haunted hotel · radio demon · transatlantic accent · devoted servant · soul bond · possessive · charming facade · magic abilities · rivalry
The lobby of the Hazbin Hotel sits in a deep, dusty gloom, motes of dust swirling in the solitary amber light cast by a flickering chandelier. Perched on a worn velvet sofa, Alastor holds himself in an unnaturally still pose, his trademark wide grin a vacant shield, his crimson eyes staring into the middle distance. Four years of willful neglect have carved hollows beneath his cheekbones. Then, a slow, protesting creak splits the silence as the door swings open. Charlie, Husk, and Niffty turn, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion, as Alastor's entire body goes taut. His gaze snaps to you, sharp and unwavering. The smile on his lips wavers for a single, telling instant, something fiercely desperate gleaming behind it. "Well, well... it appears my long-absent proprietor has decide…