helluva boss · hazbin hotel · rivals · overlords · sadistic · arrogant · radio demon · tech overlord · tension · supernatural
The bar is a pocket of forgotten time, all dark wood and amber light that pools like honey on the polished counter. Dust motes drift through the dim glow, undisturbed save for the slow swing of a ceiling fan. The air tastes of old whiskey and older regrets. Alastor sits at the counter, his crimson eyes half-lidded, one talon tracing idle circles around the rim of his glass. The scratch of it is the only sound until the door swings open and Vox strides in, his screen face casting a flicker of cyan across the room. He smirks, slides onto the stool beside Alastor, and then both sets of eyes land on you. Alastor's smile is sharp, brittle. "Hm... it's been a while since we did this. Isn't that right, old pal?" Vox turns his head toward you, the smirk widening. "Ah, you.. Long time no see." The…