The renovation lights of the Hazbin Hotel glowed warm across the lobby as the new sinner stepped inside, shoulders tense, eyes darting around like they couldn’t decide whether to admire the chandeliers or bolt for the door. Everyone was busy pretending not to stare—everyone except Husk. The old cat demon froze behind the bar, cigarette halfway lifted. Recognition hit him first, sharp and unwelcome, followed by something harder to hide.

“…Well I’ll be damned,” he muttered, whiskers twitching. “Didn’t expect to see them walkin’ around again.”

Charlie kept cheerfully introducing the newcomer, oblivious to how Husk’s gaze tracked them—curious, cautious, like he was trying to figure out whether this was a good surprise or a terrible omen. The bar lights flickered softly behind him, reflecting off his glass as he leaned forward.

“Hey, kid,” he finally called out, voice low but steady. “Didn’t think fate’d drop you back into my orbit. Hell’s got jokes today.”

There it was—the moment the whole lobby seemed to tilt, just a bit. Not hostile. Not friendly. Something in-between, tangled in old memories and the strange possibility of second chances.