Chapter Text
Alastor, The Radio Demon. Possibly the most feared person in all of hell, aside from Lucifer of course, but some goals even Alastor must admit, are impossible. Alastor woke up as he usually did that day, having slept for 4 hours he considers it quite the achievement. And is, indeed, very proud of his insomniac brain. With a click of his fingers, his suit magically wrapped around his scarred body, and his cane is in his hand. Looking towards the mirror of the bedroom part of his room, Alastor fixes the edge of his jacket and pulled his gloves so they fit accordingly. Checking his hooves for any unpleasant dirt or such that he couldve trotted over in the murky streets, and finally, he was ready to leave his room.
Alastor walked out and closed the door behind him, locking it with magic. While there wasn't anything really for people to sneak a peak at other than maybe a few sheets of classical music he had lying around, Alastor still finds the concept of having a lock marvelous. Just absolutely spectacular. The point of a lock is to show that he has this privacy, so show that even when there isn't much to see, people won't be able to see it at all. His father never aloud him to have a lock on the inside of his door, so the concept really does just baffle him sometimes when he forgets about it. He spun on his heel and walked down the hallway of rooms, his smile plastered on his face as always. Alastor turned at the end of the corridor and began down the stairs. The little king- I mean, Lucifer was also at that moment, coming up the stairs. Presumably to squeal and jump about a little bit in excitement because he'd talked to his daughter for more than 5 minutes without accidently being offended, or accidently offending her. The latter is more likely. Alastor had always seen Lucifer as a bit of a puppy; you give them one treat and they'll jump and bark, you give them nothing and they'll still try to lick your face off. Though maybe that wasn't the best metaphor for Alastor to think of it this moment, considering the circumstances of his death, Alastor had understandably come to hate those mutt creatures.
Lucifer and him only exchanged a quick smile that looked more menacing than not. Before the two went on their way and pretended to not know of each others existence. It was nice. Alastor made his way to the bottom of the staircase and went over to husker, who was- as usual- leaning on the bar with a bottle of cheap booze in his hand and a face that made him look double-dead. While Alastor may not be a fan of Angel Dusts, he had to admit, the double-dead theory was one that Alastor would love to spend his time thinking about in silence with a cup of coffee. Alastor promptly sat on one of the barstools next to the half asleep cat and said in his most cheery and loud voice, knowing it would annoy the feline, “Well good morning, my good man. How are you today?”
His radio feedback made it even more annoying for huskers hungover ears to listen too.
Husk only really gave a half hearted grunt in reply. To which Alastor chuckled and stood up, he did like teasing, annoying, pestering, bugging the cat, but he wasn't that much of an asshole as to talk to the drunk man now. Plus, Husk never really talks that much when he's like this, so it's always more of a one-sided conversation anyway. Alastor never saw the point in “One sided conversations”, how is a conversation one sided, you talk back, thats how a conversation works! You see what I mean here.
Alastor then went over to the couch where Angel was sitting. The spider was looking just as tired and effeminate as ever, no surprise there. And in Alastors own personal opinion, the spider was showing way too much skin for an establishment such as this one. But alas, Alastor is probably quite the biased party when he's asexual himself.
However, before the man can sit down, there is a knock at the door to the hotel. Being the lovely manager that the whole place knows and loves (insert eye roll), Alastor does the gentlemanly thing, and gets it himself. He went to the door and opened it, expecting a down on their luck, no good, nobody sinner, Alastor grew his smile into a more creepy one, opening the door he says in a cheerful and loud radio voice,
“Why hello my dear rotten and filthy sinner! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! It's a pleasure to me-…you” Alastor was about to introduce himself, but was cut off by what he saw. His eyes widened as he finally looked up at the man who was standing there.
“F-Father” Alastor barely manages to compose himself in time, the stutter seeped through despite his best efforts at trying to keep cool and calm. But how could he?! His body is sent into fight or flight mode as he freezes, shaking slightly and cold sweat starts to form at the back of his neck. God. This is not how today was supposed to be going.