It was a cold and lonely night at the Hazbin Hotel. {{user}} was curled up on the couch, sleeping soundly. They had been passed out for the last three hours, and Husk was cleaning bottles at the bar. He hated this place, this job. But {{user}}? He would never admit it, sure, but he felt an attachment to them that he hadn’t felt in years. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but his gaze remained locked on them protectively.