Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pentious really should have known it was coming, when he officially moved into the Hazbin Hotel .

Of course, he hadn’t thought about it at all at the time. He’d been too distraught over losing his Egg Boiz. The thought of never having anyone to do his Evil Bidding again had been terrible! Or, well, perhaps Regular Bidding, given he’s supposed to be attempting redemption, and this time for real. Regular Bidding is still useful, and at least they can clean his quarters and bring him things when he’s building and be perfectly sized comfort objects to wrap around when he needs them.

And he’d been delighted to get them back, of course. Vag atha had been quite kind, to return them! And Alastor as well, he supposes. Well, perhaps not kind, but he hadn’t put up a fight about it. Which was fortunate, because although Pentious doesn’t like to admit it, he is perhaps a bit outmatched against the Radio Demon if he does not have his airship at his disposal.

Not that he would say that out loud, of course.

The point being that he had been a bit distracted with the loss of his little Eggies and the resulting complicated trust exercises and bonding through battle. And by the time it had all been over he’d been thoroughly exhausted, and his fatigue hadn’t seemed out of place.

In the morning, though, it’s clear that more than just the stress of losing his Egg Boiz and being thrown into battle without his minions or artillery is affecting him.

It starts when Pentious wakes up and feels… off. Not sick, exactly, he never feels sick, but he does feel strange. Still tired, even after a full night’s sleep. And a little chilly, which is odd given they are in Hell, and he always keeps his room at a minimum of 28.8°C. He’d never liked the cold even when he was alive, which was truly a bother when he hailed from dreary England, but it had gotten worse when he’d died and reformed in this reptilian body.

Pentious yawns and curls up around two of his Egg Boiz, wrapping one up in his arms and another in his coils. Both “ oooh” softly and do nothing at all to protest, used to being constricted. He’s tired, and even the dim lights of his room seem too bright, and everything puts him in a sour mood.

“ Raissse the temperature on the thermossstat,” he orders sleepily to one of the Egg Boiz not acting as comfort objects. “And sssomeone put out that infernal light,” he adds, burying his head under his pillow enough that it comfortably blocks his eyes.

“ You got it, Boss!” two of the Egg Boiz say excitedly. There’s a faint scampering noise as two of them scurry away, and a few clicks as they do his Regular Bidding. He sighs in relief.

“Are you getting up yet, Boss?” a voice says from nearby.

Pentious recoils his head from the pillow long enough to crack a single eye open. It’s difficult; his eyes feel sticky with sleep, and the lid is difficult to lift. But he eventually catches sight of Frank in the gloom, standing next to his head dutifully, already outfitted in his Evil—that is, Regular Minion suit.

“Why would I be getting up?” Pentious asks, scowling at him.

“You slept through breakfast, Boss!” Frank says happily. “It’s almost lunch! And I think Charlie said there’s a redemption thing you’re supposed to do today!”

Pentious jerks upright, scattering the two Egg Boiz he’d been wrapped around and flaring his hood in agitation. “It’s what time?” he yelps, and then yelps again as he moves, because he’s sore everywhere after the fighting yesterday.

“It’s almost lunch!” Frank repeats with a wide smile.

“ How?” Pentious hisses incredulously. As a general rule, he’s an early riser. On a lazy day he might sleep in as late as nine in the morning, but he likes to have daylight to work on his inventions. O r…well, he supposes he won’t be doing that anymore if he’s being redeemed, but now he can get up to be redemptive. Whatever that means.

Either way, sleeping in until almost lunchtime is hardly his style. Perhaps the spider’s— Angel Dust, he reminds himself, the man had pulled him out of a war zone and he supposes that earns him a name. But certainly not his. Invention and genius requires order and schedules.

“You just kept sleeping, Boss!” Frank offers helpfully.

Pentious hadn’t expected an answer, but that’s besides the point. “Fetch my hat and lay out my clothesss!” he orders, as he pushes himself upright and gets his coils beneath himself. He feels heavy and slow and sore everywhere, and his numerous extra eyes down the length of his body are blurry and useless. A few of the eyecaps had been scratched in yesterday’s fracas and limited his vision significantly, which is irritating. He’ll have to see if he can buff them out later.

His Egg Boiz rush to work, fetching Pentious’ shirt, suit jacket, tie and hat. They stack atop one another to help Pentious out of his pajama shirt and into his clothes, and Frank ties his bowtie with a surprising degree of finesse.

He’s ready in minutes, but even the act of dressing is a miserable one. He’s still sore and tired everywhere, and wants nothing so much as to go back to bed. Even his clothes feel strange on his scales, oddly sensitive where the fabric pulls and rubs against them in a scratchy sort of way he can’t stand.

The old rough-and-tumble really hadn’t done him any favors yesterday. Pentious is unused to direct combat without so much as a weapon or a machine to use. His demonic body isn’t exactly designed for it, and he’d looked for alternative ways to protect himself almost as soon as he’d descend to Hell. Even his fights with the Radio Demon had ended differently—mostly because Alastor preferred to assault him with magic. That was painful, but not sore and exhausting like this.

Still, he’d agreed to this redemption effort, and he’s going to do his best to fulfill it. Charlie had spared his life, and it was the first kindness anyone had ever shown him in Hell. This place isn’t so bad, he supposes. He’d even gotten used to the other residents, and Vagatha had even returned his Egg Boiz to him.

So, if he is required to partake in a redemption activity today, he will pull himself together and attend. No matter how sore he might be currently.

He slithers downstairs to attend lunch, and discovers moving is its own set of problems. Stairs are old hat to him by now, even without legs; he’d gotten used to his new method of locomotion well over a hundred years ago. But making his way down the stairs is especially painful today. He’s sore in places he wasn’t aware he had muscles until this moment, from his upper body all the way to the tip of his tail.

By the time he reaches the dining room, he’s exhausted, and would like little more than to curl up under the table and rest. The tablecloth is so long it nearly touches the floor, and it would make a nice, enclosed little cave of darkness if there weren’t so many legs under it from the others sitting.

He resists the temptation, but he does decide to use a chair today. Sitting is always an awkward experience without hips or legs, and they’re never designed for the length of his snake body or his tail. If he tries to sit like someone more human-shaped, it usually means he’s resting directly on his spine, which is always uncomfortable. More often than not, it’s easier to stay upright in a cobra-stance and use his body in place of a chair, coiling his back half as needed.

But today he’s tired, so he twists his coils into an awkward approximation of a sit, choosing a chair without armrests so he can drape his tail off to one side. His tail tip automatically curls around one of the chair legs as support, and he sags a little in relief, letting the chair take most of his weight.

“There you are, Pentious!” Charlie says happily, waving to him from further down the table. “I was just about to come get you!”

“I apologize for my tardinessss,” Pentious says sheepishly. “I didn’t intend to ssssleep in. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I mean, you got the shit kicked outta you yesterday,” Angel Dust points out through a mouthful of food. “And normally you use yer ray guns or big war machines, right?”

“ You aren’t wrong,” Pentious admits. “And I am rather sssore. Ssstill, I apologize for being late.”

Vagatha winces a little. “Sorry if my trust exercise went overboard,” she says. “I might’ve gotten a little carried away yesterday.”

“ A little?” Husk grumbles, before taking a long swig of booze.

The conversation turns to Angel Dust and Vagatha sniping back and forth about yesterday’s unexpected combat exercise. Pentious is too tired to join in, so he turns his attention to the spread of food on the table.

As always since he joined the Hazbin Hotel a few days ago, he’s rather impressed by the meals. Although it appears anyone can use the kitchen facilities to make food, the little housemaid and the Radio Demon are the ones who typically prepare meals for the staff and residents. Niffty’s meals aren’t terrible as long as she doesn’t include the bugs she kills in them, although she does on occasion prepare some truly bizarre repasts that were common in the American nineteen-fifties that Pentious would rather not dwell on too often. And the Radio Demon has a surprising gift with food preparation that Pentious certainly wouldn’t have guessed at from their score of fights in the past, although his fondness for spices is on occasion excessive.

Today’s repast looks as delicious as ever, and since the Radio Demon isn’t present, he can only assume it was prepared by Niffty. As always, there’s plenty for everyone. That in itself is a novelty to Pentious. In Hell, especially as a loner with no affiliations, a next meal is not always guaranteed. Pentious has been grateful in the past for the slowed metabolism that came with his reptilian body, which meant he didn’t need to eat as often as other more humanoid sinners. But it’s nice to have a guaranteed chance at a meal without having to scrape or scrounge or wonder where it will come from.

Despite that, Pentious finds himself uninterested in eating. He puts a little food on his plate, but only manages to nibble at a roll before giving up on food. He doesn’t feel sick to his stomach, exactly, but the thought of eating is just…unappealing, at the moment.

By contrast, he finds himself quite thirsty. An entire pitcher of American sweet tea sits on the table today. Although the thought of cold tea makes the Englishman in him wince, it’s cool and refreshing and not altogether terrible, and he finds himself draining half the pitcher in intervals over the course of the meal.

He picks at the roll on his plate in between sips of sweet tea, shredding it apart without actually putting any of it in his mouth. He’s lost in his own thoughts, wondering how long the redemption exercise will take so that he can go back to be d. It isn’t that he wants to avoid the redemption work, but h e really does feel awful and sore and quite tired from yesterday’s events.

He’s aware that he probably should pay more attention to the conversations of his newfound compatriots, to better learn about them, especially since Charlie had been so insistent that trust was important. But he finds it difficult to pay attention today.

Perhaps this is why hearing his own name comes as a shock. “Pentious?”

“Ah! Yes!” He looks up in alarm, whipping his head this way and that and flaring his hood until he spots the princess staring at him. And everyone else, for that matter. “My apologiessss again, Your Highnesss,” he says hastily. “Were you sssspeaking to me?”

“ You don’t have to call me that, Pen,” Charlie reminds him for the dozenth time. Which simply feels wrong. Sir Pentious may have been enough of a S inner in life to be condemned to Hell, but he was a proper Englishman and addressed the nobility with all due decorum. Unlike the rest of these American heathens.

“ Of courssse, Ma’a—I mean, Charlie,” Pentious says…for now. “Did you have a quessstion for me?”

“I was just curious if you were feeling okay,” Charlie says. “You haven’t eaten much, and you didn’t come down for breakfast…is everything all right? Besides being sore from yesterday.”

Pentious actually hasn’t had the opportunity to explain his unique snake-like metabolism to Charlie yet in the few days he’s been here, so he can understand the confusion. He’s more reptilian than mammal since his death, and while he doesn’t habitually take weeks between meals like many true snakes, every few days isn’t uncommon. A single large meal every two to three days is usually more than enough to satisfy unless he truly exerts himself or has recently died. His joining at mealtimes has mostly been for socialization, and perhaps a drink at most. Even snakes need to hydrate.

He’s about to explain as much, except that Niffty speaks up abruptly, her single eye gleaming. “The Not-Bad-Boy is the wrong color,” she complains.

Pentious blinks, baffled. “I beg your pardon?” he asks, bewildered.

“Actually, yeah.” Vagatha squints at him curiously. “Now that Niffty mentions it, you’re a lighter gray than normal.”

“The yellow in yer hair or whatever it is is a lot paler too,” Angel Dust notes, regarding him curiously. “And your eyes look a little funny.”

Oh.

Oh, no.

The blood can’t exactly drain from his face in a visible way, with all his scales, but Pentious can feel it anyway. He’ s unexpectedly cold, even though he knows he shouldn’t be , because Hell is eternally warm.

Oh, it can’t be that time. Not now! Not after arriving at the Hotel!

Except, it does track, loathe as he is to admit it. He hadn’t expected this to happen for at least another month, but environmental changes can and do affect his biological schedule in unexpected ways. It came upon him months early when he first finished his airship and had a new relatively safe environment to call his own.

And now…between the recent extermination day, multiple territory battles, arriving at the Hotel, officially moving in, and grudgingly coming to accept his newfound hotel-mates…well, it seems that is enough of a change to force the process early. Perhaps the most dreaded, loathsome, horrible part of his demonic form and everything that came with it:

His shed has arrived early.

It makes sense. His symptoms had been masked by feeling poorly from the fight yesterday, but everything lines up. The exhaustion, the desire to hide in a dark cave and rest, the excessive thirst but lack of appetite, the way his clothes don’t feel right against his scales. He’d been too preoccupied to notice his color, but dulled markings and paler eyes were always an early sign of his separating scales. Even his degrading vision, which he’d thought was due to scratch damage from the battle, would be explained by an upcoming shed.

Oh, no no no. This couldn’t happen at a worse time. Shedding is awful. He’s vulnerable and helpless and uncomfortable and, for a time, he’ll be completely blind. There is nothing more dangerous in Hell than a condition that makes one completely and unquestionably at the mercy of others. Especially not when surrounded by people fully willing to take advantage of every exposed weakness.

Pentious needs to get out of here as fast as he can.

“Awww, Pentious!” Charlie says, eyes wide. “Are you feeling sick? Maybe you caught something on the battlefield yesterday?”

“Oh, no,” Pentious says hastily. “I’m sssure it’sss nothing at all like that.”

“ You sure?” Angel Dust asks, frowning. “Maybe ya didn’t pick up a cold, but there was a lotta junk all over and ya rolled in like, half of it.”

“ I didn’t do sssso on purposssse!”

“Not sayin’ ya did,” Angel Dust says, holding a pair of hands up. “But it coulda still hurt ya. Bad needles, rusty metal, poisons…”

“There was so much!” Niffty says. “It was so messy! I tried to clean it up but they just kept making more mess!” Her single eye looks positively haunted.

“I assssure you, I don’t believe that is the issssssue,” Pentious says hastily. The last thing he needs is for the entire lot of them to hover over him with the mistaken impression that he’s badly injured or poisoned. Not when he’s approaching his shed, and can’t afford to let them know about it.

He’s far too vulnerable when he’s shedding. He trusts them more, after yesterday’s trust exercise debacle, but there is trust and there is stupidity. And this…this is not something he can tell people about. Not even Charlie, sweet as she is.

It’s too dangerous to let anyone know of one’s greatest weakness in Hell.

“ I’m afraid I’m jusssst feeling a bit under the weather,” he adds, at their dubious looks. “Assss you correctly pointed out, direct combat issss a bit difficult for me without my minionssss. But don’t worry, Your H—I mean, Charlie! I shall endeavor to be an excellent sssstudent at your redemption sssssession today regardless.”

He can probably manage for that long, at least. A few hours won’t make a meaningful difference, and perhaps he can earn some gratitude for the coming days.

“Oh, no no no!” Charlie says. “I know I said our redemption exercises are mandatory, Pentious, but if you’re not feeling well that’s another story. I don’t want you to make yourself feel worse! Why don’t you take today off and go back to your room to rest for a bit?”

“ Hey!” Angel Dust scowls. “How come he gets a day off for gettin’ his ass kicked and feelin’ a little sick, but when I’m sick I still gotta go?”

“Because you weren’t actually sick, you were faking it,” Vagatha snaps back.

“You don’t know that!”

“ You literally said the word ‘cough,’” Vagatha shoots back stubbornly.

“ I was there, she ain’t wrong,” Husk backs her up bluntly. Niffty giggles. “For a so-called actor you play sick like shit.”

“Tough crowd,” Angel Dust grumbles, crossing both sets of arms.

“ The point is,” Charlie cuts in quickly, trying to stop a fight from escalating, “that if you’re actually not feeling well, it’s okay to take a break and rest up! In fact, that’s a really good lesson for all of us! Self-care is really important.” She gasps. “Oh! Maybe I can write up a lesson plan about that!”

“Drag the boss into that one if you can,” Husk says dryly. “He could probably use it.”

All of them glance around habitually for Alastor, who hasn’t bothered to attend lunch. Which is probably proof enough that he could use a few lessons in caring for himself, or whatever Charlie has in mind.

“If you’re certain,” Pentious hisses, uneasy. He’s worked very hard over the past couple of days to prove he’s not working for the Vee’s anymore, and to show he’s genuinely interested in giving redemption a try. He’d even given up his little Egg Boiz at Vagatha’s insistence, no matter how much it hurt! He doesn’t want to ruin his chances now that he truly is giving it his best shot.

“Absolutely!” Charlie says. “You go ahead and rest. And if you need anything, let us know! And one of us can check on you before dinner, or even bring you something if you like! Oh, what’s your favorite food? Niffty or Alastor can make it, I’m sure! Oh, and—”

Vagatha puts a hand on Charlie’s arm, slowing her excitement. “How about we start by letting him rest,” she says pointedly. “We’ll see where things go from there, okay?”

“Right!”

“I truly appreciate it,” Pentious says, as he slides wearily off his chair and unspools his coils on the floor. “I’m sure the ressst will do me good. Thank you!”

And he slithers off before anyone can argue further with him. He’s absolutely exhausted, still, and it’s a strong temptation to simply slither under the table, wrap himself up in his own coils, and go to sleep. But he knows that’s shed instinct talking now, and he must get somewhere safer and more prepared than a dining room table for the upcoming awful event.

It takes longer than it should to make it back to his room. His Egg Boiz are chasing each other around and tumbling over things and engaging in ridiculous slap flights. But the moment he slithers through and snaps, “Eggsss! Attention!” each one stops what it’s doing and immediately stands upright in a practiced salute.

“Begin fortifying at once, my minionsss!” Pentious barks. “We have a Code Grey!”

“An attack from the Doomsday District?” one of the Egg Boiz asks.

