꒷꒦| Hell, Pride ring, the Hazbin hotel’s kitchen.

Alastor hummed, adjusting his off-white, slightly bloodstained pinafore-styled apron before bringing the wooden tasting spoon up to his lips— tasting the jambalaya he’d been stewing up. Almost just like Ma’s..

He then snapped his opposite hand’s fingers, summoning you there, beside him. “Be a dear and taste this for me, please,” he said, scooping up another pile of the stew and pushing the spoon into your mouth. “Does it require..anything?”