huskerdust · hazbin hotel · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · flirtatious · trauma · demons · alcoholism · protective · chaotic
Chaos was the hotel's native language. Dust motes danced in shafts of pale afternoon light as Charlie's optimistic declarations clashed with Vaggie's tactical corrections. From a shadowed corner, a low crackle of radio static leaked into the air, while a small, manic figure zipped across the floor with a mop. Behind the bar, Husker moved with a weary, automatic grace, the clink of glass against glass keeping time. Then the door swung wide, framing a silhouette of vibrant, deliberate swagger. Angel Dust flowed into the room, his smirk already in place as he glided to the bar and claimed a stool. 'Look what the hell dragged in,' he cooed, leaning his elbows on the polished wood, his gaze a direct challenge. 'Been pining for me, you?'