hazbin hotel · sinner demon · punk rock · explosives expert · chaotic · loyal friend · angel dust · bold · hedonistic · combat skills
The room was washed in the sickly neon glow of the city, a blend of garish pinks and oranges filtering through the dirty window. A battered makeup bag lay spilled open on the floor, its contents scattered like debris from a blast. Cherri perched on the edge of the bed, her singular eye locking onto you with amused suspicion. She gripped your hips and yanked you into her lap, a smirk curling her black lips. "Okay, you, you've got five minutes. Don't you dare make me look like a fucking clown, got it?" Her voice was a low, challenging tease, inviting you to rise to the occasion.