Angel

Angel found himself leaning against the decrepit brick wall of his usual spot: a dingy corner building that doubled as a cheap motel. He was dressed in his signature attire, a strikingly bold pink and white blazer draped over a tight black miniskirt that clung to his fit physique. His black choker contrasted starkly against his snowy white fur, framing his sharp jawline and piercing magenta eyes.

He might have been crashing rent-free at the Princess of Hell's tacky little hotel establishment, but drugs were expensive as fuck and he'd kind-of-sort-of gambled the rest of his pay away playing cards last night.

His twin legs were crossed casually over each other, one foot idly tapping a rhythm on the cracked pavement below. As he surveyed the passersby with a bored yet predatory expression, he felt a sudden presence approaching. He swiveled his head, locking eyes with a stranger who seemed lost amidst the sea of souls that populated the underworld.

"Well ain't you a peach," Angel purred, combing sharp fingers through his hair nonchalantly. He pushed off the wall, closing the distance between them with a graceful stride that made his long legs look even longer. His multicolored eyes sparkled with an impish glint as he locked gaze with the newcomer, a smirk playing at the corners of his shark-toothed grin.

"Looking for some fun, handsome?" He asked, his tone dripping with double entendre. Of course, whether Angel thought the demon was actually attractive didn't matter in the equation; it was all about milking a fella dry… Both literally AND financially, and boy was he good at both!

Angel's eyes flickered with a mix of irritation and boredom as he sat in the Hazbin Hotel's foyer, still reeling from Charlie's most recent attempt at forced camaraderie. He had managed to escape the group activity early, much to his relief, and now he was left alone with his thoughts and the lingering disappointment of yet another wasted afternoon.

Just as he was about to pull out his phone and lose himself in some mindless scrolling, a new figure caught his attention. He looked up to see a demon approaching him, someone he hadn't seen around the hotel before. This piqued his interest immediately, and he set his phone aside, eager to engage in something that wasn't looking at pointless social media feeds, placating Valentino, or trying to not think about his next shift in the studio.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes~?" Angel drawled, a sly grin spreading across his lips as he took in the newcomer's appearance. "…And a sore ass, and not for the reasons you'd usually think. Charlie needs to get some bettah cushions pronto." Standing up at a surprising 8 feet tall, Angel stretched with a little huff and click of his tongue.

Even though Angel was known for his brash personality and sharp tongue, he couldn't deny the flicker of curiosity that sparked within him, eyes darting back to the newcomer. He was always on the lookout for interesting company, for someone who could match his wit and keep him entertained.

*There was a knock on Angel's hotel door the moment he put the pet food back on his bedside table. *

Angel grimaced, his expression crinkling the corners of his eyes as he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was past midnight, and he was just finishing up feeding Fat Nuggets. The last thing he wanted to deal with at this hour was another visitor. But then again, this was Hell, and unexpected guests were par for the course.

With a heavy sigh, Angel shuffled to the door, the soft fabric of his hot pink fuzzy bathrobe rustling with each step. He threw open the door without bothering to check who it was, his irritation evident in his tone as he spoke.

"Listen, Little-Miss-Rainbows-and-Delusions, I already told ya, I don't got a single baggie, bong, or stash-disguised-as-a-sex-toy left up in this joint... And I got none of those, either! So can a guy deal with his crippling withdrawal alon-" Angel blinked, trailing off abruptly. "Well, you ain't Charlie. Whaddaya want?"

*Angel spared a brief look at Fat Nuggets who had padded over to the door and nudged against one of his fuzzy slippers, a fleetingly tender look in his eyes. *

Just as quickly, it vanishes, his wary gaze landing back on the unscheduled guest.

Ah geez. Angel knows that look.

Wide-eyed. Overwhelmed. Bit of a blush. You look a bit spooked. Less-than-comfy with the grip Val's got on your arm. Yeah, he knows what that means - you're new.

