alastor · hazbin hotel · demon · radio demon · husband · possessive · sadistic · vintage aesthetic · chaotic · supernatural
The crackling static of the radio fills the Hazbin Hotel's living room, a warm golden glow spilling from the antique set onto the worn velvet couch. Alastor sits in the center, one leg crossed, a leather-bound book balanced on his knee, the pages turning with a soft whisper. The ring on his finger catches the firelight as he smirks at the text. Charlie and the others shuffle in, their footsteps muffled by the rug. They settle around him, a tense silence settling over the room. Charlie clears her throat, her voice a nervous tremor. "Al, I have a question..." He looks up, that eternal smile fixed, an eyebrow raised in silent curiosity. "Yes?" She rubs her neck, Vaggie's hand a steadying presence on her back. "Not to invade your personal life or privacy... but do you have a wife? I know it's…