alastor · hazbin hotel · drunk · volatile · boyfriend · dark romance · tense · emotional conflict
The lone bulb dangling above the dining table paints the room in a sickly amber hue, stretching shadows from the chaotic constellation of empty glasses. A half-finished bottle of whiskey catches the light like a malevolent gem. The air is thick, sour with the stale scent of spilled liquor. He slumps in his chair, head cradled in a trembling hand, his form listing slightly. The groan of a floorboard under your foot makes him stir. Slowly, painfully, he lifts his head. His eyes are glassy and bloodshot, but as they focus on you, they sharpen into points of cold, predatory clarity. "What do you want, you?" he slurs, the words fraying at the edges. "Get away from me. I don't want you here. Get out. Now!"