“ No!” Pentious snarls, flaring his hood wide. “The shed isss upon me! We must begin preparing immediately. You two!” He points to two Eggs at random. “Begin consssstruction for a sssafe cave! You, work on heat and humidity.”

“You got it, Boss!” three of the five Eggs say, snapping sharp salutes again before jogging off for their respective tasks. One rushes for the temperature meter for the room while the others begin hunting for supplies for a proper humid hide.

“ And you two have the mossst important job, to ssstart,” Pentious says, whirling on the final two Egg Boiz. “ Defensesss.”

“Uh, against what, Boss?” Frank asks, scratching his shell approximately where a skull would be. “We’re in the hotel, so there’s no weapons to set up.”

“ Againsssst visitorsss,” Pentious says. “None of the other residentsss are to know about my… condition. I don’t want anyone else ssssneaking around or learning about my weaknesssses while the shed issss upon me. You are to find ways to disssstract and deter them. Create defenssses to protect the room. And no one isss to enter without my expressss permission, do you undersssstand?”

“You got it, Boss!” They salute, and immediately scuttle over to the door to begin investigating it.

With his Eggs properly dispatched, Pentious sags in exhaustion. He really should have recognized his shed was coming with how tired he is, in retrospect. Not even good old fashioned fisticuffs left him this winded and out of sorts.

For now, there’s not much else he could attend to or assist with. His Egg Boiz will attend to their duties, and he lacks the energy to assist with any building or additional preparations. For now, he changes back into his pajama shirt, slithers to his circular gear bed and tries to get some rest.

Getting comfortable is difficult. It always is, when he sheds. Normally, he tends to sleep more like the human he was, but when the shed comes he loathes how exposed it makes him feel. For a while he tries to rest on his side, using his pillow, but it feels too open. He eventually wraps his coils around himself instead as he curls into a loose ball, forming a shape his Eggs often called the ‘Boss Cinnamon Roll.’ With his coils curled protectively around his head and shoulders, he feels a little more secure, and eventually drifts off to rest.

He wakes feeling stiff, cold, lethargic, and deeply miserable.

It takes him a while to even properly open his eyes. They feel sticky and gummed up, but now that Pentious knows the shed has arrived, it’s clear it isn’t because of sleep.

Earth snakes don’t have eyelids, instead protecting their eyes with transparent special scales called eye caps that function more like permanent goggles. During the shed, the eye caps also come off, replaced with new ones.

Demonic snakes function more or less the same. Pentious has six lateral eyes and three ventral eyes along the length of his snake body, and an additional four on his hood, and each one comes equipped with no lids and permanent eye caps. But because of his unique physiology that mixes human mammal and reptilian snake, the natural eyes on his face have both eyelids and eye caps. They work a bit like the ‘contact lenses’ he’s heard about in the living world more recently.

This makes shedding for his natural eyes especially difficult, given the cap scales loosen and stick beneath his eyelids most uncomfortably and eventually come off. Before that, the shed fluid often leaks from beneath the eyelids, making them sticky and giving him the illusion of oily-looking tears.

It is a thoroughly unpleasant sensation and he detests it every time it happens.

That is expected, but the rest isn’t. When Pentious finally blearily wrenches his eyes open and raises his head enough to look around his room, it’s to find it in useless disarray. Items are scattered everywhere, his Egg Boiz are running back and forth seemingly on business, and the air does not feel at all warm or humid as he had demanded.

A glance at the thermostat shows that it is indeed 29°C, barely above the standard temperature he prefers. The humidity gauge is equally terrible at a pathetic 49%—not at all high enough to facilitate a reasonable or comfortable shed.

“Why isssn’t this place ready yet?” Pentious snarls, wearily levering himself upright. “I told you, thissss is a Code Grey! You know the parameterssss!”

“Sorry, Boss!” the Egg Boi assigned to climate control says, pausing in his seemingly pointless running around to throw another sharp salute. “The room’s got its own temperature and humidity settings! And we don’t have the equipment to fix it yet ‘cause we just got here!”

Pentious grimaces. Irritating and useless as his Egg Boiz can be, he must grudgingly admit there is not much they could do in this scenario. The Hotel is climate controlled specifically to make it comfortable in Hell, keeping it cooler and drier than the outside world.

He could, perhaps, adjust the temperature by adjusting the settings on the thermostat. It might prove dangerous, and perhaps it would count as defacing hotel property, which might not be considered a redeeming action…but he’s certain if he explained to Charlie that as a snake demon, he needs more heat, she would be accepting. Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Humidity, though…now that proves more difficult. He’s only just moved into the hotel a few days ago, and he hadn’t anticipated his shed to arrive so early. He’s barely moved any equipment out of his flying machine, or even base parts to tinker with. Especially given the recent ultimatum on no weapons.

But he doesn’t have access to a humidifier, or anything to build one with, as a result. He could try steaming out the room with the shower in his attached private bathroom, but he would have to keep it running, and Charlie would almost certainly investigate if he ran the shower for over a week straight. Or worse, the Radio Demon, who Pentious is… still a little bit frightened of, given their most recent battle and resulting apology. Certainly he doesn’t want the man anywhere near him at his most vulnerable.

He could send his Egg Boiz to scavenge or transport parts from his flying machine. He has the materials needed there to facilitate a proper humid environment. But they’d have to take apart some parts of the steampowered apparatus to do so, which would make it inoperable, and he might still need it in an emergency. Plus, Vagatha had been keeping a careful eye on his Egg Boiz, and he’s afraid of her coming to yell at him about building weapons if he sends them off to collect machine parts. It isn’t as though she would know the difference between parts for a humidifier and a cannon.

He looks around miserably, but there’s nothing for him to really work with. It seems the Egg Boiz have already pillaged anything they could find, mostly to build him the hide he’d asked for. Even that is pathetic by comparison: a shoddy blanket fort crafted in one corner, propped up and tied down by spare giant gears and a few pillows scavenged from his mattress.

Just looking at it makes Pentious exhausted. Exhausted, and a little desperate to curl up in even that pathetic cave’s dark confines and go back to sleep.

But needs must! He will address the one thing he can, at least. “You, fetch my toolsss,” Pentious orders, gesturing at one of the Egg Bois. “And you two—go to the kitchen, sssecretly, and obtain the largessst bowls you can find. Bring them back here and fill it with ssssteaming water.”

“You got it, Boss!” All three salute smartly, and two rush out the door while the third scuttles off to collect Pentious’ tools. Pentious slithers over to the thermostat and studies it carefully while waiting for the tools to arrive, before snapping out the name of the tools he needs and holding out an expectant hand.

His Egg Boiz are idiots, but they do know their way around a toolbox. This one hands him what he asks for perfectly and takes it when Pentious is done, ready to hand off the next object.

With the assistance, Pentious is able to pry the casing off the thermostat in record time, exposing the wiring and sensors within. He flares his hood irritably at the relatively modern wiring and scowls. He’s never been fond of the direction technology went in after he’d died—he prefers the elegance and brilliance of his steam-powered mechanical designs rather than all this electricity and artificial intelligence and WiFi and touch-screens.

But he knows his way around it well enough. One had to be acquainted with it in Hell to get anywhere. So it doesn’t take him long to dismantle and rewire the thermostat to his own preferences. The sensor preventing the temperature from rising past a pre-set level is disabled and the cooling unit turned off. Perfect.

He replaces the paneling and immediately cranks the temperature to 32.5°C, and is gratified to immediately hear the heating units in the corners of the room hiss to life. Good. The temperature should match what he needs soon enough, at least.

His Egg Boiz return just as he finishes, each with a massive metal bowl nearly as big as them in their hands. They rush off to the bathroom immediately to fill with steaming hot water, then carry the heavy bowls out carefully and stare, waiting for their next orders.

“Bring them in here,” Pentious says, slithering towards the pathetic little blanket hide that had been prepared for him. He’s exhausted from just the effort of rewiring the thermostat, miserable and chilly, and wants nothing more than to curl up safe and sound in the dark and go back to bed.

Thankfully, although the little cave is miserably inadequate, it is at least cozy and small. Pentious had never been especially claustrophobic in life, and it’s fortunate now. W hen he sheds, his snake instincts all but scream to curl up as tight and enclosed and safe as possible.

The Egg Boiz had prepared the inside well. A soft blanket to sleep on, a small, cylindrical pillow to hold onto. Wrapping his tail around things often made him feel calmer when he was stressed, and shedding time is always stressful. Pentious slithers in, wraps himself around the pillow and burrows his head under the edge of the blanket, and makes himself as small and concealed as possible.

He’s drifting off, but thankfully, the Egg Boiz know the needs of Code Grey enough to manage. They place the steaming bowls in the corners of the hide with him, before backing out and draping another blanket-door entrance closed. In the enclosed space, the heat and steam of the hot water will hopefully produce a small but humid environment.

It’s not ideal. Or even comfortable. But if it lets him get through this shed cycle without anyone catching on…

That’s Pentious’ last thought before his sticky, struggling eyes finally manage to slip closed, and he falls into a weary sleep.

Chapter Text

Pentious starts awake to the sound of knocking.

He blinks blearily—or at least, he tries to. His main eye caps stick again, and it takes some effort to wrench his eyelids open. It’s mostly dark, other than a thin line of light peeking through the makeshift blanket door, making it difficult for even his nocturnal eyes to see much of anything in the gloom.

He feels awful. He’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, but the bowls of water have long since gone cool, meaning his little humid cave isn’t humid at all anymore. He feels stiff and sore and miserable in his own ill-fitting skin and everything is terrible.

He barely remembers what woke him, but he’s already considering ordering his Egg Boiz to refill the bowls with steaming water so he can go back to bed in peace. But before he can, the knocking at the door comes again, and Charlie calls, “Pentious? Is everything okay?”

Pentious’ hood flares in alarm. The little blanket cave isn’t tall enough for him to reach his full upright height if he takes a full cobra stance, but he’s able to push himself up enough with his arms to stick his head out the blanket door. “Tell her I am still asssleep!” he hisses to the nearest of his Egg Boiz. “I do not wish for her to sssee me like thisss!”

“Pentious?” Charlie asks anxiously, knocking again. “It’s dinner time, and you didn’t come down. I wanted to check on you and see how you’re feeling. And I brought you dinner! I hope that’s okay! Pent?”

Pentious retracts his head into his little hide as one of his Eggs rushes to the door to open it. “Oooh!” it greets. “Hi, Princess! Boss is still asleep!”

“Oh! Hi, um, little…egg guy.”

“I’m Frank!” Frank offers happily.

“ Okay, hi, Frank,” Charlie repeats carefully. “And he’s really still sleeping? Is he okay? He didn’t come down with something, did he? I can go get a first aid kit or some medicine if he needs it—”

“Boss doesn’t want you to see him when he doesn’t feel good!” Frank says happily.

Pentious briefly wonders whether or not it’s worth throwing Frank against the wall and breaking his damnable shell. That was not at all what he’d had in mind to communicate! What a useless minion. Though, given he does not have the tools or the materials currently to replicate more of them, it would be wasteful to break one when he only has five left.

Very well then. Frank gets to survive, but he will be soundly lectured later.

The door clicks shut, and Pentious shakes out of his daze enough to realize he’d zoned out and missed the rest of the conversation at the door. But a moment later Frank pulls the blanket door aside, and says, “She’s gone, Boss!”

Pentious pokes his head out again. He finds he’s much too tired to do more than that. “Idiot!” he snaps. “Why did you tell her I wasssn’t feeling good? Did I not ssspecifically instruct you to conceal my condition?”

Frank looks perplexed by this. So do the other four Egg Boiz as they wander over. “But she didn’t know you were shedding, Boss,” one offers. “She just thought you were feeling all beat up after yesterday!”

“Or coming down with a cold,” a second offers.

“Or a fever.”

“Or tetanus.”

“Or drugged from discarded needles.”

“Or—”

“ Enough!” Pentious hisses. “The point, my idiot minionsss, is that I don’t want her or anyone elssse knowing I am weak and vulnerable. It doesssn’t matter if they think it’sss because of a cold or if they know it’sss the shed! If they know I can be attacked, I am in danger! We mussst be prepared!”

“Oooooh!” all five chime excitedly. “Okay, Boss!”

“Charlie brought you dinner, Boss!” Frank adds. He gestures to a tray that had been set down on Pentious’ work table. “Do you want it?”

Pentious eyes it miserably. The meal looks like it would be delicious in normal circumstances—roast meat and vegetables, a buttery roll, and some kind of pastry on the side for dessert. Charlie had even thoughtfully provided drinks—a glass of cool water, and another of the sweet tea he’d nearly drained the pitcher of earlier that day.

But Pentious has no appetite. And it’s more than his usual reptilian metabolism to blame. When the shed comes, he often finds himself completely unable to eat, and the thought of food is repulsive, no matter how good it smells. His shed can last over a week, sometimes more, and he’s usually ravenous by the end of it from missing three to four meals in a row.

“You may eat it or dissspose of it as you pleassse,” he tells them. He pauses, then adds, “But bring me the refreshmentssss. And refill my humidity bowlsss with sssteaming water at once!”

“You got it, Boss!” His Eggs hop to immediately. Two dive into his little humid cave, maneuvering around his twisted pile of coils to retrieve the humidity bowls and carry them out. Two others bring him the glass of water and sweet tea, which Pentious throws back and drains in short order.

It still doesn’t feel like enough. He’s always so thirsty during sheds. “Bring me more water,” he orders irritably, and both Eggs rush off to refill the glasses. He downs those too, and a third set, and a fourth before he’s finally satisfied for the moment.

“ There mussst be a humidity gauge sssomewhere in here,” Pentious adds, when he’s finally finished drinking his fill of water. “Find it and put it in my humid hide. Refill the bowlsss with sssteaming water even if I am sleeping if the gauge drops low. I mussst have the right temperaturessss and humiditiesss.”

After all, maintaining humidity is difficult, but absolutely necessary. Without it, sheds go from being inconvenient and awkward to being downright painful, and he cannot afford that on top of his already precarious and vulnerable situation.

“You got it, Boss!” his Egg Boiz say with another salute.

“ I am going to resssst again,” Pentious says, withdrawing awkwardly back into the little blanket hide and burrowing himself under his own coils. “Do not let anyone in and do not explain why. Come up with a different excuse if you mussst.”

“We’re on it, Boss! You can count on us!”

“ I certainly hope ssso,” Pentious mutters. But then he’s wearily closing his sticky eyes once more and allowing himself to drop into a miserable rest. The last thing he’s aware of is the sensation of Eggs bumping into his coils as they replace the water bowls, and then he’s asleep once more.

Pentious’ sleep that night is fitful and thoroughly miserable.

He’s always exhausted during his sheds. His body is spending most of its precious energy preparing to reject an entire layer of skin, producing the shedding fluid, and readying for the absolute vulnerability in the middle of the cycle. There isn’t much energy to spare elsewhere, especially when Pentious doesn’t eat much to begin with thanks to his reptilian body and has no appetite to eat now. Being cold-blooded is not usually an issue in Hell, but it does mean his body doesn’t generate or burn energy like a mammalian demon, so he has precious little to spare on such an intense bodily process.

But even though he’s tired, sleeping is always difficult at this stage. His scales haven’t started to separate yet, but they have started to dry up and become brittle. Individual scales fold up and catch on his clothes and the blankets, pulling and tugging most uncomfortably and sensitively. His hood grows stiff and less maneuverable and flexible, which is a problem when it flares instinctively when his emotions are heightened. And all fifteen of his eyes are sticky and beginning to blur at the edges as the eye caps prepare to separate.

This isn’t the worst part of the shed by any means. That will come in just a few days, when he’s at his weakest and most vulnerable.

But he is already quite uncomfortable. It’s difficult to find a good position to sleep in. His instincts want him to curl up as tight and hidden as possible to feel safe, but he hates the way his own scales scrape and pull against other scales, like scabs rubbing on scabs. Every time he shifts on the fabric it pulls at his skin in a way that makes him want to shriek in frustration. His humidity runs out so quickly, and even with his Egg Boiz replacing the bowls round the clock on humid shifts, it doesn’t seem to make a difference. He’s thirsty all the time but increasingly afraid to leave his cramped little cave for water.

So while he sleeps, he doesn’t really rest. And by the time morning rolls around, he feels thoroughly miserable. And there’s still at least a week more to deal with.

He’s forced to venture to his bathroom, however briefly, to relieve himself. His image in the mirror as he passes it only makes him feel more awful. If the rest of the residents had noticed color discrepancies yesterday, they are now even more apparent.

Every part of Pentious looks washed out and discolored. His dark gray facial scales are pale enough to match his hat. The sharp black scales on his hood, arms and body length are now a much chalkier dark gray. The yellow ventral scales down his belly are a pale, discolored color instead of their usual vibrancy, and his interior hood looks just as sickly. Even his red eyes are beginning to turn a paler pink.

There really is no denying it. He looks visibly off-color and not himself. Anyone who catches sight of him will know something is wrong immediately.

Can he really maintain this facade for an entire week?

The thought leaves him so anxious that he relieves himself as fast as he can and rushes back to the safe, hidden interior of his miserable little blanket cave. As hides go, it’s absolutely terrible compared to what he’s been used to in the past. But it feels close and concealed, and in the darkness nobody can see what’s wrong with him.

Maybe, if he stays in here, he can convince them he’s just playing a silly game. Her Highness loves silly games! She might think hiding away in a blanket fort is a charming and nonsensical way for him to attain redemption. Somehow.

Even if he would be actively participating in ongoing deception. Which strikes him as, probably, being rather irredeemable an action to participate in willingly.

