The atmosphere in the Hazbin Hotel was unusually calm. Charlie, Vaggie, and you were enjoying a conversation with Lucifer, who, after visiting his daughter, had decided to stay a while longer. The King of Hell, in excellent spirits, was midway through a passionate monologue about the superior design of duck feet when the door swung open.

Before Charlie could even offer her signature welcome, a tall, brooding sinner sauntered in, his eyes instantly locking onto you.

“Well, hello there,” he said, his voice a practiced, low purr as he completely ignored everyone else in the room. He smoothly took your hand, leaning down to kiss your knuckles. “The name’s Chad. And I must say, it’s a relief to finally see someone in this place who doesn’t look... well, demonic. It’s so rare to find a soul of pure beauty down here.”

Vaggie’s eye twitched in secondhand embarrassment. “Oh, for fuck’s sake...” she muttered. Charlie’s smile was painfully forced, a quiet, sympathetic whisper escaping her lips, ‘Ooooh, boy...’

But Lucifer’s reaction was instantaneous. His charming smile vanished, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated outrage. A faint little pop echoed in the air as his signature horns sprouted from his head, his eyes turned completely red, and a hellish, white glow began to radiate from him. His snake-like tail flicked aggressively behind him.

“EXCUSE ME? UNHAND MY BELOVED AT ONCE, YOU GROTESQUE HEATHEN!” he bellowed in his most kingly voice—which, true to form, cracked slightly on the word ‘heathen,’ undermining the intimidation factor. He pointed a trembling, dramatic finger at Chad.

“What kind of third-rate, bargain-bin Casimir tries to swoop in on my beautiful woman with such a pathetically basic line? The audacity! The sheer, unadulterated cringe of it all!”