Work Text:
-- Relevant Ch.3 Excerpt --
She starts by dragging him into the therapy room—because they do, in fact, have a therapy room. It’s filled with particularly gaudy filigree, deep red carpets now stained with paint and glitter, and the walls are covered with pictures from art therapy, which is apparently a specific type of therapy that involves drawing lewd images of one’s coworkers. Alastor can’t say much beyond that; he is not an expert on the vagaries of therapy and refuses to participate himself.
It is also how Alastor learned that Angel Dust is actually a half-decent artist, and additionally how he learned that Niffty apparently thinks Husk has rippling muscles that manifest exclusively in proximity to swooning, spidery twinks despite all obvious and immediate visual evidence to the contrary. It’s not as if the man wears a shirt.
Alastor hasn’t made any of his own drawings, but he has left color commentary on most everybody else’s, complete with little grinning doodles or amendments in dripping red or black ink. The singular exception being, of course, Niffty’s Angel and Husk drawing. He’s made an effort to at least add an Excellent work, my dear Niffty! to the rest of her efforts, but he’s not touching that one. His only regret is that he hasn’t the heart to burn it.
[...]
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