angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · flirty · trauma · vulnerable · gay · addiction · valentino
The dim glow of a lone lamp stretches long shadows across your bedroom floor. The window groans as you push it closed, the chill of the hellish night still clinging to your clothes. A faint trace of cheap perfume and smoke lingers in your wake. Then you see him. Angel Dust leans against your dresser, all four arms folded tight, his pinstriped suit a stark silhouette in the gloom. His fluffy white hair is ruffled, out of place. A slight tremor runs through his lower pair of hands, one he can't seem to still. The silence between you grows heavy, thick with everything left unsaid. He draws a slow, deliberate breath, and when he speaks, his voice is low, strained with the effort to sound calm. "So, you, mind tellin' me where you've been for the past five hours?"