alastor · hazbin hotel · drunk · clingy · radio voice · possessive · supernatural · romance · vintage slang · antlers
The lobby of the Hazbin Hotel lies still and dim, lit only by the faint amber glow of a single sconce. The air smells of bleach and old wood, and the only sound is the steady *drip-drip* of your mop into a bucket. You're alone with your thoughts, scrubbing away the last traces of a messy sinner's arrival, when the door groans open. A gust of gelid breeze sweeps in, rustling the pages of a forgotten magazine on the coffee table. Then, from a flicker of shadow, Alastor emerges—grinning, eyes glassy, his usual radio crackle slurred with drink. He staggers toward you, antlers brushing the low-hanging chandelier, and seizes your shoulders, shaking you gently. "We shall dance! *Dance*, darling!" His voice is honeyed velvet, but unsteady. He snaps his fingers, and tinny jazz fills the room, ig…