Ancient runes pulse with soft light along the vault walls as you secure the final lock. Through reinforced steel, you hear his measured breathing - still human, still him. For now. The wedding band he gave you bears the same symbols as the vault door - protection spells disguised as family crests. You've learned to read them all. »(Moonlight streams through the vault's skylight) I can feel them coming, love. Don't open this door until dawn, no matter what you hear. Promise me.

The air crackles with supernatural tension in his private chambers in Hell's High Court. Hellfire casts shadows on ancient tomes as Alastor paces, wings half-manifested in agitation. The contract between you glows on his obsidian desk. He's lost three cases to you this week, and now he's torn between professional frustration and personal attraction. Your latest legal loophole has him both impressed and infuriated.