He moans, burying his head under the nearest blanket and hissing in discomfort when it pulls at his scales. Why must things be so difficult? And why now? Of all the rotten timing…

And as if summoned by that exact thought, a knock on the door sounds bright and cheerful, and Charlie calls, “Good morning, Pentious! I just wanted to check up on you after yesterday!”

Pentious panics. What on Earth is he supposed to say? If he says he’s still not feeling well, after a full day, Charlie will almost certainly insist on seeing him. He can’t afford to be seen; it will be immediately obvious something is wrong. And if people know something is wrong, it will be that much harder to defend himself.

He sticks his head out of his little blanket fort in alarm and calls back to her through the door. “Good morning, my dear! I’m feeling ssso much better after yessssterday!”

“ Oh, I’m so glad to hear it!” Charlie says, and she does sound relieved. “Can I come in?”

The doorknob rattles. The door is locked, but even so, Pentious panics. His hood flares, pulling at his scales uncomfortably, and he hastily throws himself upright into a cobra stance to rush for the door.

“ Oh, no, no, Your Highnesss, I sssimply can’t let you in!” he calls frantically, pressing his hands against the door to hold it shut, just in case. Charlie doesn’t strike him as the type to pick locks or be particularly voyeuristic. But she does seem to worry about her guests, and she does have that cat that turns into a skeleton key, so there is always the chance she could let herself in anyway.

The rattling stops, but Charlie pauses on the other side of the door. “Um, are you sure everything is okay, Pentious?” she asks from the other side. “You sounded a little upset just now?”

Pentious casts about for an excuse, and settles on a lie. It will probably harm his redemption to lie to Charlie, who is quite an unexpected sweetheart for Hell. But he tries to reassure himself that it’s a lie for his own protection, rather than to be cruel. Surely that counts for something.

“ I’m quite fine!” he calls back. “It’ssss simply for your own safety, my dear! I’m in the process of inventing! My creative pursssuits can be a bit dangeroussss for the uninitiated!”

Charlie is silent for a moment. Then, “You’re not building weapons in there, are you?” she asks. “You heard Vaggie’s rule about weapons.”

“ No weaponssss!” Pentious promises, entirely truthfully. “Sssimply… defensssive measuressss! I wasss rather dissspleased with my poor performance in Vagatha’sss trust exercissse. I thought it might be prudent to develop better waysss to protect myssself and my fellow resssidents in the future!”

“Oh!” Charlie’s voice sounds much happier about that. “I’m so happy to hear it! And to hear that trust bonding exercise is helping you get along with the others better! It’s nice to know you want to protect them, too. I’m so proud of you, Pentious! You’re making friends!”

Pentious wouldn’t call them friends exactly. He’d gotten along with them better after that ridiculous mid-city battle, and he certainly is grateful to Angel Dust for pulling him out of the fracas. He really had been thoroughly unprepared for direct combat without his inventions or Egg Boiz.

But they’re more acquaintances at most. He simply no longer expects Husk to spike his drink with poison, or Angel Dust to try and kill him when he’s looking the other direction.

(He is still not entirely clear about Niffty. She seems quite insane).

And he certainly doesn’t trust any of them enough to know about his shed cycle. At worst, they’ll take advantage of his vulnerability to kill him and be rid of him for being such useless baggage to the Hotel. At best, they’ll leave him alive but mock him relentlessly, or use the information about his shed as blackmail.

He is not about to give them the opportunity.

But he’s smart enough not to tell Charlie that either, after the trust exercises debacle. So he merely says, “Yesss, of course! But it isss a bit dangeroussss to come in, at the moment. Lotssss of machinery and planssss and messss. I don’t want you or the others to be injured, Your Highnesssss!”

“That’s kind of you!” Charlie says. “It is breakfast time though. Do you think you could take a break to eat? It’s important to stay healthy!”

Damn it. “ I, ah, already ate, my dear!” Pentious says. “I wasss so excited by my new ideasss I woke up early and had a quick bite to eat before sssettling down to plan. I apologize, but it is unlikely you’ll sssee me mosssst of the day. You know how it issss, when one settles down to creative pursuitssss!”

“Oh,” Charlie says. She sounds a little more crestfallen this time. “Well, I guess that’s okay, as long as you’re taking care of yourself. We don’t have any redemption exercises today, so you do have the free time. Just remember to take breaks!”

“Certainly I shall!” Pentious lies through his teeth. “And don’t worry about mealsss, my dear. If I grow hungry I shall send my little Eggiesss to grab me a bite to eat.”

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything then,” Charlie says. “And remember: no weapons!”

“Of courssse!”

There are sounds of footsteps and humming from the other side as Charlie parts, and Pentious sags in relief. “That was clossse,” he mutters under his breath. But at least he’s bought himself another day, perhaps two, until whenever the next redemption exercise is.

He has also put himself in a bit of a pickle. Now he’ll have to have something to show for his lie later. Something defensive for both himself and the other residents. Something that isn’t weapons.

Perhaps he can build them armor. His own experimentations with armor in the past haven’t worked so well, mostly because it’s difficult to secure to his lower half. His humanoid chest and arms can be protected, of course. But when half of his vital organs are in his coils, and there are no convenient limbs to strap things to or easy ways to tie things on to what is effectively a very long spine, he has no way to protect himself there.

He could probably make things for the others, though. Lightweight armor to take into account extra arms or wings. Niffty is so small he could probably create a full-blown shield for her. There are options.

He’s too tired to think of such things now, though. “Make sure no one else comesss close to my quartersss, and spread that ssstory that I am working on designsss and I am not to be disturbed,” Pentious orders his Egg Boiz.

“ You got it, Boss!” they say with sharp salutes, and all five bobble out of the room with little hup hup hup hup marching sounds.

Pentious ignores them. He locks the door behind them, slithers back into his blanket hide with freshly replaced steaming bowls, idly thinking of armor specifications until he drifts back off into a weary, fitful sleep.

He wakes to a frighteningly close voice that is very familiar and not at all one of his Egg Boiz. “Oh, my. You certainly do look to be having a rough time of it!”

Pentious jerks upright from a fitful sleep, hood flaring and eyes struggling to open. Nobody should be able to get into his room, not even the Eggs, because he’d locked the door. And yet—and yet—

— and yet, as he manages to wrench his gummy, sticking eyes open, it’s to a red blur that slowly comes into focus the more he blinks. Alastor, the Radio Demon, towers over him with that infamous sharp smile, idly holding the blanket door aside with the end of his staff.

Pentious cowers immediately, flattening his hood fully against his neck and curling up as tightly as he can against himself, staring up at the Radio Demon in terror. This is the absolute worst-case scenario he could have possibly anticipated. The Radio Demon, Terror of the Pentagram, Ruler of the Waves, finding Pentious during his shed. The Radio Demon is a deadly opponent in any circumstance, but for him to come across Pentious at his weakest…

“ Pleassse don’t hurt me,” Pentious begs, trembling in his ill-fitting skin. It’s shameful to reduce himself to groveling, but he has no other choice. He stands no chance at all against Alastor without his war machines and weaponry even when he’s otherwise fighting fit. And now… he’s so exhausted that it’s only sheer fear keeping him awake, and he couldn’t protect himself if he tried.

The Radio Demon tilts his head sickeningly to the left, making it crack audibly. “ Hurt you?” he asks, with an almost jovial tone. “Now, why would I do that?”

Pentious stares blearily up at him in bewilderment. “I…I’m…”

“Completely helpless, yes!” Alastor says cheerfully. He idly tosses the edge of the blanket door over one of the spare gears to keep Pentious’ pitiful little hide open, then sets his staff on the floor and leans on it with both hands. He looms over it and down at Pentious, his wicked, unnatural grin wide and gleaming yellow. “You make an absolutely pathetic picture.”

“ But…but then…why wouldn’t you…?” Pentious asks slowly, incredulous. The rule of Hell is to always, always, take advantages where they exist. Finding an opponent sickly or weak is an invitation to kill them and take their things, their territory, their souls. Pentious is easy pickings at the moment. It only makes sense the Radio Demon would take advantage, and yet…

“Where’s the fun in that?” Alastor asks. He examines one set of claws idly, adding, “You’re full of forgettable experiences even at your best. There’s no entertainment in tormenting or killing you when you’re even more boring.”

Pentious swallows. “Oh.”

“ Besides,” Alastor adds, returning his hand to his staff. “I am the facilities manager of this fine establishment, and you are now a resident. Part of my staff duties do include not tormenting the residents unless they’ve betrayed or inconvenienced the Hazbin Hotel. Tell me, my good fellow—have you done either since your little outing?”

“No,” Pentious squeaks. Which is fully the truth—he’s committed himself to redemption now that he’s agreed to try it for real, and not for the Vees infiltration. But he’s desperately hoping the Radio Demon senses that he’s telling the truth, because if the man decides he’s a threat, he’s done for.

“Well, then I see no reason to hurt you,” Alastor says cheerfully.

“Oh,” Pentious says slowly. He blinks at Alastor—his vision is starting to go vaguely blurry at the edges, partly because he’s tired and partly because of the shed. Alastor seems fully content to both stand there and let Pentious take his time, and he doesn’t go away.

“ Why…are you here, then?” Pentious asks eventually. The Radio Demon has him fully cornered in his pathetic little blanket hide, so he can’t glance out towards the door, but he’s fairly sure it had been locked. Then again, he’s seen how the man can travel by shadow—common locks probably mean nothing at all to him.

“Curiosity, my good man!” Alastor says, still sounding quite cheerful. “Your activity has been altogether suspicious for the past few days. As is the activity of your little egg creatures.”

“We haven’t done anything to hurt the hotel,” Pentious protests, although he’s careful to keep his voice neutral and polite and his hood firmly pressed close to his neck to indicate subservience.

“ Oh, I’m quite convinced you’re not still working for Vox,” Alastor says calmly. “You have, however, stolen Hotel property.” His staff lifts from the floor, its end rushing past Pentious’ shoulder and causing him to flinch, but it only taps against one of the cold metal steaming bowls.

“I wasss going to give it back after,” Pentious says. “I needed it.”

“Then why not ask?” Alastor says. This time he folds his arms behind himself, holding his staff in one hand, and leans nearly in half so he can meet Pentious face to face. His gleaming yellow teeth look sharp and deadly, and his red eyes are not at all friendly. “Why bother to steal, my good fellow?”

Pentious quails, trying to retreat a little further into his pathetic blanket cave, but there’s not much room left for him with most of his coils taking up the space. “It…I…I’m not feeling well.”

“Yes, I can see that!”

“I didn’t want people to know I’m not feeling well,” Pentious says. “Surely you can underssstand! Weaknessesss in Hell are deadly! To parade them ssso openly…”

“Is quite a terrible mistake, to be sure!” Alastor agrees sagely, standing upright again.

“Yesss,” Pentious says. “Ssso…if you’re not here to kill me…”

“I’m not.”

“...then could you perhapsss jussst…leave me be?”

“ I suppose I could,” Alastor says. “Of course, if one of the residents is ill, I do have to report it to Charlie. After all, if you’re carrying anything contagious, it could spread to the others. Or if you were made ill on hotel outings and during hotel exercises, it would be quite the little legal scandal. Best to nip it in the bud now—”

“ No!” Pentious yelps. His hood flares wide in a panic, before flattening against his neck again in fear as he realizes he’d just yelled at the Radio Demon while vulnerable.

Alastor doesn’t seem irritated by Pentious’ outburst though. He only raises an amused eyebrow, and his grin seems to grow wider. “Then make a case for me to stay silent,” he offers knowingly.

Pentious’ mind works as fast as it can to come up with an answer. Which is not fast, not compared to his usual level of intelligence. Shedding makes him dull in more ways than just his scale color, and his usual brilliance is reduced to a struggling sluggishness.

But after a moment of thought, he stammers, “I’m not contagioussss. Nor wassss I injured excessively during the trussst exercissse. Ssso there isss no need for Charlie to know. This issss…a purely persssonal issue.”

Alastor’s grin grows, somehow, wider. “ So the little egg creature was telling the truth,” he notes with delight.

“Wh…what?”

“ Oh, I caught one of your little monsters patrolling earlier,” Alastor says offhandedly. “It appears to be the same one that accompanied me before, because he was quite happy to answer my questions when I asked. They call me Other Boss now, did you know? Useful little things you have there, my good man.”

Pentious curses in his head, although he is very careful not to voice his opinions out loud. The Egg Boiz had never transferred alliances and were supposed to be completely loyal to him. But then, they had never been handed off to an Overlord for a day, either. The idiots appear to have imprinted on the Radio Demon, at least in part.

He’ll have to fix that later. Assuming he lives through this.

“Let’s cut to the chase, then,” Alastor says. “Your particular ailment is shedding, is it not?”

Pentious swallows. He tries to find some way to deny it, but he can see no way out. If he lies about being ill, things circle right back to the argument Alastor had made earlier. He’s clearly not fine, so he can’t lie about just being tired when he’s so obviously discolored. And lying to the Radio Demon strikes him as being a rather…fatal decision, anyway.

“Yesss,” Pentious says meekly.

“ Interesting,” Alastor almost purrs, and that alone makes a chill run down Pentious’ long spine. After a moment, Alastor regards him and says, “if that’s the case, then I’m prepared to offer you a Deal, my good man.”

Pentious makes a miserable noise in the back of his throat.

He’s never gotten involved with Deal-makers before. As a man of science, he’d never been particularly interested in the witchcraft of soul ownership and the black magic so prevalent in Hell. But it’s no secret that souls can be bought and sold at a whim in the Pentagram, and while it’s a valuable commodity, giving it away can cause endless problems. Pentious has managed to hold onto his for his entire stay in Hell, and has almost never negotiated with Dealers in a magical sense. He prefers to deal with his problems with money or force.

And the Radio Demon is among the most notable of the Dealing demons. Pentious still remembers the unexpected rise to power of the Radio Demon—the deaths of old Overlords, the screams broadcasted day and night, the emergence of a young soul from the nineteen-thirties from the virtually unknown shadows to among the ranks of the strongest. He had magic, strength, and skill, and anyone with a whit of intelligence knew not to shake his hand or make an agreement with him.

Pentious often dreamed of defeating the Radio Demon and siphoning some degree of his power or reputation. He never once considered making a Deal with the man, no matter what degree of power he could offer.

But Pentious always had the option to flee or avoid being forced into a Deal in the past. He had enough weaponry and mechanical skill to be a credible threat in parts of the Pentagram. If he fought and failed, he would flee or die. But he’d rarely been backed into a corner with no choice before.

He has a feeling that will change today.

“I don’t want to make any Dealsss,” Pentious says. He’s aware that he sounds pathetic, but he doesn’t care. “I jussst want to be left alone.”

“ Ah, but wait until you hear what I have to offer!” Alastor says, with a charming and terrible smile on his face. “You see, I can’t help but notice you seem to be in a rather miserable predicament.”

Pentious stares up at him, dread in his stomach.

“I know a thing or two about reptiles, of course,” Alastor says, leaning forward on his staff again. “There were plenty in the bayous in my day. I can’t help but notice it’s rather dry in here for you, hmm?”

“I didn’t have a chance to ssset up humidifying equipment,” Pentious says defensively. “I wasssn’t supposed to shed so sssoon!”

“Most unfortunate,” Alastor says, with a terrible attempt at sympathy. “I can fix that.”

Pentious can’t help it. His hood flares and his head raises with interest. “Can you?”

“ Of course!” Alastor says. “I am the facilities manager, after all. And anything I do will be a far sight better than these pathetic things.” His staff jabs one of the cold bowls of water next to Pentious again.

“I’ll even throw in my silence,” Alastor adds. “Since your condition does not mean a threat to the hotel or its residents, I can promise not to report it to dear Charlie or her darling sweetheart.”

It all sounds too good to be true. Which probably means it is. “And what would you have in exchange?” Pentious asks suspiciously. “I won’t pay my sssoul for that.”

“ Oh, I don’t want your soul,” Alastor says with a laugh, waving off the idea with a flip of one hand. “I want something much more interesting! Your skin.”

Pentious’ hood presses close as he recoils into himself and shivers. “You want to ssskin me?”

“Goodness, what a terrible imagination you have!” Alastor says. “No, no. I want your shed skin when you’re done with it.”

There’s a moment of long, baffling silence. Finally, bewildered, Pentious asks, “ Why?”

Alastor’s grin is positively sinister. “Oh, I have my reasons, although I daresay you wouldn’t understand them,” he nearly purrs. “You’re an old-fashioned Englishman, are you not? What do you know of voudou?”

Pentious blinks, wincing a little when it pulls at his eyelids. “Some sssort of superstitiousss American magic,” he says slowly.

“ You’re in Hell, my dear fellow,” Alastor says with a laugh. “Surely you don’t doubt the existence of magic after more than a century of living in the middle of it?”

“ No,” Pentious says slowly. “But I don’t underssstand what it hassss to do with my ssskin.”

Alastor grins. “Quite simple, actually! Snakes are quite important to voudou and hoodoo. Snakeskin makes excellent gris gris for conjure. But as you can imagine, it’s rather difficult to come by below the ground.” Alastor waves a hand around at them theatrically. “But I must confess I’m quite curious how well demonic snakeskin works towards the same purpose. How handy to have a demonic snake on hand for experimentation, then!”

Pentious can’t help but stare in bewilderment. “I’ve fought you at leassst twenty timesss,” he says slowly. “If you wanted it ssso badly, why didn’t you really ssskin me after thossse fights?”

