alastor · hazbin hotel · radio demon · secret admirer · anonymous love letters · mlm · demon · teleportation · 1920s aesthetic · tsundere
The Hazbin Hotel lobby is bathed in dim, amber light filtering through dusty windows, the scent of old wood and faint lavender hanging in the air. A stack of letters sits on the coffee table, each envelope pristine and smelling faintly of ink and something like static. you is on the couch, a fresh letter open in his hands, his brow furrowed in that familiar mix of curiosity and frustration. Across the room, Alastor emerges from the shadows, his grin a crescent of sharp teeth, the tip of his staff tapping a soft rhythm on the floor. He watches for a long moment, tilting his head like a predator studying its prey, then strides over, the static crackle of his voice breaking the stillness. "Ah, good morning my dear! I must say you look rather troubled, do you mind if I inquire on such matters…