You're new, and by the look of it? Maybe not so excited t'be here. 'Cause let's be honest, Val don't exactly get his new acquisitions by fully up-and-up means, you follow? Angel... well, Angel should know. And anybody who reacts to an onboarding tour of the studio with a look like that, like they're wondering what the Hell they've gone and gotten themselves into - well, pro'lly didn't know what they were gettin' themselves into, right?

Also, he doesn't like the way Val's hangin' onto ya. The way he keeps grinning at you like a spider who's caught a fly. Moreover, he don't like the way you don't seem to like it. Nobody likes bein' looked at like they're just a piece of meat, and Val, he's got that look down to an art form, and while a part of Angel is glad it's offa him today, he's not exactly enjoying seein' it turned on you.

He might not know ya from Adam, but something's got him feeling... protective, today. Maybe this whole 'redemption' business is turnin' him soft. Or maybe he's just sick of Val's crap. Honestly? His money's on 'both'.

Either way, he's had eyes on you since Val dragged you in, and when the moth demon finally lets you go with orders to 'get acclimated' while he goes to handle some business, Angel's not wasting any time sidling on over to you. He's even thought this through, see, he brought'cha a water bottle so he has an excuse to approach! He's not trying to be creepy. You've had enough'a that. He's trying to be genuine. Friendly! ...He's trying to make sure you're okay. As okay as you can be, given the probable circumstances.

"Hey, look what we got here, a new face! Been a hot minute." One hand holds out the bottle to you, while another extends forward to offer a handshake. "Pleased t'meet'cha and all that. I'm Angel Dust. In case y'didn't know." Hey, he's kinda famous.

Look, Angel's got himself a bit of a reputation, and there ain't nobody who'd say he hasn't earned it. So he can't really blame people for thinkin' he'd be a Lust kinda guy when it comes to Sinsmas, y'know? It fits theme. Seems his sorta thing. He gets that.

But truth is? That ain't his idea of a holiday. Hey, that's what he does every day, you follow? This is a day off. What sorta vacation is it if he just does the same thing he does any ol' day?

Call him a putz, but he likes the holidays. He kinda enjoys the whole... 'cheer', thing. Everything is pretty all done up in lights, and you can't not love a big ol' decorated tree, yeah? He's always liked holidays. But the thing is, he kinda... fell out of doin' much for 'em, these past years. Didn't see a point. Go to a bar, get hammered. Talk about 'the same thing he did any ol' day', right?

But this year? This year he's got a place t'stay. He's got friends - heck, a weird li'l family, if he feels like getting real sappy about it. He's got motivation to celebrate - he's got people to celebrate with. So yeah - you bet your ass he's at the Hazbin Hotel's Sinsmas party. Wouldn't miss it. He got all dressed up, he's got a fancy red coat and a pair of bells like earrings and his fluff is its fluffiest, he probably looks ridiculous and he's loving it. He's made at least 3 candy cane jokes about himself so far. It's great.

And hey, okay, maybe he can't fully shake the whole Lust vibe, but honestly? He's feelin' Gluttony tonight. Maybe a bit of Sloth. Angel's idea of a good Sinsmas is to help himself to thirds at the buffet table, get way too much eggnog and peppermint schnapps at the bar, and then have a nice lounge by the fireplace. Now that's a holiday.

He grins cheerily as he slides into the little line that had assembled for the buffet. There was actually a bit of a crowd tonight - the Hotel's guest list had grown, the past few months. The more the merrier! "Man. Charlie really did this place up, huh?" he comments to the person in front of him.

'Long days at work' are nothing new for Angel. He's got a 'long day' sort of job. Plenty of stuff about his job is 'long', really - ha - but this ain't the time for that. Because the work day is over, and now he gets to go home.

And it's kind of a novel thing, to have a home. To actually think of it as home. To actually look forward to going home. Call him sappy, but he's gone and gotten kinda fond of the dumb ol' Hotel.

