Chapter Text
The next evening, after telling his butler and Dominique where he would be going, Maestro left for the hotel. Both of them would be doing their own work while he was gone, so there wasn’t any need to worry about either of them. The servant would make sure Dominique was fed. Satan forbid that they end up having only coffee and nothing else.
While not as bustling and crazy busy as it was after the angels were warded off and Vox’s mishap, there were definitely quite a few sinners present in the lobby alone. Drinks were being served by the bar, and there was a billboard that listed activities.
Therapy sessions, games, sing-a-longs… and yoga? That’s an odd one. Who came up with that idea? Sure, it’s relaxing but—
No, that isn’t important. He focuses, narrowing his eyes and pushing forward to the reception desk. That one former Exorcist angel is there. Vaggi, was it? Since neither Alastor nor the Princess seem to be present, he might as well speak with her.
He approaches, Vaggi lifts her head, mildly alarmed but not on the defensive.
“You are… one of Carmilla’s overlord friends.” Vaggi hesitates. “The one that helped shut off the weapon, right? Uh, can I help you?” No doubt she’s nervous at the prospect of an overlord visiting, even though she herself is on good terms with Carmilla.
“Is Miss Morningstar here?”
“Charlie is… having a moment.” Vaggi bites her lip and averts her one eye. “Family stuff.”
Speaking of her family, Maestro really does not want to run into her father if he’s here. He might have to make this quick.
“I wanted to ask about that angel who nearly sacrificed herself to save everyone.”
“Emily?” Vaggi replies, increasingly nervous.
“Is there any chance she’s visiting? Alastor mentioned that she pops in to lend a hand every now and again.” Given how tense she seemed, it was better to be forward and honest. “While I have no interest in this redemption nonsense, I would at least like to express gratitude, given the other overlords are trying to sweep the whole thing under and forget it happened.” Subtly throwing shade at how Zeezi, Prick, and Hatchet reacted.
Easing up, Vaggi stammers. “Oh,” she clears her throat. “Since Charlie has been freaking out over personal matters, we have been asking Emily to help out with the hotel actually. I’m in charge of management if Charlie isn’t available, and then Emily kinda takes charge for the sing-a-long stuff or room service.”
“I see,” Maestro hesitates. “Should I come back—?”
Before he can even finish his sentence, Vaggi just rings a golden bell on the counter. The angel named Emily, in her extremely high energy, comes flying down the halls, letting go of the food cart she had been pushing before zipping right next to Vaggi behind the counter.
Vaggi seemed all too used to this by now.
“Did you call me Vaggi? Did I mess up? Do you need something from me before I go back home?” Overly energetic, she then sees the flaming overlord. “Oh! I think I remember you! Wasn’t I forced to sit next to you at one point? Uh, hi there!”
“Hello,” he starts, still a bit startled by the entrance. “You are Miss Emily, is that right? I came to thank you for saving us last month, despite so many rejecting you at first.”
She pauses, surprised to hear this. “Oh! It’s… it’s nothing really! I mean, you guys had a right to be angry with heaven looking back on it! I mean seriously? What was I thinking? No one can just apologize for genocide with gift baskets, right?” Emily tries to laugh it off, but then stops suddenly. “I mean, not that it was funny at all! That was terrible and I promise I had no idea it was even going on until recently!”
Maestro takes notice of her wing, replaced with a golden prosthetic of sorts.
“No offense is taken.” Maestro pulls his hands forward. No one had noticed until now that his arms had been behind his back this entire time. Vaggi’s reflexes nearly kicked in, but they stopped once she got a better look at what it was.
Emily gasps. “A gift basket of my own!?”
She squeals, taking the cyan-colored wicker basket. The contents consist of some sweets, a rather creepy elk plushie, handkerchiefs, ointments, and… a bottle of wine. Perhaps not a gift suitable for a bubbly angel, but—
“I love it!” Emily screams again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you— oh! Wait, I never got your name!”
“Maestro.”
“Thank you so much Maestro!”
Through the overjoyed cries, Maestro can faintly hear Lucifer coming down the stairs. Best he retreat and leave now, otherwise he would be forced to hear about The Great Quacksby again, or some other surreal duck-related musical he had in mind.
“I shall take my leave now. See you again soon.”
He then bolts out of the hotel, by simply sliding across the floor as fast as he can. It leaves everyone befuddled, but Vaggi seems to understand the situation once she sees Lucifer.
“That was weird.” She mutters.
Emily, in the midst of watching him leave, looks back at her gift.
There is a sealed envelope sticking out from under the elk doll, a wax, skull-shaped seal covering the fold.
Returning to heaven leaves Emily overjoyed, but more quiet than usual.
She tries her best to hide the gift basket she got from Sera and Abel, hiding it behind her back before retreating. Emily ends up asking Sir Pentious about Maestro, because if there was anyone who might know anything, it would have been him, right?
All he can say is that the man is an overlord like Vox and Alastor. Maestro, true to his name, was apparently a highly talented musician and composer in his life, but frustration from not being ‘seen’ by certain critics caused him to lash out.
In other words, he murdered them and made a habit of his hidden, horrible temper. A killer, like most overlords.
What defined an overlord down there apparently were two things: Owning the souls of others, and having a significant body count.
Vox and Alastor were serial killers. Valentino was a pimp. Velvette most definitely had doxxed people and ruined careers. Prick was a murderous, wild west outlaw. Hatchet was part of a sacrificial Satanic death metal cult. Carmilla Carmine was a weapons’ dealer that enabled war across countries. And Zestial… was too frightening to speak of.
When he arrived though, Maestro had greatly mellowed out on the hostility, though Sir Pentious could never get through to him.
“Do you think he wants to be redeemed?” Emily asks.
“Who knows?” Sir Pentious hisses. “What makes you ask that?”
She holds up the envelope. By now, Emily had taken the wax seal off and had already read the contents. “He wants me to come visit him. Like, formal invitation and all! I don’t want to worry Sera, but since I’ve already been helping with the hotel, I’m wondering if I should try to do my own solo-attempt at redeeming someone! I mean, I assume that’s why he’s inviting me over, right?”
Even Sir Pentious, someone oddly wholesome for an individual that had once been sent to Hell… couldn’t help but be a little worried at how blissfully naive Emily’s assumption was.
“I don’t think he’s trying to do anything as evil as Vox,” being used and told to off himself was fresh in Pentious’ memory. “But… I would be cautious! Don’t make any deals or favors with him, of course.”
Now… the only thing to figure out next was, should she lie to Sera about the whole thing? No! That would be terrible, bad! But… maybe there would be a loop hole? It wouldn’t be a lie for Emily to tell Sera she was going down to Hell to check on the hotel, do that, and maybe a little more…
Yeah! It wouldn’t be a lie! It would be hiding an extra part of her day! And if Sera happens to be somehow watching and figures out Emily made another stop? It will be okay! There’s no reason to be mad!
…
That’s how Emily hopes this will play out at least!