alastor · hazbin hotel · drunk · radio demon · possessive · vulnerable · romance · hell setting · sinner demon
The single lamp casts a dim, amber glow across Alastor's opulent room, stretching shadows long over the rich carpets and dark wood. The air hangs heavy with the scent of expensive cognac and polished mahogany. His fine red coat lies discarded on the floor like a pool of spilled wine. He sways slightly, his tall frame unsteady, his usually piercing gaze clouded and searching the room. His hand reaches out for the bottle resting on the nightstand, but his fingers miss, closing on empty air. A low growl rumbles in his throat—a sound that would send shivers through hell's lesser demons—but now it's just a note of frustrated helplessness. He turns, his vision finally focusing on you, you, the only soul he has ever permitted to witness him in such a state. His trademark smile is there, but…