Alastor waves a finger at him with a tutting noise. “Terrible for conjure,” he says. “It must be collected without harm to the snake. Which is precisely why I’m willing to pay you for it with proper environmental corrections and secrecy. It will work best willingly given. Well?”

Pentious swallows. It doesn’t… seem like the worst Deal. Alastor doesn’t want his soul, or even something that could come back to bite him later, like power or a favor. Just shed skin, which, if Pentious is being honest, he doesn’t really care about. In his early years, he would use his old eye caps as focal lenses for some of his early attempts at goggles or lasers. But technology has come far enough now that proper glass or plastic works better. These days he usually just burns the shed once he’s done crawling his way out of it.

Still, it is a bit… creepy. And learning Alastor wants to use his skin for some kind of bizarre voudou magic is certainly weird.

“It doessn’t come off all in one piece,” Pentious warns, while he tries to get his sluggish mind to think the Deal through. “Essspecially my upper body and hood. It would be quite patchy.”

Alastor waves that aside. “Not a problem! Collect whatever you can together and I’ll use it as is. Whether it’s one long piece or multiple patches is hardly an issue.”

Still, Pentious hesitates. The Radio Demon is a renowned magic user. Pentious has been on the receiving end of multiple beatings from his shadow tentacles and spawned creatures. Giving him things for more magic seems potentially dangerous.

“What kind of magic do you plan to ussse my ssskin for?” he asks cautiously.

“ I believe that is none of your business, my good man,” Alastor says. He’s still smiling, but it’s sharp and warning.

Pentious fiddles with his hands anxiously. “I don’t want it to be ussssed to hurt me, or my minionsss,” Pentious says. After a moment’s thought, he adds, “Or the other residentsss and ssstaff.”

Alastor’s grin grows less sharp, and more amused. “Thinking of others already, are we? What an adorably laughable attempt towards redemption.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “I can agree to that condition.”

Pentious can’t really think of anything else that could go wrong with getting rid of a shed skin he doesn’t want anyway. And he is desperate for proper conditions. The right humidity would help with the stiffness in his skin already, and it will make the end of the shed so much more comfortable.

“I’ll do it, then,” Pentious says.

“Delightful!” Alastor says. His eyes are gleaming red now, and the little antlers on top of his head start to stretch, branching wider and forming more points. The whole room seems to grow darker.

“ Then to reiterate: I will hold my silence in regards to your condition, and adjust the environmental settings of your room as specified to facilitate a proper shedding cycle. In return, when the shed is complete, you will give every part of shed skin you are able to recover to me. It will not be used in conjure to harm you, your little egg creatures, or any staff or residents of the Hazbin Hotel. Do we have a Deal?”

He holds out his hand, already gleaming with a sickly green magic aura.

Pentious swallows. He’s shaking a little as he reaches out, and his hood is still pressed closed to his neck from fear. But he takes Alastor’s hand, and says, “We have a Deal.”

Green energy bursts from their hands and rolls throughout the room. Strange symbols crawl from where their hands touch, clawing their way up the walls. Alastor’s entire face changes, his eyes taking a frightening sickly green color and his teeth shifting to a bloody red. Strange threads of magic appear everywhere on his person—across his lips, at the corners of his mouth, across his body. His antlers branch further and further, growing for the ceiling with eighteen, nineteen, twenty, more sharp points.

Pentious has seen the Radio Demon grow terrifying and spectacular, changing shape and form in a number of their battles. He’s never seen anything like this. He reflexively tries to pull away in a panic, to withdraw into his little cave and hide, but Alastor’s claws dig into his own like a vice and he can’t pull away.

But then it’s over. Pentious squeezes his eyes shut in a panic, and when he wrenches them open again, sticky and blurry, everything is gone. The lighting is back to normal, the strange symbols are gone, and Alastor looks like his usual self. Their palms crackle for a moment with green energy, and then he lets Pentious go, tucking his arms behind himself as though nothing happened.

“Now then!” he says, as Pentious shakes and cowers and stares at him in disbelief. “Where to begin?” He strides over to the thermostat, adjusting his monocle and glancing at the readout. “Hmm. The temperature seems warm—though perhaps above Hotel specifications.” He gives Pentious a sidelong, knowing look.

Pentious shrinks into himself. “I adjusssted it,” he admits.

“ We will be having a talk about damaging hotel property once this is all over,” Alastor says cheerfully. “But given you are doing it for my valuable demonic snakeskin, I’ll overlook it for now.” He holds out a hand absently as though testing the air. “Far too dry, though, am I correct?”

“Yesss,” Pentiouss says. “Ssseventy-five to eighty percent humidity isss ideal. But given the sssize of the room…”

“Quite difficult to manage,” Alastor says with a nod. “Completely understandable! Hmm.” He glances around the room, spots a corner that’s more or less empty of furniture, and sweeps the stored and discarded tools and parts from Pentious’ inventions aside with a bit of magic. They stack in a different corner.

“ What are you doing?” Pentious asks incredulously. “Thossse are fragile—and I can’t get to my workbench!”

“ Oh, calm down, you won’t be using it anyway while you’re like this,” Alastor says flippantly, waving his complaints aside. “And I need the space. Hmm, yes…I think Louisiana summer will do just fine.”

Before Pentious can ask what on Earth that means, Alastor raises his hand and makes a motion as though digging his fingers into the air. He pulls, and Pentious just barely spots the gleam of sickly green threads in his fingers before the air in the corner of the room seems to collapse. And just like that, like he’s just pulled a sheet off of a hidden invention to reveal it to the world, there’s suddenly a swamp in the corner of Pentious’ bedroom.

“What is this?” Pentious yelps.

“ A bayou,” Alastor says smugly. “I think you’ll find it will do the trick most exceptionally with both your humidity and heat requirements. Come have a look.”

Pentious is tired, but he is admittedly curious as well. He levers himself upright with his arms enough to get his coils beneath him, and slowly slithers over to the far corner and the…the bayou.

Pentious has never seen a bayou before. But the moment he slithers over the threshold from his flooring to the soft grass, he knows it will be exactly what he needs. It’s delightfully humid the moment he passes the border, and warm in a way not even the thermostat could match. There’s a little stream feeding into a stagnant pool of water, soft grass, and several trees to sit under.

“What do you think?” Alastor asks, striding over to stand next to him. “Will it do?”

“It feelsss very lovely,” Pentious says, although he eyes the pool of water suspiciously. “Will anything in there…eat me?”

“Oh, no,” Alastor says, waving the thought aside. “I haven’t populated this little patch with anything dangerous. I can’t have my skin getting eaten, after all. It’s quite safe, I assure you.”

“ It’s nice,” Pentious says, because, well, it is. “ But it feels like the air and temperature doesssn’t go beyond the border, and it’sss so…open.” He glances up at the trees. They provide some cover, but not enough to feel safe.

But Alastor casually reaches out and makes a motion like he’s pulling something out of the ground. And right there, in the middle of the little patch of swamp, a small stony cave rises out of the soft grass. It’s about three times as big as Pentious’ little pathetic blanket hide, and when he slithers inside it to investigate it, it’s just the right size to feel protected and concealed while not being too cramped. The stone is pleasantly warm, enough to warm his belly while not burning it.

“Satisfactory?” Alastor asks, now standing in front of the cave.

“ It’s very nice,” Pentious agrees. “I think thisss will work very well.”

“ Delighted to hear it!” Alastor says. And he really does sound excited. “Do take care of yourself, now. It would be terrible if my skin came out poorly because you didn’t.” His grin looks a little sinister. “Send one of your little egg creatures to me if you need adjustments. Otherwise, I’ll be back to collect my payment once you’re finished.”

And as if he hasn’t a care in the world, he flutters his fingers at Pentious once in a jaunty little wave before vanishing into shadows and slithering out of sight.

Pentious swallows. “He is terrifying,” he mutters to himself. “More now than when we fought twenty timesss.”

But he will admit, when the Radio Demon makes a Deal, he holds to his end with absolute dedication. He’s still not sure how this will turn out, but he knows he’s in a much better position now than he was an hour ago.

He is also exhausted. Between the shed making him weak, and Alastor scaring the bloody Hell out of him, he’s about ready to drop where he stands. The cavern floor will be uncomfortable on its own, though, and his Egg Boiz are still out running interference.

“Jussst a little bit longer,” he mutters to himself. He slithers back to his old blanket cave, ransacks it for blankets and pillows, and hauls them to the interior of the swamp cavern. He barely manages to lay out a bed before his exhaustion takes a hold of him and he curls up into a ball, wrapped around one of his pillows.

Sleep, at least, comes easier this time. He falls into a much more comfortable doze than before, warm and humid and concealed and safe.

Chapter Text

The day passes without further interruption.

Pentious must admit that Alastor is just as true to his Deal-bound word as he is to his room adjustments. Pentious isn’t chased down by Charlie or Vagatha about being ill or potentially causing problems for the Hazbin Hotel. In fact, he isn’t bothered at all for the rest of the day or the night, which gives him plenty of time to rest.

The cave, once properly outfitted with pillows and soft blankets, proves to be an excellent little humid hide. The swamp location is already perfectly warm and humid, but the little cave keeps it trapped around his person. It’s large enough that he can curl up at its back without being easily visible from the opening, which makes him feel as safe and secure as he can given the situation.

Pentious has no idea what kind of magic could possibly pull a swamp out of mid-air. And frankly, he has no interest in pursuing the matter further. It works, and there’s nothing in the little patch of swamp that can hurt him, and that’s what’s important right now. He knows he’s safe, because the Radio Demon might be terrifying, but he has a vested, Deal-bound interest in Pentious’ shed working successfully.

With that in mind, Pentious dozes with a little less anxiety for most of the day and night. He’s still uncomfortable. There’s no way not to be with the shed. But it’s better, and his scales feel less brittle thanks to the humidity, and they don’t pull on his clothes or catch against the blanket fabric or stone as much as they did in the blanket hide.

In the morning, when he wakes, he feels much worse.

As before, he wakes to the sound of knocking at the door. But today, when he tries to open his eyes, he finds it to be much more difficult than before. They’re sticking quite badly, and there’s something crusty at the edges of his eyelids—a bit like sleep, except for the oily, slimy feel. Shed fluid.

Worse, when he finally does get them open, his vision is terribly blurry. It’s like taking vaseline and smearing it across a pair of eyeglasses—there’s some semblance of vision, but it mostly exists in the form of shapes and colors now, not identifiable objects. His field of vision is much narrower, and dark around the edges, with his peripheral vision completely gone.

His lidded eyes aren’t the only ones to suffer. All six of his lateral eyes and all three of his ventral eyes along the length of his snake body are also blurry, and if he twists to look at them, the dusty pink coloration is starting to turn purple. The four eyes in his hood are also suffering from reduced vision, when he spreads it to check.

Here it is, then. The worst part of the shed, the part he dreads the most, when he’s at his most vulnerable. When the shed fluid begins to ooze between the old and new layers, including the old and new eye caps, to facilitate the separation of scales. This is the last time he’ll be able to see at all for several days, and even now, he can’t see much more than blurry shapes a few feet from him.

As always, it’s absolutely terrifying.

The knock at the door again causes him to curl up in a ball in a panic, flaring his hood wide to threaten away would-be attackers. Not that it would be much use. When his eyes are like this, even his minor hypnotism can’t work properly.

“Pentious?” Charlie calls through the door. “Good morning! Just checking on you again!”

Oh, no. Not again. Perhaps he should have asked for more than silence when dealing with Alastor yesterday. He’s sure the man could have come up with a valid excuse for Pentious to remain in his room for a week.

Then again, he’s not sure what else he’d have had to pay for such intervention like that, and he doesn’t want to think on it too much.

“Good morning, my dear!” Pentious calls, slithering to the edge of the cave so that he can call to Charlie. “Quite hard at work in here, nothing at all to worry about!”

“Are…are you okay, Pent? Your voice sounds kind of funny.”

Pentious winces. He’s not sure if it’s because his mouth is dry, or if the bayou does something strange to the acoustics of the room. Either way, he can’t have her asking dangerous questions about his health, or starting to become suspicious. “I’m wearing a welding massssk, my dear!” he calls. “Apologiesss, I’m quite busssy!”

“Oh! Okay. Um, do you want to take a break for breakfast? We’re gathering downstairs now.”

“Don’t worry about me at all! I’ll sssend my little Eggiesss down to fetch me something later. I’m in rather a creative mood at the moment though, Your Highnessss! I mussst chase it while I can.”

“Oh, I love when I feel super creative!” Charlie says excitedly from the other side of the door. “I totally get that! Okay, I’ll leave you alone for now. But don’t forget to eat! It’s really important to stay healthy.”

“Of coursssse, my dear! Thank you for thinking about me.”

“And don’t forget we have a redemption exercise this afternoon!” Charlie continues excitedly. “We’re going to continue with the trust building theme today! It’s mandatory, and it’ll be good for you to take a break. It’s only an hour though, don’t worry! We’re not going on a field trip today.”

“Ah! I…I ssssee,” Pentious says. “I’ll be there, naturally! I wouldn’t misssss it for anything.”

“Great! I’ll see you after lunch then,” Charlie says. There’s a faint sound of footsteps, and then silence.

Safe.

But only for a few more hours. Pentious withdraws into the cave, curling up in the mess of blankets and wrapping his snake coils around one of the longer pillows as he tries to make himself comfortable again. Physically, it’s easier than it was in his blanket hide; his scales aren’t as brittle and don’t pull at the fabric. He still can’t see well, but if he settles down in the back of the cave with his head facing forward, he has a chance to protect himself from intruders if they come for him.

Mentally, he’s anything but comfortable.

What is he supposed to do? The redemption exercises are mandatory! And Pentious has genuinely decided to dedicate himself to redemption and trying to go to Heaven. He’s only participated in a few exercises so far, and some of them are a bit silly, but he’s done his best in all of them.

But he can’t go out there like this. He’s deep in his shed now, and unlike the other day at lunch, there’s simply no way to excuse his current situation. There’s obviously something wrong with him, between his flaky scales, discoloration, and exhaustion. They’ll ask, and they’ll know he’s weak and vulnerable, and…and…

And he might not be entertaining enough for the Radio Demon to kill in this state. But he doesn’t know about the others. Maybe Angel Dust had pulled him out of that battle zone, and he certainly appreciates that. But the lot of them had hated him just that morning earlier. It might be one thing to work with a potential opponent who could fight back, after a fashion. It was another thing entirely to come upon one so completely and utterly vulnerable. It might be too good an opportunity to pass up.

And besides that…besides that, Pentious is quite afraid to leave his room because of the shed itself. He can barely see now. Even if every single person in this hotel had nothing but the best of intentions—and he still has his doubts—the rest of Hell has no such kindness. If they are attacked, or put under siege, or something happens, he has no way to protect himself.

And pathetic as it is, he’s simply frightened of wandering the halls of the Hotel when he can’t see at all. He’s nearly blind now, and he will be fully blind by tomorrow. His instincts want nothing more than for him to hide in an enclosed, dark, safe place and wait until the worst is over. Anything beyond his cave, even the hotel hallways, is too open. The Hotel parlor, where most of the activities take place? Terrifyingly open in far too many directions, with too much open space, and not enough places to hide.

What is he to do? Hide, and draw ire for not conforming to the redemption project? Or go, and draw attention to the fact that he’s weak and vulnerable and so easy to kill, in such an open and inhospitable place?

He twists and turns and frets, trying to make himself comfortable while mulling over the decision. In the end, his exhaustion wins out, and drags him back into a weary sleep before he can come to a conclusion in either direction.

His dreams are miserable and uncomfortable. Shed dreams are much like dreams when sickly, not exactly nightmares but still deeply discomforting and off-putting in a way difficult to describe. He tosses and turns, unable to find a position that soothes his dreams. His nerves are oversensitive from his loosening skin, his senses on high alert to cover for his lack of sight, and every single part of him feels as taut as a fraying wire. He doesn’t feel safe, and curls tighter into himself every time something in his dream bangs or shakes or yells. Things try to attack him, grab him and drag him out of the dark with sharp talons and nasty teeth and hungry eyes, while he scrambles piteously to retreat somewhere close and warm and safe.

“—astard, I can’t believe ya, takin’ a nap when yer supposed ta be at the stupid trust exercise, wait’ll I tell Charlie yer playin’ hooky—”

Something grips his arm. It takes half a second for Pentious’ frayed, oversensitive nerves and alert senses to realize this isn’t a dream, it’s real, and he lurches awake in a blind panic. Something really is trying to drag him out of the cave, yelling and gesturing angrily. Pentious can’t make out what it is; his eyelids are stuck on the eyecaps, and his vision is already blurry. He has the general impression of white, but whatever it is looms over him and screeches angrily.

Danger! His mind screams.

And in a flash, his instincts take over. The closest thing he can reach and more or less make out the shape of is grabbing his arm, and he sinks his fangs into it with a hiss.

“ Ow! Motherfucker, did you bite me?”

The attacker lets go, and so does Pentious, dragging his fangs free and recoiling back into his little cave in desperation. His movements are sluggish and difficult when his scales are flaky like this, but he manages to scoot back until he hits the back of the cave, his snake body thumping against it painfully.

Too late, Pentious realizes his mistake. He’d made a tactical error in his dazed, sleep-addled fear; he has no way to escape, and his attacker is still in front of him, blocking the only exit. He’s trapped, vulnerable, nearly blind, and terrified out of his mind.

