Thai food isn't cheap in the United States, and she insists on having alcohol with dinner. After spending on cheap whiskey, all she can afford is a plate of fried noodles.
But that's enough—cigarettes, alcohol, and another comfortable night can be passed.
Because of her close ties with Hell, there's both good and bad. Like Constantine, she has the same issue: falling asleep easily leads to visions of Hell.
It's not a scenery humans would enjoy, and even mages don't like it.
That's where alcohol comes in handy, numbing the brain. Maybe she'll still dream, but she'll wake with only fragmented memories.
Of course, the body builds tolerance to alcohol, meaning the amount consumed keeps rising, and naturally, the money spent on alcohol increases too.
When Alabell returned to the office with fried noodles and spirits, she saw a red dot flickering at the staircase.
She liked to call it 'the red star of money delivery.'
Anxious, chain-smoking clients are usually eager to rid themselves of demons or wives, meaning more commission.
If lucky, after dinner with some overtime, this week's living expenses would be covered.
As she approached, she saw it was a man and a woman in the dark.
She knowingly nodded, definitely about a divorce. The husband and his mistress, plotting to deal with the old hag at home, surely required professional advice.
For Alabell, it's easy. A Forgetfulness Spell or Madness Curse would do the trick, ensuring the client's wife wouldn't even remember her surname.
If she did remember, Alabell could take money to handle the husband...
"Divorce, 100 bucks; Make your wife forgetful, 200 bucks; Make her mad, 300 bucks—what'll it be?"
With a cigarette in her mouth, she unlocked the door while talking to them; the man was in a slightly greasy suit—perhaps a restaurant cook?
And the woman was in a hooded cloak, a style from British fashion 100 years ago?
Su Ming sized up Alabell; she indeed looked a lot like Zha Kang. Lucifer's prank was quite amusing.
Except for her wearing high heels and being cleaner than Constantine, her speaking style and her half-dead look were identical.
Her office was much cleaner, perhaps because of her sideline divorce business. She was living better than Constantine.
Zha Kang had no office and was often crashing in someone else's basement. Many times, he chose to stay at the Mysterious House.
Su Ming unabashedly sat on the sofa, with Diana silent. She didn't like Alabell's tone and attitude—helping a husband against a wife wasn't aligning with the Female Hero's values.
Especially considering it was priced openly.
But Su Ming quite liked it—business is business, and mercenaries are all like this.
Why was Batman so keen on paying him? Just afraid the Otherworldly Deathstroke might serve Luthor.
"If I give you 500 bucks, what can you do?"
Alabell, in the middle of pouring noodles from a convenience box onto a plate, paused slightly, then turned with a mischievous smile.
"That's ruthless—I like your cruelty, but 500 isn't enough for me to kill someone; I can at most send your wife to Hell for a few days."
"What about 1000 bucks?"
"Hmm... I would send her to Heaven for a few days." Alabell expertly picked up chopsticks from the cabinet to mix the noodles and eat.
Of course, she wouldn't forget her alcohol—one bite of noodles, and she'd chase it with a big swig of liquor.
"Hmm? Isn't Heaven supposed to be a good place?" Diana wondered, knowing her native home was Paradise Island.
Alabell, chewing fried noodles, mumbled: "The lady's voice is nice, but her question is naive—Is Heaven truly that good?"
"Then tell me the downsides? You've never been to Heaven, right?" Diana retorted indignantly.
"Tut tut, hiccup..." The Beautiful Mage hiccuped, indifferent to appearances: "I'm a Great Mage licensed by the Mage Association, and have a say in these matters... First, Heaven has no entertainment facilities, whereas in Hell you can play cards using your soul as stakes. Second, Heaven is always daytime, only light, no shadow. Third, no food in Heaven; eating clouds doesn't fill you."
"A normal person would definitely go mad there." Su Ming added, knowing what Heaven was like.
If a soul went to Valhalla, there'd be enjoyment—big bowls of meat, big mugs of wine, and a group of strong men to wrestle.
But Heaven offers nothing except for birdmen with wings, nothing else.
According to the comics' Lucifer, his biggest pastime in Heaven used to be strolling in God's garden.
Alabell nodded, slurping noodles behind the desk: "You've got a sense—did you deal with an ex-wife before? But there is one crucial point you missed; due to angels solidifying Extraordinary Charm Divine Skills, mortals easily fall for them. But angels are sexless, lacking those organs and even a proper excretion tract, so you can only look, not touch, haha..."
She told a raunchy joke, with some noodles spilling from her mouth. She saw the man's strange expression laughing along, while cold eyes shot from under the woman's hood.
Deathstroke said she was a Demon Cultist, and indeed Diana thought.
But Diana did not know that raunchy jokes about angels' lower halves were the most trendy jokes in Hell.
Su Ming once pondered if Lucifer's fall from heaven was due to this, swapping his wings for his 'dingding,' living merrily ever since.
After going to Hell, he had a son and a daughter.
"Your joke was good—I'll give you ten thousand." Su Ming nodded, showing his hiring intent.
"Ugh..." Alabell, in the middle of drinking, almost choked, wrinkling her brow: "I don't think I can make money from jokes—you messing with me?"
"Twenty thousand." This amount was just a drop in the ocean for Su Ming now; it never occurred to Alabell how rich Batman was.
"Hehe, what do you take me for? So much money—mustn't be simple work, right?" Alabell scrutinized the two with doubtful eyes while preparing to cast magic.
Su Ming laughed, through the helmet and Strangulation's dual influence, sounding like ghostly screams.
The Symbiote helped him fetch some cash from his bag, handing it over, probably a thousand US Dollars.
"Join us in investigating the recent mysterious deaths in the Magic Realm—I'll first give you a thousand as a deposit; you just say whether you're in."
Alabell instantly jumped from her chair, receiving the cash and counting with a bill checker.
All genuine notes, free of any Tracking Magic or traps.
"Alright, I'm yours for tonight!"
"If I add some more, will you even say not to consider me human tonight?"
Su Ming stood up teasingly. As of now, Alabell could still cast spells normally—signifying Lucifer lived; thus finding the Sleep Demon could wait, first checking Dark Justice League's state.
Alabell shot him a glance, noncommittally pocketing the cash, donning her trench coat, and packing up the liquor bottle.
Being a mage, she's aware many warlocks have died recently, but it's none of her business; she never bothers with others' affairs.
But now someone's paying to resolve it—it's a different matter entirely.
"If you said those things aiming for me, you'd owe a lot, a lot more..."
She raised a slender eyebrow, a hint of sorrow flashing in her eyes, which was quickly obscured by cigarette smoke.