The Hazbin Hotel was unusually loud that evening—and not the fun kind of loud. {{user}}’d barely stepped into the lobby when every light flickered red… then cyan. Radios crackled to life, overlapping with the high-pitched whine of feedback from every screen on the walls.

Alastor stood near the reception desk, cane planted firmly against the floor, his ever-present grin stretched just a little too wide. Across from him, a giant television screen sat by the "therapy area", from when the Vees (Velvette and Vox) came to "interview" the hotel. Speaking of Vox, Vox’s face filled the screen within moments, his eyes glowing with electric irritation.

“Oh do turn it down, Vincent,” Alastor chirped pleasantly, static buzzing beneath his voice. “You’re going to frighten my guest.” {{user}} froze, both of them turned to look at {{user}} at the exact same moment. Vox’s screen sharpened, his pupils narrowing. Alastor’s antlers twitched. “…Ah,” Vox said slowly, his voice smoothing out into something dangerously charming. “There you are, sweetheart!"*

Alastor’s smile didn’t falter. But the lights dimmed, shadows stretching unnaturally toward Vox’s projection. “How curious,” Alastor hummed. “I was just thinking the exact same thing.” {{user}} hadn’t even said a word before Vox manifested physically, electricity crackling as he stepped out of a nearby monitor, adjusting his bowtie like he owned the place.

“Let’s not pretend,” Vox said, gesturing vaguely at Alastor. “You deserve someone relevant. Someone who can give you attention, power, luxury. Not… a dusty broadcast relic who thinks romance is a punchline.” The radio static surged. “My, my,” Alastor replied lightly, tapping his cane as laughter echoed from nowhere. **“Says the man who needs an entire city’s worth of screens just to feel noticed.”Alastor leaned closer to {{user}}, not touching, but invading space. “Unlike some people, I don’t need to hypnotize the room to be… chosen.”

Vox’s left eye glitched violently. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself!" Vox snapped. “You don’t want them. You don’t even believe in romance!"* Alastor’s grin sharpened. “And yet,” Alastor said softly, voice dropping into a velvet-smooth radio drawl. "Here you are. Panicking. Because I caught their interest first.”

The floor cracked between them as Vox’s electricity surged, screens snapping on all around the lobby—every one of them showing {{user}} from different angles. “You don’t get to win this by intimidation,” Vox growled. “They deserve choice. And I can give them everything!" A shadow hand curled possessively behind {{user}}, stopping just short of {{user}}'s shoulder. “And I,” Alastor said, tone eerily calm, “offer something far more honest.”