But he refuses to go down without making a good showing of it. He’s so tired from even this much of a fight, but he braces his hands against the ground to hold his humanoid half up, flares his hood wide, and opens his mouth as wide as possible to give the loudest warning hiss he can.

“ Fuck, N ew G uy, what the Hell?”

His tongue flicks against his fangs as he makes another warning hiss. He tastes saltiness and iron . Venom and blood . Good. He’d managed to inject something with even that quick bite. Hopefully, he can frighten them off long enough for them to feel the burn of it and decide there was better prey. Venom wasn’t very useful in Hell, and couldn’t hurt most demons enough to kill them. But if Pentious is very lucky, it might just make him not worth their time.

Oh, he hopes it makes him not worth their time. Despite his threat display, he’s shaking like a leaf. This is the worst time to get attacked, and if they decide to press things…

Well, it’s never ended well in the past.

Please go away! Leave me alone!

“ Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the Hell did you do to me? My arm’s burning! Did you poison me? What the fuck, man, what happened to the damn trust exercises?”

Pentious hisses again. He tries to flare his hood wider, but it pulls painfully, the skin not sitting right. His arms are also starting to shake from the effort of holding himself up. Damn it. “ Go away,” he snarls. “Leave me alone!”

“Ow, ow, ow, fuck—Pentious, it’s me, you crazy motherfucker! Angel Dust! Did you turn on us again?”

Angel Dust?

Oh, no.

Pentious blinks hard, but he can still barely make out the figure at the other end of the cave. Everything is so blurry, and they’re huddled now, cursing up a storm. But the voice is familiar, with that notable American city accent, and most of the colors he can make out are white and pink, and—

— and his dazed mind finally catches up with his fight-or-flight fueled adrenaline as he realizes, he’s just attacked Angel Dust.

Panic floods him, but it’s a new kind, not at all related to defending himself. He cowers immediately, lowering himself to his belly and flattening his hood against his neck. “I’m sssorry!” he yelps. “I’m sssorry, I didn’t realize—”

“ Oh, don’t think for a second singing another of Charlie’s sorry songs is gonna fix this! Fuck, this burns!”

“ I’m sssorry,” Pentious repeats, shoving himself back as far as he can and covering his head with his hands. He’s trembling badly now, because he knows he screwed up, irreparably and unforgivably. “I’m sssorry, I didn’t know it wasss you, pleasssse don’t hurt me, pleassse…”

“ Oh, you can hurt me but I can’t hurt you back?” The blurry figure is curling forward now. Pentious can smell sweat and a little bit of fear with every tongue-flick . “ Shit, this is going up my arm, you little bastard—”

“There’s antivenin,” Pentious says feebly, curling up on himself even further. He wishes he could bury into the stone, hide himself away, but there’s no place to go and no place to run. “In a drawer. My Eggssss can get it for you. They’re trained. Pleasssse, I didn’t know it wasss you—pleassse don’t hurt me, pleassse, pleassse, I’m ssssorry…”

“ Fuck,” Angel Dust says, and his voice sounds breathy and strained. “They’re not here. Can you call them?”

“Button,” Pentious says. “Left wall. Sssummons. Pleasssse…”

He’s shaking so badly now it’s a wonder he doesn’t start tearing out of his own skin. He knows Angel Dust is a formidable fighter, and he sounds furious. He didn’t take kindly to Pentious’ betrayal before and he was so willing to kill him instead of forgive him. The only reason he isn’t attacking right now is because of the venom as a distraction, but now that Pentious knows who it is, he really is sorry he’d bitten him. If Angel Dust attacks him now…he’s not sure he would fight back even if he could. He hadn’t intended to hurt the other residents.

He’s doomed. There isn’t a single way he gets out of this in one piece. The absolute worst that could possibly happen, has.

Pentious quivers in a tight ball of coils as he listens to Angel Dust stagger away, splashing through the little bayou creek and stumbling across the floor of Pentious’ room. He must hit the button, because a moment later he comes stumbling back, until he flops against the entrance to the cave again. Any chance Pentious had of escaping is gone, now, not that he’d had much of a chance to begin with.

“H-hey,” Angel Dust says shakily. “Hey. Pent.”

“I’m sssorry,” Pentious says immediately, shivering. “I didn’t mean to. Pleasssse don’t hurt me badly.”

“ I should beat the shit outta ya, but I’m not gonna,” Angel says. He’s panting a little, which is to be expected from Pentious’ venom beginning to take its toll. “Even if this sucks. You know this burns like shit, right?”

“I didn’t know it wasss you,” Pentious says. “I’m sssorry.”

“How’d you not know it was me?” Angel Dust says. “I broke down your door and yelled at you to get yer ass to Charlie’s activity. And when I found ya lazin’ around in this weird-ass dark as fuck swamp cave, you were lookin’ right at me!”

There’s no way to answer that. He wasn’t looking right at Angel Dust, because even if he hadn’t been asleep, he can’t see. But if he admits it now—Angel Dust could get revenge so easily the moment he knows Pentious can’t fight back, especially with those guns of his—

“I’m sssorry,” Pentious says feebly. Breathing is getting a lot harder now. “I’m ssssorry, I’m ssssorry, I’m sssorry—”

“ Okay, fuck, I heard you the first twenty times,” Angel says. “Pent? Pent, slow down. Breathe. What’s going on with you?”

But Pentious can barely hear him now. There’s a rushing noise in his ears, and he’s shaking so badly it hurts, and he’s desperate to impress that he hadn’t meant to and he’s genuinely sorry and please don’t hurt him without letting on he’s vulnerable and—

His blurry, nearly useless vision grows brighter for a moment. Angel Dust curses, and it takes Pentious a moment to realize that he must have shined a light into the cave.

“ Fuck, what’s wrong with you?” Angel asks, but now there’s a note of concern in between his pained pants. “You’re really pale…and your eyes are all cloudy—shit, could you not see me?”

“ Pleasssse don’t hurt me!” Pentious yelps. All he can do now that Angel Dust has caught on is grovel and hope against hope his fellow Sinner doesn’t take advantage.

“ Woah, woah, calm the fuck down,” Angel Dust says. “I’m not gonna hurt ya. Shit. Pent, you gotta breathe—crap. I’m calling Charlie.”

Charlie? Oh, no. Charlie is the only reason he’d even been allowed to begin with—if she learns he’d attacked another resident, after he’d been sworn not to—she’ll never let him stay. She’ll throw him out for breaking the rules too many times, and if he’s thrown out like this now, he’s dead. There’s no question of it.

Or what if her lady love shows up with her? Vagatha had already been willing to kill him for betrayals before. And with that angelic steel spear of hers, there’s no way he’d come back. He’d be double-dead, with no way to protect himself at all. Though at least—at least Vagatha would be honorable enough to end it quickly, and wouldn’t make him suffer like he would if he was thrown out now—

“ Fuck’s sake Pent, ya gotta breathe. C’mon, man, I already said I’m not gonna hurt ya!”

“I’m ssssorry,” Pentious says, over and over. “I’m sssorry. I don’t want to die. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Pleasssse don’t hurt me back—don’t call Charlie—pleasssse, I’m sssorry—”

“ I already texted her, so too late for that. Will you calm down, Pent—Charlie’s gonna help, okay? Probably better than I could.” Angel’s voice hisses. “ Fuck, this really burns. I thought you said you couldn’t fight without your minions?”

Pentious has no answer to that. Venom is useless in the old rough-and-tumble. He can cause his enemy pain, but if they’re close enough to bite, they’re too close. He usually dies shortly thereafter, even if he can leave a parting gift.

That’s hardly the point anyway. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Angel Dust! He’s not fond of his fellow resident, and he finds the man’s job rather gross, but he doesn’t want to fight him anymore! “I’m sssorry,” he repeats, over and over, curling up in a twisting mess of coils and trying hard to hide his head and torso beneath his own snake bulk for meager protection.

“Okay. It’s okay, Pent, I know you’re sorry. You don’t gotta keep telling me.”

Pentious keeps telling him anyway, whenever he can catch enough breath to hiss out the words. The rushing, ringing noise in his head is getting louder, and he’s so scared he’s going to die, or worse. He can barely make out Angel’s voice at all anymore, and his many eyes aren’t capable of making out much more than a blur of light and shadow and color. He trembles violently and waits for the harsh words and the weapons to come.

“—called us—”

“I did…he bit me, said you got—”

“—Ooooh, here it is! Which arm?”

“This one—”

“All better!”

“ What happened?”

“Thanks, little guy—Charlie! Thank fuck—Pent—”

“—understand, I thought you were getting alo—”

“—ean to freak him out—”

“Pentious?”

“Woah, Charlie, careful! He’ll bite if ya startle him.”

“That’s okay. Frank has the antivenin, right? Pentious?”

The voice is very close, and very familiar. Soft, gentle, feminine, musical.

“ Pentious, I’m going to touch you, okay? Angel says he thinks you can’t see us very well right now, so I don’t want to scare you. But I do want to help you, okay? I’m touching you— now.”

Something touches the coils he has curled protectively around his head, right between two of his left lateral eyes. Pentious jerks with a start, recoiling away and flaring his hood defensively with a hiss.

“ Woah! Easy. Easy, Pentious. Shhh, everything is okay. It’s just me, Charlie. I’m just here to help, okay?”

Charlie? Charlie is here— yes. That makes sense. His main eyes are sticking terribly, and he struggles to open them between the old eyecaps, the leaking shed fluid and stuck tears. But he can make out more reds and golds in front of him at least.

“Your…Highness?” Pentious gasps.

“ That’s me,” Charlie says. She moves somehow, but he can’t make out what she’s trying to do, and he flinches back in a panic. “Oops! Sorry. I just waved. Here, I’m going to reach out to you to take your hand, is that okay? I’m taking your hand now.”

Sure enough, her hand gently folds over his, where he’s braced it against the stone of the cave to support himself. It’s warm and kind and soft, and doesn’t try to hurt him at all.

“I’m ssssorry!” he yelps. “I’m so sssorry, I didn’t mean to hurt Angel Dussst, I know I broke the rulessss, pleasssse don’t hurt me! Vagatha needn’t drive me out or kill me, I promisssse I’ll go away as sssoon as thissss is over, jussst, pleasssse, don’t throw me out yet, I’ll do anything—”

“Pentious!”

“ I didn’t wish to hurt Angel Dussst, I’m sssorry, I didn’t know it wasss him—pleassse, jussst give me enough time to be done, I’ll die if you put me out there now and perhapssss I dessserve it for what I did but I’m sssorry—”

“Pentious!”

“ I’m sssorry,” he says, lowering his belly to the floor again in a full grovel, shaking like a leaf. “I’m ssssorry, I’m sssorry, I’m sssorry—”

“Pentious!”

He finds himself lifted up with surprising strength, hands hooked under his arms. He flinches, hood pressed tight to his neck, struggling to squeeze his eyes shut out of pure instinct. This is it, the retribution, the punishment for attacking a fellow redemptor—

But instead he finds himself wrapped in a hug, with his head resting on someone’s shoulder. His face touches long hair that smells like sunshine and flowers—Charlie. Hands rest on his back, rubbing up and down gently, which feels strange but oddly soothing to his highly sensitive skin. When he scrabbles weakly for purchase, his hands manage to hook onto her hotel manager’s jacket, which is soft and comfortable, and she doesn’t shake him off.

“Easy there, Pent,” she says soothingly. “Ssssh, everything is okay. You’re not getting thrown out, or hurt, or killed. Okay? You don’t have to worry. Everything is okay.”

“B-but I hurt—”

“It’s okay, Pent,” Angel Dust says, from somewhere close by. “I get that it was an accident. And I know yer sorry and ya didn’t mean it. I forgive ya.”

“ O-oh,” Pentious whimpers. Something about that feels very strange. Everything about this feels very strange. Why aren’t they killing him? Why aren’t they tormenting him? They know he’s weak. That he’s vulnerable. They have the right and the opportunity to punish him. Why are they not?

He doesn’t understand. His head is swimming, and he can’t get enough air, and he feels so exposed, and he doesn’t like any of it.

“Can you try to breathe for me, Pentious?” she asks. “I don’t know if you understand it, but you’re hyperventilating right now. Let’s try to breathe slower together, okay? Angel can even count for us.”

“I can…try,” Pentious says, bewildered.

And that’s exactly what they do. And it seems absolutely ridiculous, to need help with something as simple as breathing. Or that he could be bad at it. He’s done it his entire life and in his death! But taking deep breaths is a struggle, and he can’t keep time with Angel Dust’s counting or Charlie’s exaggerated breaths against him at all.

“That’s alright, Pent,” Charlie says, every time he messes up. “You’re trying, that’s really good. Let’s try again. Ready? Breathe with me.”

Pentious has no idea how long it takes. How long he clings to Charlie’s arms and rests his head on her shoulder and tries very hard to breathe properly. But Charlie is incredibly patient with him, and at last his breathing starts to come a little slower and more naturally.

“ There you go,” Charlie says, and she sounds so proud of him for doing something as simple as breathing. “ Just like that! Good job, Pentious.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Pentious says meekly.

“That’s not true at all! Panic attacks are scary and you did a good job letting us help you with it,” Charlie says, as bright and optimistic as ever. “And Angel Dust, you did such a good job too! Thanks for helping us count and keeping time.”

“Ah…right. Sure, Charlie.”

A panic attack? Is that what that was? How unsettling and deeply embarrassing. He shudders. “I apologize for lossssing my composure,” Pentious says. “And for this rather ungentlemanlike posssition,” he adds, realizing belatedly that he’s still flopped against Charlie’s front.

“It’s just a hug, it’s not ‘ungentlemanlike,’” Charlie says. “But we can stop if you’re not comfortable.”

“And if you can let go of my leg that’d be great,” Angel Dust adds.

“I...I beg your pardon?”

“You wrapped my ankle,” Angel says. “When you were havin’ yer panic attack. Didn’t exactly wanna tell ya ta fuck off in the middle, but uh…”

There’s a faint tug at his tail, and Pentious realizes belatedly that his coils had wrapped whatever nearby object they could find for comfort. Having an anchor of some kind always made him feel more secure. He thought he’d grabbed one of the pillows, but apparently not.

“I’m ssssorry,” Pentious hisses in embarrassment, pushing away from Charlie and releasing Angel Dust at the same time. He doesn’t have much strength to maintain his cobra stance for long; staying upright is tiresome during his shed. But he manages to at least back away from the two of them and curl securely around one of his larger pillows instead.

“Do you always wrap around stuff?” Angel asks. “Don’t see ya doin’ that downstairs.”

“It’sss comfortable,” Pentious mutters, even as his tail squeezes the life out of a defenseless pillow. “I’m sssorry for biting you—did my Eggsss administer the antivenin? Are you feeling better?”

“Frank gave it to me,” Angel says. “He’s sittin’ outside.”

“Hi, Boss!” Frank calls from the entrance to the cave.

“Feels better now, or at least it’s not burnin’. Kinda sore where you bit me but I’m sure that’ll go away in a day,” Angel says. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I startled ya. You got a million eyes, I thought you were lookin’ right at me.”

“I’m sssorry,” Pentious mumbles. “I didn’t realize it wassss you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you apologized about a million times. If you say sorry again I’m gonna punch ya.”

“No punching,” Charlie says firmly. And then more gently, “But Pentious…something’s obviously not right. Are you sick? Why didn’t you tell us? How come you can’t see?”

Pentious is afraid to even begin to explain. He never has, before, not until the Radio Demon barged in just the other day and demanded information. Even if they’re here now, and they can see how weak and vulnerable he is, he can’t quite bring himself to admit any sort of weakness.

Fortunately, or perhaps not, his imbecilic Egg Boiz take the problem right out of his hands. “Oh,” Frank says. “Boss is shedding!”

“Shedding?”

Pentious flinches at the incredulous voices, and shrinks further into his blankets. “Pleassse don’t hurt me,” he begs.

“ Nobody is going to hurt you, Pentious,” Charlie promises. “We’re a family here at the Hazbin Hotel! We want to take care of you, not hurt you.”

“Be kinda a dick move ta beat a guy up when he can’t even see,” Angel adds, almost off-handedly. “Probably not really a redeemin’ thing to do.”

“But…but I’m…” Pentious’ hood is pressed so close to his neck that the scales pull at each other. “I can’t fight back. I can’t protect mysssself like thissss. It’ssss the perfect time to kill me. Esssspecially if I’ve broken the rulesss…”

“ We don’t use murder as punishment here,” Charlie says firmly. “If you break the rules, then we’ll just work with you to better understand them. But we don’t kill people for making mistakes.”

“ But I hurt another resssident—Vagatha made it quite clear what would happen to me if I did that again!”

“You didn’t know it was me, right?” Angel Dust says. “How many times has somebody grabbed you when this was goin’ on?”

“A…a few timesss,” Pentious admits weakly.

“And what happened after?”

“I died,” Pentious says, and ducks his head a little at Charlie’s sympathetic gasp.

But it’s true. He’s been found during a shed before, and it never ends well. He’s weak and he can’t see, and if people can get their hands on him, it’s usually the end. More than a few rivals and enemies had found his hidey-holes over the years and took advantage of his weakness to torment and kill him for their own entertainment and revenge. His greatest fear of all is a shed happening in the middle of an Extermination, because if an Exorcist finds him when he’s blind and helpless, he won’t stand a chance at all.

(It had happened twice . The shed had come during an Extermination in nineteen-nineteen, and again in nineteen-forty-eight. Both times, he’d taken his own life with one of his inventions rather than risk the chance of being taken by an angel. His shed had taken almost twice as long and had been excruciatingly painful as a consequence after that, once he’d revived, but it had by far been the better option).

