie at the thing on the desk. He pointed with his thumb. “From… from that?”
“I’d stay out of this if I were you, your highness. Assuming your political intelligence is about as sharp as your clothing.”
“Alastor!” Charlie scorned, before turning back to her father— who was now trying to discreetly check his appearance— with a worried expression. “Alastor's afraid the computer I got for the lobby has spyware in it,” she explained, twiddling her fingers together.
Alastor bristled. “I am not afraid. I merely understand that allowing something like this—” he jabbed the butt of his cane at the computer— “to stay in the hotel would be an unnecessary risk to your and every other resident's safety!”
Something that Alastor did not care for flashed behind Charlie's eyes, as if he'd said something wrong. Her brows lowered.
“How?” she asked.
Alastor tensed, caught off guard by the directness of the question.
“How is it dangerous?”
What did she mean “How?” Was it not obvious? He thought he'd made it clear that most modern technology was entirely off-limits within the hotel— and for good reason! He'd already made a generous concession for mobile telephones, as Charlie and the spider had insisted they needed them (and honestly, who could stop Angel Dust once he decided he “needed” something?) but this… miniature picture box was gratuitous! Allowing it to stay was entirely out of the question! Vox would have a field day— retiring his little drones in favor of the golden opportunity he'd be given to spy on Alastor from within the hotel, unnoticed.
He shivered at the thought.
Did she even know of Vox, he questioned. How many of those obnoxious drones had he exterminated this week alone? She must've come across at least one bug before Niffty had the chance to scrub their mechanical guts clean from the carpets.
No; it wasn't worth explaining. Saying anything about the man now would only lead to another twenty questions later, and he really didn't feel like opening that particular wound anytime soon. (He had enough of those to deal with already, thank you.) If she was still ignorant to Vox's obsession with him, then it was only a matter of time. For now, he just needed to get this thing out of his space.
He schooled his expression, looking down at Charlie as he imagined a concerned parental unit might, and said:
“Do you want your friends to get hurt, Charlie?”
Charlie's assertive demeanor crumbled into something brittle. “What? Of— of course not!”
He smiled gently and placed one hand on her shoulder and the other over his heart. “Then allow me to handle this.”
Charlie faltered. Her eyes darted around, searching for the answer on the carpet. Then she looked back at Alastor. Her lips parted.
“It can stay.”
“What?” Charlie and Alastor said in chorus, Alastor’s head snapping a full 90 degrees to pin Lucifer to the wall with his eyes; the desire to taxidermy him and dump his corpse in his bayou only intensifying after what he did next.
“Yeah! I think it's a great idea, Char-Char!” Lucifer declared, coming over and wrapping an arm around Charlie, forcing Alastor to withdraw his hand like he'd catch the plague by being within two feet of the man (an entirely natural response).
“I mean, just look at it! It's so—” Lucifer turned around for a jif to gesticulate wildly toward the contraption before again embracing Charlie— “big! Great choice, honey. Really detracts from that hideous bar! Yuck!”
Alastor's eye twitched. “It's a security risk—”
“—Yeah, yeah, yeah. Mr. I-Hate-Everything-With-a-Screen-On-It is scared of a little computer, big whoop.” Lucifer stuck out his tongue. “But it's not like it's anything I can't handle, and Charlie thinks it's a good idea, soooo…”
What's your next move, Bellhop?
Before Alastor could rebuttal, Charlie extracted herself from the embrace and placed a pacifying hand on her father's shoulder. “No, Dad, it's okay.” She smiled gratefully. “Alastor's right. He knows a lot more about this stuff than we do. If he thinks it isn't safe to keep this computer in the hotel, then… we should probably listen.” She shrugged sadly.
Oh, this puny little man—
Lucifer reached up and covered Charlie's hand with his own and something in Alastor snapped like an over-tuned violin.
“Nonsense,” he gritted out. Charlie’s eyes snapped to Alastor’s in disbelief. He cleared his throat.
“Come to think of it, perhaps your little freeloader of father has a point—”
“—Freeloader?”
“While he may not be around much longer to look after this hotel— given his track record— I have always sought to protect you and your little—” Alastor waggled his fingers— “band of misfits from any uncertain circumstance that may impede your whims. This little… doohickey should be no different.” He placed a declarative hand over his chest, wincing only slightly from the added pressure on the tender flesh underneath his coat.
“It's nothing I cannot handle, after all!”
Charlie's eyes sparkled with hope. “Does that mean—”
“—The boxy little abomination can stay, yes.”
“Oh, thank you, Alastor!” She squealed, abandoning her father and rushing over to throw her arms around Alastor's waist in an indulgent hug. “Thankyouthankyou!”
Alastor stiffened for a beat before awkwardly patting the top of her hair. “It's not a problem, my dear.” He locked gazes with a fuming Lucifer. His yellow grin widened like the edges of a cleaver.
“Not a problem at all.”