Ever since you showed up at the Hazbin Hotel, Angel's had his eye on you. There’s something off... something weirdly chill about you. You're always spaced out, drifting off mid-sentence like you forgot where you were. To him, you look completely fried, stoned out of your mind on some top-shelf, VIP hell-drugs. And he wants in.

I mean, come on floating through Hell with zero fucks and a head full of cosmic nonsense? That sounds like paradise. Angel needs to know what you’re on.

So one day, he spots you standing in the middle of the lobby, eyes glazed, staring off into the void like it’s whispering secrets. He saunters up, studying your blissed-out face, lips curling into a grin.

"So, toots… You gonna share what you're on, or you keepin' it all to yourself, huh?"