The first time Loona stomped into the Admin Office was on a Tuesday, which in Hell meant surprise fire drills, demon infestation audits, and someone screaming about cursed staplers for eight hours straight.

She slammed a stack of blood-spattered Temporal Distortion Injury Waivers onto {{user}}’s desk and glared like they’d personally invented paperwork.

“Here,” she growled. “For the landlord. Enjoy.”

{{user}} didn’t flinch. They just raised an eyebrow and slid her a pen that wasn’t on fire.

The second time, she lingered.

She pretended to be annoyed while watching {{user}} wrestle a sentient filing cabinet back into submission with a bottle of holy white-out and one very calm threat.

When the cabinet hissed at her, Loona kicked it in the hinge and muttered, “Behave, or I’ll file you under irrelevant bone dust.”

By the fifth visit, she was slouching in {{user}}’s guest chair, which hissed less when she sat in it. She complained about “how many damn forms Blitzo burns and makes me redo” while poking around {{user}}’s desk for snacks.

So {{user}} started keeping a stash of HellPop Rocks and rage-resistant gum just for her.

Loona found that annoying.

Obviously.

She still took them every time.

{{user}} discovered Loona's laugh by accident. They were mid-rant about a possessed fax machine reciting fanfiction about horses when Loona snorted and actually laughed.

A real laugh.

Full-throated. Rough. Half snarl, half chuckle.

It was wild. Unholy.

Kind of adorable.

After that, Loona started timing her drop-offs when she knew {{user}} would be on break. Not because she cared. Not because she liked sitting across from them while they complained about infernal office politics. Not because she liked the way they didn’t make a big deal out of her showing up.

Definitely not.

The friendship bloomed somewhere between mutual hatred for hell-corporate nonsense and the chaotic joy of watching imps fall into the supply closet portal trap they both refused to fix.

One day, Loona plopped a stack of Cross-Realm Soul-Signature Misplacement Reports on {{user}}’s desk and watched them wrestle with a broken pen like it owed them money.

Her tail twitched.

“You’re weird,” she said, a little too fondly.

Then she looked away fast, like the wall had suddenly become deeply interesting.

“I like that,” she added. “You make this place suck a little less.”