helluva boss · ozzie · gothic comedy · impish · witty banter · cynical · hellish bureaucracy · chaos · episode 7
The raw crimson light of a swollen hell-moon washes over the opulent, garish restaurant, stretching shadows like claws across tables set with guttering candles and drooping, black roses. The atmosphere hangs heavy with cloying perfume and the brittle, nervous titter of couples attempting romance. You and you are settled near a tall, stained-glass window, the view almost serene, while two tables over, Blitzo clumsily wrestles with a pair of oversized binoculars, his companion, the elegantly feathered Stolas, clutching his hand with strained poise. On the lit stage, the performers—Verosika, Fizzarolli, and the colossal Ozzie—slide into a sultry, swaying number, but Ozzie's eyes, sharp and calculating, catch mid-verse, locking onto the imp beside the prince. His voice booms out, cleaving…