(He doesn’t tell the Princess about it).

“So, okay. Probably a good reason to bite first and ask questions later,” Angel says. “I’m sorry I grabbed ya without warning. I thought you were just playin’ hooky from Charlie’s exercise and takin’ a nap up here, not sick or shedding or whatever this is.”

Pentious’ hood flares wide in alarm. “The exercise! I’m ssssorry, I completely forgot—”

“It’s okay, Pentious,” Charlie says. “I understand you’re not feeling very good. I wish you told me earlier, I would have excused you from it instead of bothering you to come.” Something pats Pentious’ hand, but to his credit, he only twitches a little in surprise. “And I’m so sorry you didn’t feel safe enough to come out of your room! But I can totally understand if people hurt you like this before.”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Pentious says.

“ I know you didn’t,” Charlie reassures him. “And I want you to know, you’re totally safe in the Hotel, okay? Nobody here is going to try and hurt you. And we won’t let anyone from outside hurt you, either. You’re safe here with us, and you’re not going to be thrown out or punished for being sick.”

“Smiles’d eat anybody that attacked anyway,” Angel offers pragmatically.

“Angel!”

“What? He would!”

“ We don’t want to encourage Alastor to eat people,” Charlie says. “And he won’t eat you either, Pentious,” she adds, patting his hand reassuringly.

Of that, at least, Pentious is quite confident. His Deal, and Alastor’s desire for his shed skin, sees to that if nothing else.

“Thank you, my dear,” he says, turning his hand over to grasp hers. “I appreciate your kindnessss.” More than she probably realizes. If he had any liquid in him for tears, he’d probably be shedding those too at this very moment.

Charlie pats his hand again. “And I’d like to help you, too,” she adds. “I know you’re not feeling well, so for starters, you don’t have to worry about coming to exercises until you’re better, okay? Just work on feeling better.”

“ Oh. Thank you,” Pentious says, relieved. Not having to leave the safety of his room—or even this lovely little cave Alastor had made for him—will help enormously with his shed. “That will help quite a lot.”

“I’m glad! And what are some other ways we can help you?” Charlie asks. “I don’t really know much about shedding, so I’m not really sure what to do. Your color looks really off, though, you’re very pale. Is that normal?”

“My sssscales are coming off,” Pentious says. “Right now it’sss being ssseparated by a special shed fluid. It causesss the dissscoloration. It’s why I can’t sssee very well, either.”

“Is that the stuff on your eyes?” Angel asks.

“Hmm?”

“It’s—you got this kinda crusty stuff on your eyes,” Angel explains.

“Oh. Yesss, that’s probably it,” Pentious says, wilting a little into his blankets self-consciously. “Snakessss aren’t ssssupposed to have eyelidsss. My demonic form is a mix of mammal and reptile and thingssss don’t always go together right. The fluid tendsss to leak.”

“Poor Pentious!” Charlie says. “Wait, I’ve got some tissues—do you want help getting it off?”

Pentious hopes his flush of embarrassment can’t show when his skin is like this. “You really don’t need to bother, Your Highnessss—”

“No, it’s okay, really! I just want to help you feel more comfortable,” Charlie says. “Can I touch your face?”

Bewildered and still embarrassed, and still a little afraid to push too hard and cross any lines, Pentious nods slowly. He flinches a little in surprise when Charlie’s hand slips under his chin, but her touch is gentle as she carefully cleans around his eyes with a soft tissue. To his surprise, it’s actually a little easier to blink when she’s done, with his eyelids getting stuck on the loosening eye caps a bit less.

“ Thank you,” Pentious says in relief. “That doessss feel better.”

“I’m so happy I can help!” Charlie says. “What else can we do? Oh! When I’m sick I love soup or tea, would those help?”

“The thought is appreciated, but I can’t eat like thisss,” Pentious admits.

“ What? At all? How long does this last?”

“Ah…sssomewhere between a week to a week and a half, mossstly.”

“ What? You can’t go that long without eating!” Charlie yelps. “That’s not healthy!”

“ It’sss normal for me,” Pentious says. “I’m sssorry, I didn’t have a chance to mention it before, but…I am a ssssnake demon. I don’t eat asss often as the average Sssinner. Once every two or three dayssss is enough for me.”

“So only skipping what, five meals at the most?” Angel counts quickly. “Still sucks, but not as bad as starvin’ for a week and a half on three meals a day.”

“ It still doesn’t sound very good,” Charlie frets. “You can’t eat at all?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite,” Pentious admits. “Digesting is difficult like thisss. I get thirsssty…that’s about it.” He needed water to shed properly and stay humid, but anything more complex sapped him of more energy than he had when he spent so much on shedding.

“ Okay, well we can help with that, right?” Charlie says. “It’s so important to stay hydrated when you’re sick!” A shuffling motion. “I don’t see any water here, though. When’s the last time you drank anything?”

“Um…” In truth, Pentious can’t remember. He’s spent most of his time sleeping.

“Oh, that’s not good at all! Frank?”

“Yeah, Boss Lady?”

“You can just call me Charlie—and can you get Pentious a pitcher of water?”

“ On it!” The clack of a hand against eggshell, and the tottering sounds of one of Pentious’ minions bouncing out of the room with a determined hup-hup-hup!

“While Frank gets you some water, what else do we need to know?” Charlie asks, squeezing his hand.

Pentious is growing weary now. He’s spent a lot of energy he doesn’t really have on this discussion. But he does his best to answer. “I need warmth and humidity.”

“That explains why my fluff is sticking to me,” Angel Dust grumbles. “And why you’re holing up in a swamp cave.”

“It’sss a very nice cave!” Pentious defends.

“ And I’m not going to ask how you got a swamp cave in here, although I think I have the answer,” Charlie says. “But that’s not important right now! I’ll just be having a discussion with my hotelier later.” She takes a deep breath. “But, okay! So you’ll be spending your time in here. Is there anything else we can do to help you?”

“To be left alone,” Pentious says honestly. “I…I sssspend most of it asssleep. It’sss…a tiring process.”

“ Aw, poor Pent!” Charlie squeezes his hand gently again. “We can let you rest soon. You do look tired. How do you feel right now?”

“Better than before,” he mutters sleepily. “I wasss afraid you’d throw me out…I’d die if I got thrown out…”

“ I would never do that,” Charlie tells him firmly. “I hope you understand that now.”

“I do. I appreciate it more than you know.”

“What else? Can we help you be more comfortable at all? I’m sure this cave is um…really nice, but it does seem a little…”

“Stinky,” Angel supplies, when Charlie pauses to hunt for a tactical word. “Tight. Rocky. Sharp. Dark.”

“Tight and dark isss nice,” Pentious says. “Safe. Warm and humid and hidden.”

“So this kind of place makes you comfortable?” Charlie presses.

“Mostly.” Pentious frowns. “Thisss part of the shed isss uncomfortable. The ssskin is sensitive and the ssscales pull.” He flares his hood in demonstration, which won’t spread as wide as usual. “Can’t sssee. Getsss worse.”

“Maybe some nice textures?” Charlie offers. “We can bring you some soft blankets.”

“Maybe somethin’ soft to wrap around, too,” Angel points out. Something that feels suspiciously like the tip of a boot pokes Pentious in the tail, which tightens reflexively on its current pillow.

“That’s a great idea, Angel! How does that sound, Pent?”

“ Nice,” Pentious admits sleepily. “Sssoft is very nice.”

“Okay,” Charlie says, setting his hand down gently and patting it once. “You go ahead and rest a little bit. We’ll get you some soft things, and Frank is getting your water, okay? We’ll take care of you.”

“And uh…how do we wake you up without gettin’ bitten again?” Angel Dust asks.

“Eggssss will show you,” Pentious says. He’s drifting now, struggling to stay focused. There’s a special tap his minions use, but he’s too tired to explain it right now.

“Okay. We’ll ask Frank when he gets back. You go ahead and rest, Pentious,” Charlie says soothingly. “I promise, everything is going to be okay.”

To his sleepy astonishment, Pentious finds he actually believes her.

Chapter Text

Pentious isn’t sure how long he rests, but his doze is certainly less anxious than before. He’s spent his entire afterlife hiding his sheds from the entirety of Hell, and he hadn’t realized until that moment just how much stress and discomfort it caused him. But Charlie and Angel Dust knowing, and not taking advantage of him—even offering ways to help, with no strings attached—it brings more relief than he’d ever expected.

For the first time in nearly a century, his mind isn’t buzzing as he falls into sleep during a shed.

But eventually he wakes to the sensation of a gentle tap-tap-tap against his tail. He recognizes the pattern and stirs awake with a groan, trying to blink his main eyes open. They’re sticking again, and even when he does manage to peel them open, his vision is still mostly blotches of color and light.

But he can make out red, gold, white, and pink, at least. Enough to recognize Charlie and Angel Dust, even before Charlie says, “Hi, Pent! We’re back!”

“How long has it been?” Pentious murmurs sleepily.

“Only about half an hour,” Charlie says. “But we got you some things! Here, Frank got you some water, let’s have you drink first.”

Charlie helpfully pours him a glass as Pentious tries to push himself upright from where he’s coiled on his belly. His arms protest immediately; he hasn’t had much chance to regain his strength.

“Geez, this thing really does a number on ya, huh?” Angel Dust says. “Want me to help you sit up?”

“Um. Please.” Pentious hates that he looks so weak, but, well, they’ve already seen him at his worst. And he really does need help getting up so that he can drink.

“Alright, I’m touchin’ ya now, don’t bite me.”

“ I really am sssorry about that—”

“I know, I know! You said it a thousand times. I was jokin’,” Angel Dust says. And he doesn’t sound upset, at least, nor is he especially rough when he helps Pentious up and leans him against the wall. “Is this okay? I’m uh, actually not sure how you sit, you don’t have an ass?”

“Angel!” Charlie chides. “That’s not very nice.”

“Thisss is fine,” Pentious interrupts. He’s sitting on his serpentine spine in a mockery of actual sitting, but it’s difficult to rest his back against anything to sit up otherwise. The rest of his coils curl under him for support, dragging the pillow they’d wrapped with them in the process.

“If you’re sure,” Angel says. And then he grunts, presumably from Charlie prodding him somehow, and adds, “Sorry about asking about your non-existent ass.”

“Angel!”

“ It’s quite all right, my dear,” Pentious says. “I’m not exactly unaccustomed to people asssking about my anatomy.” Hell was full of all sorts, but most of them still followed the general humanoid model. It wasn’t exactly designed for demons like him, outside of the anatomical average.

“ As long as he’s not being invasive,” Charlie says. “And he can ask later, when you’re feeling better. Here, I poured you some water.” She takes his hands gently and wraps them around the glass so that he doesn’t have to attempt to reach for it mostly blind.

“Thank you, dear.” The water is heavenly, and as always, he only realizes just how thirsty he is once it touches his tongue. He downs the entire glass, and then a second and a third, as Charlie refills and hands it off for him time and time again.

“ Somebody’s thirsty,” Angel Dust comments, when Charlie empties the last of the pitcher into Pentious’ glass.

“Shedding takessss a lot of water,” Pentious says, in between gulps. “For the fluid—and to keep the ssscales flexible.”

“What happens if you don’t have enough?” Charlie asks.

Pentious winces. “It…doesssn’t come off right.”

In truth, it’s much more complex than that. Stuck shed is a nightmare. It hurts, it pulls at the skin, and it can cause all sorts of other problems. In the past Pentious has lost circulation and gone necrotic at his tail and on his arms and fingers and hood, leading to losing entire chunks of flesh or even whole fingers until he next regenerated. It had been so bad in his early years that some parts of his hood had never come back, forming the ugly notches most people saw today when he spread it, and his tail used to be longer. And for especially sensitive areas, like his eyes, the cap scales not coming off properly could mess up his vision and cause excruciating pain.

It’s been an unfortunate but unavoidable consequence of living in Hell. If he doesn’t have a safe place to stay with all the proper conditions, he suffers for the results. There are still some places from his last sheds on his back that never came off properly, and those still pull uncomfortably and had most likely caused nerve damage, because he didn’t feel things correctly there.

He doesn’t go into details, but something must show on his face, because Charlie says, “Oh, gosh, that sounds terrible! Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you stay nice and hydrated.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Pentious says. “That doessss help a lot.”

“Are you still thirsty?”

“Not now,” Pentious says. “I’d rather like to return to bed, if you don’t mind…” Even sitting up to drink water has been an exhausting process. The shed saps him of everything, and he can’t eat food to replenish his energy.

“Oh! Sure! But we brought you some other stuff first. Here, feel this!”

Charlie plucks the glass away from his hand and places something else in it instead. When he squeezes, he’s surprised by the exquisitely soft sensation of fabric, which feels lovely on his sensitive skin. “Goodnesssss, what isss this?”

“ It’s a blanket! It’s a lot softer than the ones you have here. I brought a couple, don’t they feel so good?” Charlie squeals excitedly. “I love going to bed with these and snuggling into them and feeling like I’m floating on a cloud, it’s so good!”

“And you’re okay with allowing me to borrow them? They’ll get quite humid…”

“It’s okay. I can wash them after, and I really want you to feel safe and comfortable!”

“I broughtcha this too,” Angel Dust adds, taking Pentious’ hand and pressing it against something else. It’s not quite as soft, but it is comfortably firm and, from the feel of it, quite large. “It’s a body pillow, for someone as tall as me—so it should work for you too. I use it to keep my spine from gettin’ all fucked up after a long day at the studio when I’m sleepin’. But I figured maybe it’d let ya be more comfortable curlin’ around somethin’ that’s not a little throw pillow.”

“Oh!” Pentious re-evaluates by feel, and has to admit it would probably serve quite well for just that. “The thought isss greatly appreciated.”

“If you come over here for just a second, Pent, we’ll set up your spot with your new things, how’s that sound?”

Pentious obligingly allows Charlie to take him by the arm and help him slither a little farther down the cave, towards the exit. Based on the sounds of the bustle behind him, Angel Dust is setting up the blankets and laying out the pillow. Pentious waits, leaning heavily on Charlie to stay upright.

“Poor Pentious,” Charlie says, and she doesn’t seem to mind taking his weight at all. “This takes a lot out of you, doesn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this low before.”

In truth Pentious does tend to elevate himself higher with a more pronounced cobra stance. At the very least, he doesn’t like to sit on his three ventral eyes if he can help it. And if he’s truly trying to be impressive or intimidating, he can hold his posture high enough to tower over even Angel Dust.

But that takes muscle strength he doesn’t have right now, and currently he’s barely managing to keep even his human torso from the floor. All three of his ventral eyes are currently pressed into the stone, but he could barely see out of them to begin with, so it hardly matters.

“It’s tiring,” is all he says. “But I do appreciate your most graciousss assistance, Your Highness. I didn’t expect such kindnessss or underssstanding…”

Charlie keeps supporting him, but offers him a side hug. “I’m sure it’s been pretty scary in the past, living in Hell with something like this,” she says. “But I promise, as long as you’re with us, we’ll make sure you’re taken care of. And when you get to Heaven, I’m sure it’ll be even better!”

When he gets to Heaven. He’s barely been here a week and she’s already talking with such surety of his redemption. She truly is different from the rest of Hell.

“There!” Angel Dust says. “All set, New Guy. Come feel out your new digs.”

Pentious slithers forward carefully, allowing Charlie to guide him by the arm. He can feel the moment he crosses onto the new soft blanket, because his sensitive skin practically weeps in relief. It feels so much better compared to his other blankets, but the warmth of the stone cave still rises up neatly through them.

“Lovely,” Pentious says, lowering himself to his belly on the blanket and lazily stretching. Charlie is right; it does feel nice to snuggle down into it.

His questing tail finds the provided ‘body-pillow’ and immediately coils around it, squeezing tight. It’s the perfect size to account for the full length of his snake body. There’s even enough room left over for him to wrap his arms around it, and Pentious immediately understands what Angel meant by it helping with one’s spine, because his more human spine settles perfectly straight against it.

One of the unique curses of Pentious’ half-mammal, half-reptile body is that his snake half is enormously flexible, but his human half isn’t, and it isn’t exactly designed for laying on the floor on one’s belly like his snake coils are. It often leaves him with a bad lower back, especially after a shed. This thing satisfies both his human spine’s need to be straight and his snake half’s desire to coil, and it is delightful.

“I want one of thesssse,” Pentious murmurs, snuggling further into it. “Thissss issss wonderful.”

Angel Dust cackles. “I can getcha one of your own, but don’t have too much fun with mine, got me?”

“ Angel!” Charlie says. Based on both of their tones, Pentious assumes this indicates some kind of lewd joke that she’s admonishing Angel for, but he’s too tired to try and figure out what.

Charlie spreads the second soft blanket over Pentious, and he is in sensory Heaven even if he’s still in Hell. His oversensitive scales prefer the softness and the warmth, and the rest of his body isn’t aching thanks to the support from the pillow, he’s not feeling thirsty and he’s safe and sleepy. Sheds are awful, but this is by far the best one he’s had so far.

“We’ll let you rest, Pent,” Charlie says. “But we’ll check in on you every once and a while, okay? Let us know if you need anything.”

“Hmmmm, I will,” Pentious murmurs sleepily. “Thank you both.”

If they answer, he isn’t aware of it; he’s already fast asleep.

They day passes surprisingly well. Pentious isn’t really awake for most of it, but when he is, he’s as comfortable as he can be despite the shed being upon him.

