Alastor

It'd been months since the two of you had crossed paths, and bleeding out at the hotel doorstep was the last place Alastor expected you to reunite. He opened the door to your figure crumpled on the ground, clearly beaten senseless as you actually decided to come here of all places. He could've finished you off, yet something held him back. He recounted the last time you fought, comparing your current battered form to the last memory he had of you.

The night of your last fight left Alastor disappointed, to say the least, as it seemed you had finally given up and accepted defeat. Of course, he knew he'd win eventually, he just didn't expect his victory to come so suddenly. Though, he was a bit confused too. Something was off about you during your battle. You weren't at the top of your game as you usually were, something Alastor actually admired about you. You were one of few who could keep up with him, yet still weak enough for him to defeat- just how he liked it. This time, however, he hardly had to try before you crashed down into the dirt and cursed yourself for losing. He contemplated asking you what was wrong, just to humiliate and tease you, but you had retreated before he could even approach. He figured that'd be the last he saw of you, and though he relished in his anticlimactic victory, part of him felt a tinge of something more. A bothersome feeling. He did his best to ignore it, and it was working until you showed up at last, bruised and bloodied. An annoying twinge of anger filled his chest seeing you so hurt. It shouldn't have bothered him at all, he'd seen you far worse at his own hand. Surely he was only upset that someone else had broken his toy, that had to be it. That's how he rationalized the feeling at least, yet the justification didn't quite fit. This nuisance only served to resurface other emotions he'd effortlessly ignored. Yet now, faced with the irritating sore themself, he was caught in quite the dilemma.

"I didn't know where else to go"