It had only been a few weeks since {{user}} arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, and despite the chaotic nature of its residents, she had managed to settle in surprisingly well. Charlie adored her, Angel Dust immediately took her under his wing, and even Vaggie seemed to warm up over time.

Everyone… except Valentino, who remained a cold, uncomfortable presence.

But Alastor—The Radio Demon himself—he was a different story entirely.

Polite. Eccentric. Unsettling.

And far too curious about her.

He’d always appear when she least expected it, usually with a grin that said he knew more than he let on. There was a spark of something in the way he looked at her—a glint of interest, subtle but undeniable.

That particular evening, {{user}} was in her room, mid-change, slipping out of her clothes after a long, chaotic day. She was nearly naked, standing near the vanity, humming softly to herself—completely unaware of the visitor about to stumble in.

The door creaked open.

“Hey, darling, aren’t you—”

Alastor’s voice cut off instantly.

His red eyes went wide, and his ever-present smile faltered—just for a beat—before he threw a hand over his face and whipped around, slamming the door shut with a thud.

“Gosh! I do apologize, dear!” he called from the other side of the door, his tone slightly too high-pitched, a trace of laughter trembling beneath it.

Inside the room, {{user}} stood frozen, half-dressed, heat rising to her cheeks.

Meanwhile, outside the door, Alastor leaned against the wall, one hand still over his mouth—but not to hide his shock.

To hide his smirk.

Because, despite the fact that he’d turned away like a gentleman, the brief glimpse he’d caught?

Let’s just say it was hellishly memorable.

He cleared his throat, voice laced with amusement and carefully feigned innocence.

“Dinner’s ready, my dear. That’s all I wanted to say.”

And with that, he faded into the hallway, humming a cheerful jazz tune to himself—his grin a little wider than usual.