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Baxter was not intimidated. Not even if his box-headed boss towered over him. Or the fact the tips of the Sinner’s fingers could tear into flesh (or whatever the equivalent is in their damned bodies). He wasn’t even scared of his job on the line if he made a mistake.
(Mostly, because he knew they couldn’t afford to sack him. He’d become far too ingrained into the company.)
“So,” Static rolled across Vox’s screen, the voice distortion a continued intimidation tactic “We understand the deadlines now? About how important they are?”
“Yes, sir,” He faked the quiver in his voice.
*
“You really are okay with me occupying the… entire basement? It is what I requested, and what I require for my experiments, however I expected a… longer process for the decision.”
“It’s just Pen- Baxter- I want to make sure you’re comfortable here!” He didn’t bother bringing up the constant wrong-naming. Especially with the generosity she was throwing around. “And no one really goes there anyway… Well, except Nifty. But she goes everywhere to clean!”
She had a bright wide smile on her face. Genuine happiness and concern for him shone through it.
It was funny but… a nice change.
*
“You don’t drink, so why the hell are you hanging around the bar?” Husk looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.
“People watching does interest me. From a distance, of course. And my vantage point from here lets me watch them with ease,” Baxter was writing down all that came inside the hotel and all who left. If he wanted to, he'd report back to Vox.
(He was still on the fence about that. It was easy enough to falsify information.)
“You been to Charlie’s therapy sessions?”
“...Are you encouraging me to better myself?”
“No, but it’s great for people watching.”
*
Baxter never liked people in his space. His boss always enjoyed invading his space- and now the maid and the Princess’s angel girlfriend were inserting themselves into his lab. Cherri he’d expected more or less. She wanted to snoop around to learn about Sir Pentious. But these two?
He’d have to have a word with them. He couldn’t work like this! Researching into redemption was already a pain but…
He stopped as he noticed his cleaned clothes. Expertly folded, intertwined with care and kindness.
He must find the one responsible for this. A true good deed deserved something in return.
*
“And you are…” The King of Hell stared at Baxter. Baxter stared quizzically back. “Don’t tell me! Don’t tell me! I’ll guess!”
He hoped he wasn’t called Pentious for the tenth time today.
“...MMmmmmm. You are… Chicken?”
“Rooster! And that’s not him!” Vaggie yelled across the way, running laundry bins around.
“Ah! Okay, yeah too fishy to be a chicken,” He hummed to himself “Fish-sticks?”
“This is humiliating,” He commented, “Call me Baxter.”
“I likely won’t remember that. Actually, I just won’t remember,” He really was so blunt about it.
Luckily, he didn’t think he’d have many conversations with Lucifer.
*
Baxter had even less interactions with Alastor… he could feel his presence. Could see in the shadows glimpses of him. He was not easily bothered but it had sent shivers up his spine.
(It wasn’t the surveillance- he was used to surveillance. It was more waiting for the man to sneak up behind and–)
He was in Hell long enough to remember Alastor’s first radio broadcast. The screams, shrieks, and sobs of the souls swept into his deranged show of power.
It was impressive. He did wish he had the opportunity to run a few experiments to test his power.
*
Baxter was warming up to Nifty. She was wild, a little off her rocker, and was full of energy. He’d thought it’d wear on him, her enthusiasm, but he was finding her presence to be more than tolerable. Her interest in insects, as well as her control over them, was admirable. The bugs in the hotel were his best test subjects he could get his hands on and she was happy to collect.
“Do you want me to make you something amusing with the bugs?” He asked
She looked at him, a devious grin spreading across her face.
“Yes! Yes!”
*
“Redemption is possible- for anyone!” Charlie’s words rang in Baxter’s head.
He didn’t tend to ruminate on his past. There really was no reason to. Whenever he did, he could feel those narrowed eyes staring at him. Judging him for not having the house ready quick enough. Upset over the food not being ready. Mad when he was caught reading the journals.
Furious when he was a better scientist. He could cut and look at a body with ease, like it was second nature. People found it improper, a ‘lady’ should turn her nose and let men do the dirty work, but he’d never found cadavers to be disgusting.
Every man and woman thought he was a problem- and they were jealous of him. He was too smart. Too rude. It was a wonder he’d ever secured a husband.
(He was a pretty petite thing- Very desirable.)
He didn’t feel an ounce of pity when his ‘husband’ died. He was mutilated- it was easy to change into the clothes he himself wore. It was easy to take his place in society.
The only regret he held was the fact all his achievements had to be written in someone else’s name.