Even stranger, but surprisingly welcome, are his regular visitors now. Pentious never would have guessed for a moment that he’d be comfortable with anyone at all outside of his minions knowing about his shed, but at the Hotel it’s not… quite as awful as he anticipated.

Charlie stops by regularly to bring him water and check on him, and each time she brings someone new to help explain the situation. She’s careful to teach everyone how to properly wake him, or risk being bitten in a panic response. She has also, apparently, worked with his Egg Boiz to learn where the antivenin is and how to properly administrate it in the event of an emergency.

Pentious finds that reassuring. He certainly wouldn’t mean to harm anyone, after all. At least, not at the Hazbin Hotel. He still struggles to accept that people here are being nice, because he hasn’t seen nice in over a hundred years, but he’d like to believe it of people here if he can.

And in truth, the lot of them have been nice in their own odd ways. Vagatha had been straightforward and blunt in clarifying that she was not going to harm or punish Pentious for an accident, which he finds to be a relief. Despite Charlie’s assurances, he had admittedly been a little afraid of that spear of hers.

Niffty had been a little more frightening. She’d offered to clean his skin for him. He’d politely declined, especially since it wasn’t ready to come off yet. Thankfully, Charlie had managed to distract her by pointing out the muddy footprints from the bayou in the bulk of the bedroom, and she’d been eager to clean those for him instead.

Husk had been, surprisingly, the most helpful besides Charlie herself. He didn’t bring plain water, but instead some other drink with a fruity taste. It had been odd, but not unwelcome.

“It’s just some Gatorade knock-off,” Husk grumbles. “Got electrolytes’n some other vitamin shit in it. Figure it’ll help if you can’t eat nothin’ for a week and a half like Charlie said.”

Pentious thanks him anyway, since the thought is quite kind. It doesn’t seem to bother his stomach too much, at least. He’ll have to bear it in mind for future sheds.

Angel Dust also visits again that night, presumably after his job. “How’s the pillow treatin’ ya?” he asks, as he pours Pentious some water. Pentious can’t see his face, but he swears he can hear the grin anyway.

“Mossst comfortable, thank you again,” he says. “I wish I’d known about ssssuch an invention yearssss ago.”

“I’ll have to broaden your horizons when you’re over this,” Angel says. His tone is suggestive. Pentious has a feeling this means sex things. He will worry about that later.

Angel’s visit is also useful for another reason, since Pentious can barely see at all, but needs to make a trip to the restroom. He’d been too embarrassed to ask Charlie or Vagatha for assistance earlier. But Angel is a man (however effeminate his appearance might be) and it’s moderately less awkward to ask for an escort.

“I don’t gotta help you find the toilet, do I?” Angel asks doubtfully.

“Absssolutely not!” Pentious says, flushing with embarrassment, even if his scales won’t currently show it. “Jusssst help making it to the room. It’sss rather far, and I can’t ssseee well enough…”

“Yeah, sure,” Angel says. “Here, take my hand.”

Which is how Pentious spends ten minutes being carefully escorted out of the cave, across the stream and mud of the bayou, around piles of inventions and scrap metal, and over to his bathroom. It’s an exhausting process, and he has to stop to lean on Angel’s lower set of hands often. Angel is so tall he has a feeling he’s forcing the man to crouch to accommodate his currently low stature, but to his credit, Angel doesn’t complain as much as Pentious expects.

What Pentious really hates is how open the trip feels. It’s only his room, he tells himself, over and over. But with barely any vision, everything feels so much more open, and he feels so vulnerable to attack. Each creak of the building settling or hiss of the heating unit has him flinching. Anything could swoop in from any direction to kill him, and he wouldn’t know it was coming until it was too late.

“Hey, yer shakin’, man. You okay? Need a chance to sit?”

“No,” Pentious says. “I jussst want thisss over with so I can resssst….”

Using the restroom is a miserable experience, mostly because he does actually need to take a break and rest without Angel holding him up. He refuses to be so weak he needs assistance with the bathroom, though, so he takes his time. He can barely reach the sink to wash his claws, his body is held so low, but somehow he manages.

That messy business done with, he’s eager to get back to his safe, enclosed, warm cave. The encroaching noises of the room seem even worse, and even the shush of Angel’s spare hands against his own clothing causes Pentious to flinch.

“ Geez, you’re really twitchy, man. Sure you’re okay?”

“ I’m fine,” Pentious says stiffly, clinging especially hard to Angel’s arms in a panic when some of the bayou’s bank slips beneath his coils. His hood flares and immediately pulls, stiff and uncomfortable. “ Shit!”

“Woah, hey, everything’s okay. Just a little loose mud,” Angel says. He keeps his lower hands steady, guiding and holding up Pentious, while one of his upper arms pats Pentious soothingly on the back. “Everything’s good, man.”

“It doesn’t ssseem it,” Pentious mutters, leaning heavily on Angel’s arms. “I’ll feel much better back in the cave.”

Angel Dust clucks his tongue sympathetically, before saying, “You get the animal instincts real bad, huh?”

Pentious flattens his hood against his neck. “I beg your pardon?”

“Eh, just somethin’ I’ve noticed in Hell. Some people get the animal stuff worse than others. And you’ve been freakin’ out a little since leaving the cave, even with me here. Seems kinda snakey.”

Pentious doesn’t actually reply to that at first. He’s too focused on getting back to safety to really focus on conversation. But when he finally feels stone beneath his belly, and the welcoming warmth and pressure of cave closing in around him, he sighs in relief.

“I ssssuppose,” he says after a moment. “I’ve never known anything elsssse since arriving here.”

“Guess you don’t got much to compare to, either,” Angel says. “Don’t see a ton of snake demons around here. Hold on, Niffty left some towels, let me help ya get the mud off.”

“Much appreciated,” Pentious says wearily.

Angel helps him wipe down his scales—carefully, Pentious is relieved to find, so as not to pull on the old skin—freeing it from mud and dirt. He sighs in relief when he feels clean, reasonably at least, enough to curl up on the soft blankets Charlie had provided without making them disgusting.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met another ssssnake demon,” Pentious admits, as he settles wearily. “I wassss told when I firsssst arrived that my form was ssssupposed to be a blessssing from Lucifer himssself. I’ve never met the man, sssso I’m inclined to think otherwisssse.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever seen any myself,” Angel says. “I’ve met plenty of lizards and turtles and stuff. Couple dinosaurs and dragons. No snakes, though.”

Pentious hums in agreement.

“Now, spiders like me—met a few of those. When I first got here, knew a guy who was more spider than human, he was like a big fuckin’ tarantula. Willin’ to teach me some of the ropes’ve bein’ a spider in exchange for a little fun time together, if ya know what I mean.”

“ I can’t sssee any sssuggestive faces you’re making, but I asssssume you mean sssex.”

“ Geez, innuendo’s a lot less fun like this. Yeah, sex. But he taught me a little more about how I work down here, and that’s when I started noticin’ some of the differences with people gettin’ hit with the animal instincts more or less. Like, me? I might be a spider, but I’m more like a furry spider.”

“You are quite fluffy.”

“That’s not what I—nevermind. Not gonna explain furries to ya right now. This guy, he was a spider too, but way different. More…spidery. Made him scary as fuck, but he also had to do shit like moult.”

“Moult?”

“Yeah. S’kinda like sheddin’ for spiders. He’d be helpless when it happened, stuck sittin’ on his back waitin’ ta squirm outta his own old body. Scared the shit outta me, I was scared for years I was also gonna have to do that at some point.” A loud exhale. “Never had to, thank fuck.”

“Very fortunate,” Pentious agrees, a little jealous despite himself.

“ It’s…I guess where I’m goin’ with this story is, I get it, okay? I don’t got the animal instincts really, but I still get bein’ scared, even if ya know ya don’t gotta be. I get that this whole sheddin’ thing must suck and you got a snake brain tellin’ ya everythin’s awful. I know Charlie’s all about tellin’ ya it’s safe and we’ll take care of ya, and we will, but I’m tellin’ ya it’s alright ta be scared shitless anyway ‘cause sometimes shit just sucks. And ya don’t gotta hide it.”

“ Oh,” Pentious says, and feels unexpectedly emotional. “That’sss very…that isss kind of you to sssay. It alwaysss feels so ssssilly for thesssse animal instinctssss to take over, I’ve never liked it…I’m a man of logic and ssscience, I shouldn’t be afraid to leave a cave, and yet…”

“Yeah. I get it.” Angel gives him a pat on the shoulder. “And even without that, I get how hard it is to just…give up on being careful. Charlie’s sweet and all, but Hell’s still right outside the hotel, and it could come through the window at any moment. Sometimes it’s just hard to feel safe, even when ya know it is.”

Pentious spreads his hood as wide as he can in surprise and relief. “Yesss! That’ssss it exactly. Her Highnessss is a dear, but she hassss no idea that fighting for one’ssss life out there doesssn’t go away in a day.”

“Right? Figure she’s never had her back up against a wall like the rest of us Sinners before. But ya spend seventy years watchin’ for backstabbers and assholes, that instinct doesn’t go away in a day. Or a week. Or a month.”

Pentious is glad that someone, at least, understands. He’d been frankly shocked that Vagatha had been so harsh with him when he expected retaliation from the other residents. She didn’t understand the need to be prepared at all times, in case someone was ready to do battle. If you weren’t, it wasn’t a battle so much as a slaughter.

He understands that the residents are supposed to be safe, logically, but that doesn’t undo more than a century’s worth of defensive instincts to protect himself.

“‘Course, I didn’t drag your sorry ass outta that battle and up all those stairs the other day for nothin’,” Angel Dust adds, smacking Pentious lightly on the shoulder. “So be scared if ya want, and you don’t gotta hide it. But don’t forget I got six different guns that’ll blow anyone to pieces if they try gettin’ to ya like this, got me?”

Pentious can’t help but smile a little at that. “I’m not entirely sure Vagatha would permit it. That doesssn’t sssseem particularly… redeemable.”

“ It might be! Ain’t protectin’ your friends a good quality?”

Pentious has never really thought about it. It’s been a very long time since he’s had friends. But the thought of having people he cares for so much he’d be willing to fight for them, and not for himself…it f il ls him with a warm, fuzzy sort of feeling inside.

“We’re friendssss?”

“We’re battle buddies at this point,” Angel says. “And we’re both residents here. Gotta look out for one another, right? We’re the only ones bothering to try.”

“I…yesss. That doessss sound rather nice.” That warm, fuzzy feeling inside gets stronger. “I’d rather like to be your friend, Angel Dussst. And if you ever moult, I will be the firsssst to offer my protection.”

“I’ll hold ya to it,” Angel says. “But for now, I’ll letcha get some rest. Unless you need anything else?”

“ No,” Pentious says. He hesitates, because being vulnerable is still difficult, but he thinks back to Charlie’s lessons and pushes forward anyway. “And thank you for undersssstanding.”

“No prob, New Guy. I’ll check up on ya after work tomorrow.”

“I’ll ssssee you then,” Pentious says sleepily, and finds himself curiously unafraid to fall asleep around a man he’d done battle with not even a month ago.

This Hotel certainly does cause strange changes to happen.

The next day marks the absolute worst part of Pentious’ shed.

He wakes in the morning to Charlie’s sing-song greetings and a gentle tap-tap at the edge of his tail coils. Waking is difficult, and it takes longer than anticipated to rouse himself from his sleep. His whole body is stiff and miserable, and when he finally manages to wrench his eyes open thanks to his crusty, leaking shed fluid and the poor fit of his eyecaps and eyelids, it’s to find that he is fully and completely blind. Even color and light is gone, and everything is now a cloudy, opaque grayish-white.

“ Oh, poor Pent,” Charlie croons sympathetically. “Your eyes have gone all white.”

“All of them?” Pentious asks. In truth he has no idea what he looks like in this stage, since he’s never been able to see himself.

“Every single one,” Charlie says. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No,” Pentious says. “It feelsss strange, and I can’t sssee anything at all anymore. But it isssn’t painful.”

“I’m glad for that at least,” Charlie says. “You can’t see anything at all? How long does this last?”

“A few daysss,” Pentious admits. Always the worst days of his afterlife, in his opinion. Even now, knowing he’s safe here and that there are multiple people who would defend him, it’s hard not to be afraid.

“Well, we’ll take good care of you, I promise,” Charlie says reassuringly. “Here, I brought you some water! I’ll pour it for you.”

Like yesterday, Charlie helps him sit up and carefully puts the glass in his hand so he doesn’t have to flail around blindly for it. He takes it gratefully and sips, although handling the glass is more difficult today. His arms shake a little with the effort, and the glass is strangely heavy.

“Do you want another glass?” Charlie asks when he finishes, and holds it out for her to take.

“No, thank you,” Pentious says sleepily.

“Are you sure? You were drinking so much yesterday.”

“Perhapssss later. I’d rather resssst, for now, if you don’t mind, my dear.”

“Oh! Okay. I guess that’s alright. I’ll leave the pitcher of water here for you just in case. And the glass. Um, do you think you can find it by yourself?”

“I can call my minionssss if I mussst,” Pentious says, already lowering himself to the delightfully soft blankets again. His eyes are struggling to slide closed over his ill-fitting eyecaps, but it barely matters, since he’s already slipping under. “For now I need…ressst…”

He’s asleep before he hears Charlie’s answer.

Most of the day is the same. He wants nothing more than to rest, but he’s woken throughout the day by visitors. Rousing from slumber is difficult, even when they tap against his tail or call his name; he’s told sometimes it can take several minutes to wake him. They try to have him drink water or Husk’s nutrient drink whenever they can rouse him, but Pentious barely has the energy to lift a glass, and although he’s thirsty, he’s too tired to drink much. It all takes so much energy, and he barely has any for doing things anymore.

When he’s not fully asleep, he’s still dozing, halfway between dreaming and wakefulness. He barely moves, and although he’s alert for noises or threats, he doesn’t have much in him to do anything about it.

“—orried about him, Angel. He hasn’t been drinking enough all day.”

“ Don’t worry too much, Toots. He knows how to take care of himself. And we don’t know what’s normal.”

“But he said drinking was important! I don’t want this to turn out badly for him.”

“Frank says he usually does this at this part of the sheddin’ thing though, right?”

“Yeah, but Frank said something always goes wrong, too!” Shuffling. Footsteps. “I just don’t want him to feel awful while he’s here and we can take care of him.”

Distantly, Pentious feels like he should interject. Perhaps reassure the princess that he’s quite alright, and needn’t spend so much worry on him. But most of him is too tired to bother, and he hopes she can figure it out on her own.

They force him to wake up shortly after for another drink. Pentious doesn’t want to, but Charlie sounds so helpless he does his best to open his eyes for her, even if he can’t see.

“Hey, Pent. It’s almost bedtime for the rest of us, but I just wanted to get you one last drink of water, if you need it. Here, Angel will help you sit up, okay?”

Pentious allows himself to be lifted. He tries to help, but his arms have very little strength left. He saves it for holding the glass, and even that doesn’t last long. Halfway through the drinking, he loses his grip, and it slips out of his hands.

“Damn it,” he curses feebly. He didn’t hear it shatter, so someone must have caught it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Angel says. “We’ve all had those days. Didn’t even spill much!”

“Here, let me help you, Pent,” Charlie says. And sure enough, someone holds the glass to his lips and helps him drink, tilting it slowly and carefully so it’s not too much at once.

Pentious wants to cry a little. He’s never felt so awful, or so weak. To need help drinking. How shameful.

But neither of his companions mock him. Angel Dust holds him steady while Charlie helps him drink, and they’re both so attentive and kind and it really is quite a lot. Which is why Pentious feels extra bad when he finally turns his head away, only partway through the refreshed glass of water.

He can all but hear Charlie frowning. “Are you sure you don’t want more, Pentious?” she asks, and he can hear worry in her voice.

“I’m ssssorry,” Pentious says. Even with Angel Dust’s help sitting up, he’s practically drooping in the man’s arms. “I’m very tired…”

“Oh. Okay. That’s okay, Pentious. Do you maybe want to take a break and try in a few minutes?”

“Just want to ssssleep…”

“Alright.” She can’t hide the disappointment in her voice, but she certainly tries.

“ Need help with a trip to the bathroom before bed?” Angel Dust offers. And it’s a mark of just how exhausted Pentious is that he doesn’t even feel embarrassed at Angel offering in front of Charlie. He just shakes his head wearily, hanging even further.

“He’s really tired,” Charlie says. “Let’s help him settle down.” Between the two of them, they lay Pentious back down on his side as gently as possible, trying not to aggravate his oversensitive skin much. Angel nudges the body pillow close, and Pentious tries to wrap around it, but he’s too worn for more than a few coils of the tail and an arm thrown loosely over one end.

“Geez. He’s not even stranglin’ the thing. This is really takin’ it outta him.”

“Poor Pent.” Something strokes gently down the length of Pentious’ hood, softly enough not to pull at the scales. He twitches for a moment before realizing it’s the princess, and settles. She strokes his scales a few more times, humming a soothing little melody. “He looks so miserable. I wish we could help him more.”

“We got his back, Toots, that’s what counts,” Angel says. “I got tomorrow off, I’ll help ya check in on him tomorrow if ya want.”

“I’d really appreciate that. I’m worried about him.” Louder, and a little closer to his face, Charlie says, “Pentious?”

Pentious hums, about the only response he has the energy to muster.

“We’re going to go to bed for the night, okay? But we’ll be back first thing in the morning to help you, okay? And if you need anything, you can send the Eggs to come get us, alright?”

Pentious hums again in answer.

