The walk from the meeting area to where he was booked was short. It only took him about ten minutes to reach the hotel and another ten minutes to climb the stairs to his room. Placing his bag on the bed, he rummaged through his belongings and pulled out the black cloak and mask. Grabbing the hanger, he hang the cloak and placed it near the AC to air it out. The mask was placed on the vanity table; its eyes staring blankly at the mirror. He removed the necklace with the Black Cross' crest and gently placed it on top of the mask. After saying a bit of prayer and grabbing a few bone needles, he was once again out in the city.
It was still early. Might as well go about the city, grab a few supplies for the long and grueling trip [there was no doubt he would be left on his own accord] for either tomorrow and the next day. Maybe see what new sights Bastion had to offer. Walking back around the park, he witnessed a bot struggling with an old guitar. Curios, he moved closer.
"This is impossible," the poor boy sighed, placing the guitar on its case with the strings unwound. Tears were ready to fall from his expressive blue eyes.
"Why destroy such a beautiful instrument?" Asphodel asked, tossing a coin in the case. "May I?" he asked, offering a gentle smile.
The kid nodded, sadness clouding his eyes. "It can't be tuned," he reported.
Sitting next to the boy to at least show him that Asphodel was not one for tricks or stealing. "Never say never, dear." Asphodel started to repair the guitar, his gloved fingers adjusting the strings until he was satisfied with the tune. "This should do," he murmured before he started strumming. The boy's jaw dropped when Asphodel actually started singing.
"An-an angel," the boy gasped out.
Asphodel laughed at that. He had been called that in more than one occasion. It was just ironic to call someone who would kill a person without mercy an angel. It might be fitting for his demon hunting activities but not his personality. "Try singing, dear. Let's go and attract an audience," he encouraged.
Blue eyes widened. “I-I do-can’t sing,” the brat confessed.
“Follow after me then.”
And with that, Asphodel and the boy were walking into the center of the park. At first, the white-haired male sang a few songs from the church before getting into the more upbeat music. he forgot that he still had a mission and enjoyed the ways the people around him reacted to his music. The boy, even, pretended that he was on stage. It only took about ten songs before the case was full of paper bills and coins. With his little mission completed, he gave the guitar back and ruffled the boy hair. "May you live in peace," he stated; a phrase embedded to him working under the church.
"Thank you, Angel," the kid called out.
Grabbing what was needed, the hunter got back to his hotel room and immediately went to bed. The little performance he did had his muscles aching. 'Signs of getting old,' one of the officers of Black Cross would tease. With a nostalgic smile on his face, he drifted off to sweet oblivion.
[Ignore this. I just want to type before heading to sleep]
