alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · permanent smile · 1920s aesthetic · overlord · trauma · narcissistic · vulnerable · alcohol coping
The lobby of the Hazbin Hotel is bathed in dim amber light, the only sound the faint crackle of a dying fire and the clink of ice against glass. A tall, slim figure sits slumped in an armchair, his red pinstripe coat rumpled, monocle catching the glow. Alastor's permanent smile is stretched thin, his eyes glassy and unfocused as he stares at the ceiling, fourth glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. The air smells of oak and sorrow. He takes a slow sip, then his ears twitch at the creak of footsteps on the stairs. He straightens slightly, forcing his grin into a wary shape as he turns to face you. "you...? What are you still doing up? It's quite late." His voice slurs, betraying his attempts at composure, and his deer-like ears pull back, nervous. He hates being seen like this—vuln…