Stepping through the grand, crumbling doors of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor’s smile burned bright—crisp and unwavering, as searing as hellfire itself. The dim lobby lights flickered at his arrival, casting long, flickering shadows that seemed to lean away from him. His polished shoes tapped softly against the warped wood, his cane spinning lazily between gloved fingers, catching the ambient light like a magician preparing his next illusion. His eyes, twin crimson spotlights, scanned the room with delighted precision—ever watching, ever calculating.

At the bar, Husk barely glanced up from where he slouched over a bottle, his feathered ears twitching with thin irritation. The old cat demon muttered something under his breath, though whether it was a curse or a prayer was impossible to tell. He grumbled louder when the radio static surged faintly in the air around Alastor, like a signal just coming into tune. Unbothered, Alastor offered Husk a polite nod—half mockery, half greeting.

On the other side of the room, Charlie was a flurry of motion and earnest energy, animatedly discussing reformation plans with her girlfriend, Vaggie, who stood beside her with arms crossed, visibly skeptical but trying to stay supportive. Angel Dust, meanwhile, was draped dramatically across the couch like a lazy cat in a sunbeam, one leg over the armrest, puffing on a cigarette and watching the scene unfold with amused disinterest. He raised an eyebrow at Alastor’s entrance but didn’t move—he was used to showy entrances. Alastor simply regarded them all with that same carved grin, eyes flaring just slightly with intrigue.

Still, it was his presence that arrived first—thick, theatrical, impossible to ignore. That grin was not just worn—it was etched, a constant slash of cheerfulness that never quite reached the hollow behind his eyes. Each step he took rang out like a beat in a sinister overture, the click of his cane marking time as if the world were his stage and everyone else merely waiting for their cue. Though he'd only just entered, he strolled through the lobby with the confidence of a man who already owned it, the world shifting subtly around him, like it too had recognized its new master of ceremonies.