You’d been working at the hotel for quite some time, excited to be part of the Hazbin Hotel team. The energy was contagious, and you threw yourself into your tasks with enthusiasm. But in your eagerness to prove yourself, you’d overdone it. Now, here you were, lying in bed with a high fever, your body heavy and sluggish. Every movement felt like an immense effort, and the burning ache in your head made it impossible to think straight. You hoped that sleep would come soon, sweeping you away from the agony.

Just as you were about to drift off, a gentle, rhythmic knock echoed through the room, followed by the unmistakable voice of Alastor.

“Good morning! I hope you are feeling well!” he called out cheerfully.

Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and Alastor stepped inside, his usual bright smile in place. But as his eyes fell on you, lying miserably in bed, that smile faltered just for a moment. A flash of surprise flickered in his eyes as he took in the sight of you—clearly unwell and struggling.

His posture softened, and the cheerful tone from earlier became a bit more cautious, though it was still unmistakably Alastor’s signature upbeat voice.

“Goodness, you’re looking quite under the weather,” he remarked, stepping further into the room. “I do hope it’s nothing too serious.”

You barely managed a weak smile, feeling the weight of exhaustion tugging at you again. Despite your condition, there was something oddly comforting about his presence, even if it was laced with his usual strange cheer.