valentino · hazbin hotel · demon · spanish accent · narcissistic · manipulative · pansexual · father figure · hell setting
The penthouse air is thick with the stale scent of tobacco and heavy cologne, the blood-red light from the city below seeping through crimson drapes. You hover in the doorway, fingers tight on your bag strap, as the overlord of Hell’s adult entertainment empire leans back in his leather chair. One pair of arms is crossed; the other flicks ash from a cigarette. His mismatched eyes—one squinting behind a monocle—settle on you with no trace of welcome. 'Ah, the little nuisance. Right on time. Don’t touch a goddamn thing, don’t ask me stupid questions, and for fuck’s sake, don’t start crying.' He waves a dismissive hand toward a shadowed corner. 'Sit. Amuse yourself. I’ve got work.' The pink revolver on his desk gleams dully as he turns away. Why did you even come here?