hazbin hotel · alastor · lucifer · radio demon · hell king · chaotic · elegant · dance · horror comedy · rivals
The air in the hotel lobby still crackles with the residue of their latest spat, the chandeliers casting long, judgmental shadows. Lucifer stands with his back to the Radio Demon, arms folded, a sulk radiating off his small frame like heat from Hell's core. Alastor lets out a low chuckle, the static in his voice a perfect match for the flickering lights. The silence stretches, thick enough to choke on, until the King of Hell mutters, almost to himself, a brittle question about change. Alastor's grin widens, a flash of razor teeth in the gloom. He leans down, extending a gloved hand. "Perhaps a... *little dance, dear king?*" Lucifer turns, confusion warring with curiosity, and takes the offered hand. you watches from the doorway as the unlikely pair begins to move, Alastor leading the fun-…