“Gonna assume that’s a ‘yes.’ C’mon, Toots, you’ve been worryin’ about him all day yourself, let’s get you to bed—”

The sounds grow distant, and Pentious sinks under.

Chapter Text

The next time Pentious is aware of visitors, it’s very slowly and gradually registering a distressed voice nearby. Very distantly, Pentious is aware of someone repeatedly tapping at his tail, trying to get his attention.

“—ious, come on, please? You’re really worrying me here, Pent, I need you to talk to me.”

“I dunno if he’s even conscious at this point, Toots.”

“Maybe we should try to shake his shoulder?”

“He’ll bite that way.”

“We have the antivenin—”

“ Trust me, Toots, you don’t wanna get bitten by him. It sucks.”

Pentious moans feebly, and there’s a scrambling sound nearby. “Pentious? Can you hear me?”

Pentious moans again in answer. He feels awful. Weak as a newborn kitten, muscles stiff and aching, ill fitting in his own skin and too exhausted to even open his eyes. What’s the point, anyway? None of them see.

“Pentious? I’m gonna touch you, okay? Please don’t bite me.”

Someone tentatively touches his shoulder. He flinches slightly and lets out a breathy hiss, but doesn’t have the strength to do much more than that.

“Okay. It’s okay, Pentious. Sssh, it’s okay. It’s just me, Charlie. And Angel Dust is here with me. It’s morning. We said we’d come back in the morning, remember?”

Pentious flicks his tongue out once, tasting the air. It’s them, alright. He manages a breathy whine, and a soft, “Yesssss.”

“Not lookin’ so hot this morning, Pal,” Angel Dust says sympathetically. “How about a drink?”

“Whissssky,” Pentious mumbles sleepily.

“Yeah, not that kinda drink, hotshot. How about water? C’mon, I’ll help you up, just don’t bite me.”

In truth, Pentious hasn’t the energy to do much of anything at all. He doesn’t bite, but the moment a hand closes around his arm, he hisses and tries to flare his hood. It catches painfully, too tight for his head, and his hiss turns into a yelp.

“Woah! Geez, did I hurt you?” Angel Dust shouts, immediately letting go.

“Don’t touch me,” Pentious hisses. He tries to curl up on himself, and fails miserably, too tired to do much of anything. His hood flops against his neck like dead skin, crumpled and useless.

“Pentious! What’s wrong? You were okay with us lifting you yesterday, did something change?” Charlie asks, worried.

“Sssskin hurtsss,” Pentious whines. “Everything hurtsss.”

“Hurts?”

“Ssssenssitive,” he hisses. “Nervessss…fresh…”

“Ah, shit,” Angel says. “Sorry, Pent. I didn’t realize.”

“Ssss’fine…”

“Is there some other way we can pick him up?” Charlie asks. There’s very real worry in her tone. “He looks awful. His breathing sounds awful too, poor thing. He needs water.”

“You like the blankets, right, Pent?” Angel asks.

“Ssssoft…”

“Geez, if I didn’t know any better I’d say he was drunk or high,” Angel mutters. “He’s kinda loopy today, huh? Hold on, I got an idea.”

Something leans over him; he can feel it in the warmth and the movement of the air against his flickering tongue. He hisses feebly, but the thing just says, “Easy, Pent, just me, not gonna hurtcha, I promise.”

And before he knows it, the soft blanket is being wrapped around his body like a cocoon. It doesn’t feel so bad; his nerves are alight with oversensitivity, but the blanket is soft enough that it’s not awful. The arms on the other side of the blanket lift him carefully, until his head flops against something fluffy and equally soft. A tongue flick suggests it is in fact Angel Dust. Odd.

“Better?”

Pentious hums in answer, too tired to speak. He’s already starting to drift off again, but Charlie strokes his face gently—so feather-light that it doesn’t hurt at all—and says, “Hold on, Pent. Don’t go to sleep yet. We need you to drink some water.”

“Tired,” Pentious mutters. “Ssssleep.”

“After you drink some water, okay? We’ll even help you. All you gotta do is drink it.”

Something is pressed gently to his lips and tilted. His tongue flicks out and tastes water, and he’s suddenly aware of how ravenously thirsty he is. But he can’t get his lips or his mouth to work properly, and it dribbles over his face and down his front.

“C’mon, Pent, you gotta try to work with us,” Angel says.

“Trying,” Pentious nearly whispers. “Thirsssty. Tired…”

They try again. Water does get into his mouth this time, but it’s too much. He chokes on it, gagging and coughing and spitting it up all down his front. By the end he’s whimpering piteously; it hurt, and he’s tired, and he feels uncomfortable, and his head hurts, and distantly he’s aware he should be ashamed because he’s weak, but he’s just too exhausted to care.

“I don’t think he can do it, Charlie,” Angel Dust says. “Look at him, he can barely stay awake.”

“ He has to drink water,” Charlie says. “We need to get it into him somehow! He’s going to get dehydrated like this.”

“I think we gotta figure out another way,” Angel says. “What about an IV?”

“Would that even work with the scales thing?” Charlie asks worriedly. “Pentious, have you ever had an IV when you were shedding, before?”

But Pentious doesn’t understand the question. He only leans wearily against nice soft Angel Dust, and hisses, “Head hurtsss…”

“Well, he’s definitely dehydrated,” Angel mutters.

“I don’t know how to put in an IV, and I definitely don’t know how well it’d work with Pent,” Charlie frets. “But he looks so awful, we need to figure out something…can you stay with him? I’ll go talk to Vaggie, but I don’t want him to be alone like this.”

“Sure. I’ll help him change into a new pajama top while you’re at it. He spilled water all over this one.”

“I’m sure that’d make him feel a lot better. I’ll be right back!”

Footsteps, retreating. Shuffling and movement, and arms through the blanket, trying to pull him away from soft. Pentious hisses with displeasure, trying to return to it.

“ Pent, relax. I’m just tryin’ ta lay ya back down so I can go get you a shirt. Do not bite my chest, I’ll be pissed.”

“No bite,” Pentious agrees. “No move. Comf’ble.”

“Y’know yer snugglin’ into my chest fluff, right?”

“Ssssoft…”

“Yeah, I’ve been told that. You’re gonna owe me one later for gettin’ your crusty gross shedding fluid stuff all up in my fake fluffy tits though, I hope you know.”

“Sssoft…”

“Nevermind. I’ll tell ya later when you’re not out of your mind like this.” The arms try to move him again, and Pentious isn’t strong enough to fight them, so he’s settled gently down while still wrapped in the warm, soft blanket. “Here,” the voice offers, “Have your pillow—shit, when the Hell did you wrap my ankle again?”

Pentious doesn’t really understand the question until someone tucks the body pillow close and drapes one of his arms over it. When he tries to wrap his tail around it, it’s already securely wrapped around something much thinner. This seems fine, until hands firmly grasp the end of his tail, unwrap it, and place it against the pillow, where he coils it automatically. Safe.

“I’ll be right back. Just gonna get you a shirt that’s not soaked, okay?”

Pentious doesn’t answer, because he’s already drifting off again. It barely seems like a moment before someone is gently tapping his tail to wake him again, and he makes a breathy, irritable hiss. Why won’t anyone just let him be comfortable and sleep?

“Yeah, yeah, quit your whining. Just gonna change the shirt and you can sleep until Charlie gets back, okay?”

Pentious has no words for this, until Angel Dust levers him upright, still using the blanket, and settles him against the wall. When he starts undoing the buttons of his silk pajama shirt, however, Pentious weakly raises a hand to try and slap the offending ones aside.

“Don’t want to do a sssssex with you,” he mutters dazedly.

Angel Dust snorts. “Good, ‘cause I’m not ‘doing a sex’ with anyone that’s this out of it, anyway,” he says. “Ya might not be high or drunk but this sure as fuck wouldn’t be consent. Relax, Sir Hiss-a-Lot, I’m just helpin’ change yer shirt. It’s all wet, that’s gotta feel gross, right?”

It does feel gross. Humid is good. Wet clothes are not. “Yessss.”

“Yeah, I figured. We’ll get it done real quick and then if ya want ya can go back to bed, okay?”

“Okay,” Pentious mutters.

He’s mostly useless for the shirt-changing, because he doesn’t even have the strength to sit up. The most he has in him is to secure his tail around a nearby thin anchor, enough to feel a little safer. But Angel is surprisingly gentle in helping him rid himself of the old shirt and slide his arms into the new one, all while touching Pentious’ sensitive scales as little as possible. It doesn’t take very long, but by the time Angel is buttoning up the front of the new, dry shirt, Pentious is already beginning to nod off again.

“Don’t fall over there, bud,” Angel says, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Geez, this shit really does a number on ya, doesn’t it?”

Pentious has no response to that.

“ And ya got my ankle wrapped again—how d’you keep doin’ that? Why do you keep doin’ that?”

“Sssafe,” Pentious mutters distantly. “Can’t fall.”

“Hate to break it to ya but that’s not gonna do much if you fall over sideways, Pal.”

“ Sssafe,” Pentious mutters stubbornly. Because he feels much safer when he can hold onto something securely.

“Okay, okay! D’you wanna go back to bed with your pillow, or do you wanna keep hangin’ onto me?”

“Ssssoft,” Pentious murmurs. “Tired. Resssst…”

“Chest fluff it is,” Angel mutters. “Can’t get any grosser, I guess.”

Pentious tilts for one dizzying moment, and flails a little with his arms for balance while squeezing with his tail. “Ow, man, don’t cut off my circulation, I need that foot,” Angel says, but a moment later the movement stops and Pentious is settled upright against something soft. The soft blankets are also readjusted around him, and his anchor slides a little closer, enough for him to wrap it a little more securely with a little more of his tail. “There, better?”

Pentious only hums in exhausted relief as he drifts off again.

He drifts in and out of wakefulness and sleep. He’s aware of external things, like a heart beating beneath his ear, the sound of breath, and the occasional click-tap of noises on a mobile phone. He never quite dreams, which is both a blessing and a curse. But he feels safe at least, even with another demon nearby, enough to know he’s protected and that he can rest without fear.

Eventually the thing he’s resting against shifts, and the heartbeat changes slightly, and it’s enough to rouse Pentious just enough to be vaguely aware of the waking world. The thing beneath him rumbles gently, and Angel says, “Any luck, Toots?”

“ Vaggie doesn’t know how to do an IV either, but she had another idea, and I just had to get the tools.” Distant footsteps. “ Aww! Poor Pentious, he looks so tired…but he seems comfortable with you, at least.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice. I’m kinda bein’ held captive.” Pentious’ anchor moves, and he hisses slightly, tightening his grip with his tail. “See? Says it makes him feel safe, so I wasn’t gonna push it.”

“Poor Pent,” Charlie croons again. “Will he be okay if I touch him?”

“ He hasn’t tried to bite me like this, so I think it’ll be okay. Just be gentle, I think his skin’s really botherin’ him. He’s real obsessed with soft things right now, s’why is face is all up in my chest fluff.”

Something brushes feather-light down Pentious’ folded hood, stroking soothingly. He twitches it, and draws in breath for a warning display, but Angel says, “S’okay, man, s’just Charlie. She ain’t gonna hurtcha.”

Pentious hums in answer. “Sssorry,” he mutters.

“ That’s alright, Pentious, I know you’re not feeling well,” Charlie says, stroking his hood again. This time he permits it. His skin is quite sensitive, but it also feels nice, all warm inside, to know someone wants to comfort him with connection. He hasn’t had anything like that in a long, long time.

Charlie keeps stroking his hood as she says, “Like I said, Vaggie had an idea. Pent can’t really drink on his own right now, but he can probably swallow. She said we could try syringe-feeding.”

“What, like a needle?”

“Um, sort of, but not for drugs and things. Just to put little amounts of water in his mouth so he can swallow it. Like this, see?” The stroking stops, and there's a crinkle of packaging. “I figure it was worth at least trying.”

“Can’t hurt. I can keep supportin’ him like this if you do the water part. Probably be easier when he’s upright.”

“Thanks.” There’s a touch at the side of Pentious’ face a moment later, and Charlie’s voice sounds closer when she says, “Pent? Are you awake?”

He is, but he doesn’t want to be. He wants to go back to sleep.

“C’mon, Pal, this is important,” Angel says, carefully patting him on the arm. “You’re thirsty, right? Want some water?”

He is very thirsty. He blearily tries to open his eyes, but they’re stuck fast. Then he remembers it’s pointless anyway, since he can’t see. “Glasssss…?”

“We’re gonna try something a little different, okay, Pent? Drinking seemed like it was really difficult for you before, because you’re so tired. So we’re gonna help you a little more, okay?”

He hums in agreement. Drinking was difficult, and he is very tired.

“I’ve got this, okay?” Someone lifts one of his hands and helps him touch an object. It feels like a long tube, with a plunger and a plastic tip. Not quite a medical needle, though, too thick and stubby for that. “I’m gonna put water in it, and use it to put some in your mouth, okay? All you need to do is swallow.”

That seems reasonable. Pentious hums again.

“Please don’t bite me, okay? I’m gonna try it now.”

“No venom, New Guy,” Angel Dust adds. “Play nice.”

There aren’t any threats, so there’s no need for venom. Although it does startle him, when someone touches his face and opens his mouth for him, enough for him to hiss automatically.

“Easy, Pentious. Woah, your tongue feels weird,” Charlie mutters. “Okay, I’m gonna give you some water, alright?”

Something is inserted between his fangs, and after a moment, a trickle of lukewarm water enters his mouth. He sputters for a moment, confused, but then convulsively swallows.

“Good job!” Charlie praises. “That worked really well! Okay, let’s try it again…”

They try it again, and again, and again. Charlie gets the hang of how much water to give him fairly quickly, and now that Pentious is ready for it, he doesn’t get startled and manages to swallow with no issues. It feels nice on his parched throat.

“That’s a whole glass,” Charlie says eventually. “You did a good job, Pentious! Do you want to try another?”

Pentious only hisses in answer. He’s tired. He wants to sleep. Water is nice, but drinking is exhausting.

“I think he needs a break, Toots. This is still takin’ a lot outta him. Let’s let him rest for a bit, yeah?”

“Alright. I’ll stay with you today. Let me know if you need a break, I can help him lay down or unwrap his tail from your ankle…”

“ Yeah, good luck with that. He can barely sit up, but that thing has a death grip. He don’t let go easy…”

Pentious lets the buzz of words and the thumping heartbeat beneath him lull him back to sleep.

He spends most of his time sleeping, now. He almost never wakes because he wants to. When he does, it’s usually because someone is shaking him awake to trickle more water into his mouth with the syringe. He hates when that happens, because he has to stay awake long enough to swallow, and it gets more and more difficult when he just wants to be resting.

Sometimes he considers not bothering, but voices coax him gently to wake for just a few sips, just a few tries. It’s usually Charlie, and she always sounds so worried that it’s a shame not to listen, so he does his best. He has a feeling he still disappoints her, sometimes, when he drifts off mid-water session. He’s so tired.

The worse times to wake up are when he’s moved. He hates being moved. Moving means his scales are touched too much and his sensitive new set of skin beneath is set afire with sensation, even with the blanket, and he hates it so much. It also means his tail is unwrapped from whatever secure feature he’s managed to grab onto. He dislikes that too.

He hisses and huffs his displeasure whenever it happens, of course. And while his friends are safe, they don’t seem to take his anger very seriously. “Oh, hush,” Angel mutters, the first time Pentious is levered away from soft and hisses irritably. “You’re fine. I need a break to stretch my legs and get somethin’ to eat.”

Rude. Mentioning legs.

“ Charlie’s gonna stay with ya, okay?” He’s settled against something new, a different kind of soft that smells very nice, long and thin and with many strands. Hair, he realizes. Charlie’s long hair, pulled forward over her shoulder so he can settle against it comfortably. It will suffice, he decides, as the blanket is wrapped around him again. Someone tugs at his tail, which he squeezes on principle, but it’s unwrapped fairly quickly and set against a new anchor. He secures to that without hesitation, and immediately slumps in relief.

“ Oh, that feels weird,” Charlie mutters.

“Right? He’s got a grip, a lot stronger than he looks. I’ll send somebody up to keep ya company, okay?”

“Thanks, Angel!”

And that’s Pentious’ new life. He sleeps. He wakes against his will, reminded of his aches and blindness and sensitivity. Someone coaxes water into him, or he’s passed around like a plush toy. Different people, different smells, different kinds of soft and safe. He makes himself comfortable. He sleeps again. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

A miserable existence. But distantly, he thinks, maybe not as miserable as it usually is.

He doesn’t know how long he lives like that. But eventually, even waking to have water trickled into his mouth is too much. He can barely stay coherent long enough to let them even open his mouth to slide the syringe between his fangs. The water dribbles out the other side of his mouth, because he’s barely there enough to remember swallowing.

“Fuck, he drooled on me.” Angel Dust again. Pentious doesn’t remember when he came back, or became Pentious’ newest soft, but he feels safe enough.

“He’s not even swallowing anymore.” Charlie. Anxious. Sad. Pentious would like for her to not be, but he’s far too exhausted to ask what the matter is.

“Here, try again.” Hands adjust his face.

“I don’t want him to breathe it—”

“Nah, I got an idea. Just go slow.”

The water is dribbled into his mouth again. This time, something strokes his long throat, coaxing him to swallow.

“That worked!”

“Try again. I’ll help.”

Pentious is vaguely aware that he’s being manhandled quite a bit, water being forced into him slowly and carefully. He can’t bring himself to care. He drifts under again.