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Vincent sat with Alastor at their typical haunt; a quaint little jazz club, specifically sitting at the bar.
The two of them were having one of their regular conversations when Alastor stood up and offered Vincent a hand. The television tilted on the demon's shoulders, giving Alastor a curious look.
Alastor chuckled through his teeth, hand still open and raised. "The band is playing a rather nice tune. Care to dance?"
Vincent felt electricity shoot up his back, like a cat's tail draping against his form, just.. faster. "S-Sure." Vincent took Alastor's hand, feeling his screen jittering as he flusters.
Once Vincent was on his feet, Alastor led him to the main room of the club. The dark planked walls were illuminated by the soft glow of the lights above, dim and inviting. A stage stood at the back of the room, where a small jazz band played a slow love song. The tables were close to the walls, leaving enough floor space for dancers. It was early in the morning, so there were very few couples, save for one or two older sinners.
The radio demon wrapped his arms around Vincent's waist, eliciting a feedback buzz from the television, and began to lead him through a dance. It was slow, mainly just stepping side to side while holding one another.
Vincent was very befuddled as he followed with Alastor's dance. He wasn't sure what to make of this situation. He had no idea what to make of this. So he didn't try to. He was a little buzzed, so it was rather easy.
The two sinners stepped in the rhythm of the trumpet, arms wrapped around one another. The Magnavox's screen was facing the floor, watching both of their feet carefully, not wanting to step on his dance partners feet and scuff his shoes. Said dance partner watched the nervous television intently, lips curled in a smile with a gaze that would be pointed towards a bouquet of daisies.
Eventually, Vincent got the hang of it. He was able to look up and meet Alastor's far too gentle smile without tripping over himself. He sways with his business partner, staring into his eyes, and being met with the same treatment.
Alastor's eyes were transfixed onto Vincent's, leaving his eyelids half-lidded. When Vincent looked into Alastor's eyes, it felt like he was looking into the intricate waves and folds of a roses petals, like witnessing a bloom meant only for him.
Vincent carefully runs his hand up the small of Al's back to just below his shoulders, and back down and up. His coat was woven with such intricate stitching, each stripe feeling so detailed from one another. Vincent looks down at the coat, looking at the stripes closer for the first time. Each red line was stitched with such care, tailored to look like rose vines trailing across his form. Each petal was crafted with love, the thorns even more so.
Alastor started humming along to the tune. Vincent didn't look back up at his face; he instead rested the side of his head against Alastor's shoulder. Thankfully, the movement was not rejected by the recipient.
From that point, it felt as though Vincent was being cradled by his deerest dearest friend. He closes his eyes, the gentle swaying of their dance and the lovesick tune of the band soothing his senses. He felt weight pressing against the top of his head-- Alastor was resting his head atop of it. Vincent smiled slightly to himself, letting out a content sigh.