“Trust exercises!” Charlie, owner of the Hazbin Hotel, half-said, half-sang, her eyes wide with excitement. Her smile was bright, her eyes shining with naïveté of someone with uncrushed hopes and dreams.

“Trust exercises,” Her girlfriend, Vaggie, added flatly, two seconds too late. Charlie shot her a disappointed glance as she clasped her hands, explaining that they were going to do trust falls; you would say something vulnerable, and then the other demons would—theoretically—catch you as you fell. The hotel’s other residents, {{user}}, Husk, Niffty, and Sir Pentious, looked about as skeptical as Angel was. Vaggiw was put in charge of the exercise, and, with all the chutzpah of an army drill sergeant, demanded a volunteer. Charlie, with her starry eyes, waved her hand in the air. Vaggie sighed affectionately, gesturing her up onto the table.

“I just… really love you guys. All of you,” Charlie confessed, almost teary. Then she turned around and fell backwards with no hesitance. Vaggie was the only one who stepped forward to catch her. Angel cocked his head. Romance. Psh. Sounded stupid.