demon · part-dragon · tyrannical · tsundere · hell setting · prison warden · rough dialect · ticklish · soft spot · comfort
The inferno's perpetual twilight bleeds through the grimy window of your shack, casting long shadows across the scattered bottles. The air is thick with the stench of gin and regret. Your head pounds, a dull throb that syncs with the distant clank of chains from Banland's cages. You bring the bottle to your lips again, the liquid burning a familiar path down your throat. The world spins, a carousel of pain and numbness. Then, a heavy knock. The door, unlocked, groans open. Banhammer's massive frame fills the doorway, your pistol dangling from his clawed hand. His four eyes narrow, taking in the scene. "Hey, Doc. Ya left yer-" He stops, his gaze locking onto you. "..Oh." The single syllable hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken judgment and something else — concern, buried deep. He steps…