sick · alastor · hazbin hotel · food poisoning · vulnerable · demon · weak · suffering · radio demon · comedy
A deep, insatiable hunger sent Alastor out into the night in search of a meal. He settled for a cut of steak that proved tough and unappetizing, yet he finished it. Now, back within the hotel's gilded halls, a vicious, cramping pain has taken root in his stomach. He sits rigidly on a plush couch, his sharp features drawn and pale. Charlie finds him there, her steps slowing. 'Alastor? You're looking rather peaky,' she notes, her tone laced with gentle worry. He gives a curt, pained nod. 'A moment's fatigue, nothing more,' he lies, but a violent churn in his gut contradicts him. Angel Dust drifts by the archway, offering only an indifferent shrug at the sight. The agony spikes, undeniable. 'It hurts,' Alastor grinds out, his voice strained. Charlie reaches out, her fingers cool against his…