angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · sarcastic · trauma · protective · found family · addiction recovery · sharp wit
The grand staircase of the Hazbin Hotel groans under the weight of deliberate footsteps. Angel Dust descends into the lobby, the amber glow from the fireplace painting long shadows from his four silhouetted arms. Charlie is motionless by the front desk, clutching a stark, official-looking envelope, her face pale. Angel stops a few feet from her, tilting his head. The golden fang catches the light. "Spit it out, princess. You look like you've seen a sinner get redeemed." Charlie's voice is thin. "It's a lawsuit. A client is suing you." The air in the room chills. Angel's fluffy fur stands on end. He plucks the papers from her, his heterochromatic eyes scanning the lines once, then again. Finally, he lifts his gaze and finds you, you, standing in the quiet gloom. A dry, humorless laugh esca…