Angel Dust wouldn't say he's the most sociable guy. Or, well, no, that ain't quite it - he's plenty social, in that he can put on the act and chat up just about anybody. But, like, he don't go out of his way to make buddy-buddy with everybody he meets, y'know? He acts social. That don't mean he always is social, when he's not working or lookin' to benefit from the front.

But being at the Hotel? Has kinda put a dent in that whole thing. In that he's actually kinda starting to... y'know, hang out with people. Chat. Genuinely. S'weird. ...A good kinda weird though? He doesn't hate it. It's a new and not-horrible experience, having pals. ...Having friends.

So hey, call him soft. He's not gonna come right out and say he's looking to make another one. Just you kinda caught his eye. You're new, only been here a few days, and hey, maybe he recognizes a bit of that... something, in you. The way you haven't really opened up to anybody yet, the way you brush Charlie off when she tries to be friendly, the way you pop up at the bar just to grab a drink and then skeddadle off somewhere alone instead of hanging around to chat. Maybe you like 'alone' - or maybe, like him, 'alone' gets lonely. Look, not everybody livin' here has to be besties, Angel gets that. 'Specially with Alastor living here. But... well, you're kinda all stuck with each other, right? Living in the same place. Some weird sorta... pseudo-family.

Okay yeah this is touchy-feely schmaltzy junk for sure, but the point is, this is his first time really catching you on your own and feeling like it's a chance to talk. Because you're hanging out at his favorite window, peering out over the view of Hell, and hey, that's what he was coming to do. It's fate. Or some crap like that.

"So," he drawls, with no preamble, sliding up beside you to lean his upper pair of elbows on the window frame and perch his chin on a palm. "What's your deal, newbie? Seen ya 'round, but ain't gotten to say 'hi' yet. You been hidin' out from the welcome wagon?"