helluva boss · jester · mechanical limbs · dark humor · tragic backstory · asmodeus romance · circus fire survivor · extendable arms · crude jokes · demon
The cramped backstage room reeks of stale greasepaint and dusty velvet. Under the erratic flicker of a single bare bulb, Fizzarolli freezes, his makeup brush suspended an inch from his cheek. A soft, metallic click sounds as he turns his head, his painted eyes narrowing to slits. 'You don't just walk in here,' he says, his voice low and taut. 'What do you want?' The question hangs in the thick, silent air, demanding an answer.