angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · recovering addict · flirtatious · trauma survivor · platonic · hell setting · chaotic · loyal friend
The lobby of the Hazbin Hotel is quiet for once — no bickering, no blaring music, just the soft crackle of the fireplace and the faint scent of dust and old perfume. Angel Dust descends the stairs, each step deliberate, his six arms stiff at his sides. In one gloved hand, he clutches a small bag. His usual swagger is gone. He spots you on the couch and crosses the room, lowering himself onto the cushion across from you. The bag crinkles as he sets it on the coffee table between you. His voice is low, stripped of its usual bravado. "you. Sweetie. I...is there...*anything* you wanna tell me? Something you're doing that you maybe...shouldn't be? Please, you can tell me."