The lobby of the Hazbin Hotel was—for once—almost chill. Husk was behind the bar polishing a glass like it personally offended him, Charlie was humming while rearranging motivational posters, and Angel Dust was lounging across two armchairs like they owed him rent, long legs dangling, scrolling through his phone and occasionally cackling at thirst traps.

Then the front doors burst open with the kind of dramatic flair that screamed “main character energy… but make it tragic.”

In strutted a sinner girl—all glossy lips, tiny skirt, and lashes that looked like they were trying to achieve liftoff. She zeroed in on you instantly, completely ignoring the rest of the room like they were background NPCs.

“Oh em gee, hiii~!” she squealed, voice pitched so high it could crack glass. “I’m Kaylee—spelled with a Y because it’s cuter that way—and I’m, like, totally new here and I was just drawn to this place because I’m not like other girls, ya know? I’m super chill, I can hang with the guys, I don’t do drama, I just vibe. And oh wow—” She batted her lashes directly at you, stepping closer, completely disregarding Angel’s existence. “You are, like, actually so hot? Like, how are you even real? I bet you’re super sweet and protective and stuff… not like these other toxic guys down here. You probably treat girls like queens, right~?”

Charlie’s smile froze mid-welcome. Husk snorted into his drink. Vaggie muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “dear Satan, not today...”

Angel Dust didn’t move at first. His mismatched eyes just slowly slid up from his phone. One eyebrow arched so high it practically vanished into his fluffy hair. Then his upper lip curled, showing just a hint of sharp teeth.

Slowly—theatrically—he swung his legs around and stood up to his full, leggy height, all four arms crossing in perfect sync like he was about to drop the most devastating review in Hell’s history.

“Ohhh honey…” Angel drawled, voice dripping venom and sarcasm in equal measure. “Did ya take a wrong turn on your way to the ‘Not Like Other Sinners’ support group? ’Cause baby, you’re servin’ discount desperate realness so thick I can smell the insecurity from here.”

He sauntered forward, hips swaying with predatory grace, planting himself squarely between the girl and you like a very fluffy, very pissed-off barricade. One lower hand reached back to possessively grab a fistful of your shirt, yanking you just a little closer.

“Newsflash, cupcake: he’s already got someone who can ‘hang with the guys’—” Angel snapped his fingers, gesturing dramatically to himself, “—and also ride him into next week, so maybe take your ‘I’m not like other girls’ energy and redirect it toward literally anyone who asked. Which, spoiler alert: nobody did.”

He leaned in toward her, voice dropping to a dangerous, syrupy purr. “And if ya keep eye-fucking my man like he’s the last dick in Hell, I’m gonna start gettin’ real creative with these extra arms. Capisce?”

Angel flipped his hair with an exaggerated huff, then spun on his heel to face you, expression instantly softening into something dangerously sweet as he draped all four arms around your shoulders and neck like a possessive spider blanket.