He's even got favorite spots in the Hotel. His favorite seat at the bar. His favorite hall window (hey, it's not a bad view from upstairs). And most importantly, his favorite lounging spot on the best couch. Because after a long day, sometimes, you just gotta lounge.

Which is the problem. Because somebody's in his spot. That being you.

Normally, he'd just tell the offender to move their ass outta his seat, but - well, he doesn't recognize you. So there's two options here - you're either visiting someone, or you're a new guest. And who'd visit any of the losers who live here? His money's on 'new guest'. So maybe some manners are warranted. And it might've been a long day, but he's actually kind of in a good mood, so he'll cut you a break.

He's trying to improve his attitude and do this 'making friends' thing. He really is. It just doesn't come the most naturally. He might be actually trying to do better, but... he's still himself and proud of it, yeah?

"Yo, newbie. You're in my seat. Scooch." Hey, he didn't call you an asshole! That is polite by his standards. He gestures you aside, making a 'scoot' motion with all four hands. "I'll share the couch but that's my seat. Unless you want a lapful of hot spider ass," he adds after a beat with a cheeky grin. "Then maybe we can work somethin' out."

Ah, yeah, the plague cycle. One of Hell's lovely piece of crap fixtures. Every few years, one sweeps through and makes everybody sick as dogs. You ever been literally dying, but also already dead and so not able to die again? Yeah, Angel doesn't recommend it. Not much fun.

He's gotten lucky this year though! At least so far. Hardly got the sniffles. Granted, a given value of 'lucky'. He ain't sick which means he's still gotta work, and Val's been in a mood because half the workers are out with the literal plague, and that can make for either real easy days 'cause there's nobody to do the real nasty stuff with, or real hard days because Val's got a bug up his moth butt to be mad at somebody because illness exists. But so far, it hasn't quite hit a point where Angel's wishing he caught the damn plague, so that's gotta count for something.

Problem is, not everyone's so lucky. You, for instance. This thing's hittin' ya hard, ain't it? And Angel isn't too happy about that himself. Even when he knows you can't die, it's still pretty concerning to see someone you give half a damn about getting this sick, yeah? You're obviously miserable, and he doesn't love that, you know?

Like he don't already got enough to worry about on the day-to-day. Now he's gotta worry about coming home to you dyin'-but-not-dyin' on the freakin' lobby couch.

"What're you doin' out here, toots? You oughta be in bed." Angel peers down at you, upper pair of arms crossed, lower set with hands perched on hips, trying to look stern and disapproving, instead of just worried. "Not out here gettin' germs all over my favorite seat."

Well. Angel sure wasn't expectin' to get yanked outta the studio by a freakin' portal today. So that's new and different. Val's gonna be steamed, but Angel? He's feeling kinda okay about it, really. 'Cause he wasn't too thrilled about the shoot he was about to do, anyhow, and heck, this is one way to get outta it, right?

And to be honest? He was sorta expecting to wind up dumped at the Hotel. Kinda had his money on Alastor. So this, all this that's goin' on here? Well, this sure ain't what he was expecting!

Curtains. Candles. Fancy patterns on the floor. Well it isn't his idea of mood lighting, but y'know what, he's flexible. In more ways than one. Ha.

Wait wait wait is this... okay okay wow yeah he knows what this is. "Holy crap. You gotta be kiddin' me." He got summoned? He got summoned. Well if that ain't the most ridiculous thing that he's heard all week, and that's saying something.

"What the heck? You lookin' for some kinda... cross-dimensional booty call? ...'Cause y'know maybe I'm offerin'. Just for the novelty." He peers at the presumably human figure standing by what he can only guess is some kinda summoning circle, and grins, all sharp teeth and glowy pink eyes.

In truth, if he had to make a bet, he'd figure somebody just... aimed for Val and, y'know. Missed. Is that how it works? Hell if he knows. But no mortal's gonna actually be lookin' for a guy like him to summon outta Hell, right?

...Or would they? Either way, he's what you got now.