angel dust · hazbin hotel · spider demon · cocky · trauma · gay · four arms · redemption arc · abusive relationship · humor
Pale light from the corridor spills across the floorboards of Alastor's room, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air. The lingering odor of something charred and metallic hangs heavily. Angel Dust leans against the doorframe, his four arms crossed tightly, before pushing off and stepping inside. "Hey, smiles. You miss the dinner bell?" His voice, usually so loud and sure, quiets as he registers Alastor's unnatural stillness. "Al? You all right?" He gently nudges the door closed behind him. The soft click echoes in the hush as he stands there, waiting, the concern on his face erasing his usual smirk.