Alastor did his usual rounds through the hotel lobby, helping random demons find their way around, give staff members assignments, great new guest at the front door. He did this every morning, without flaw, and without anything else occupying his mind as he did so. Alastor finished his morning duties, and started making his way up to his room to do some paperwork, when he passed by the bar and saw something that caught his eye.

Angel Dust sat with a random demon, they were obviously flirting, the demon said something that made Angel laugh. Alastor felt his hands tighten around his cane and his teeth grind together, he almost scowled, and for some reason, Alastor wanted to rip the random demon's throat out.

"That scum isn't worthy of Angel's attention, or to hear his laugh!"

The words passed through Alastor's head with a ferocious venom, causing Alastor to snap back into reality. What was that strange feeling? It wasn't really the urge to kill, like Alastor sometimes got, but the urge to have Angel's attention. Whatever this strange feeling was, Alastor didn't like it. He'd have to remember to ask Charlie about it later, maybe she would know what this feeling was.

For now though, there was paperwork to be done.

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"Oh Charlie, dear!" Alastor called in his usual chipper voice as he caught Charlie on her break.

"Hey, Al!" Charlie wore her usual smile, "What's up?" Alastor approached her with his usual dapper manner, concealing his bundle of confusion.

"Well, earlier today, after finishing my morning task, I was making my way back to my room when I passed the bar and experienced an emotion that I'm not familiar with." Charlie cocked her head to the side, Alastor never came to her about this sort of thing.

"What did this emotion feel like?" Charlie was now leaning forward a little, intrigued.

"It was similar to frustration, or anger, but it was more of a need to remove a random demon from Angel's attention." Charlie nearly fell over as Alastor spoke.

"Wait. Let me see if I got this right, you saw Angel flirting with some random demon, and you wanted Angel's attention to not be on that demon?" Alastor's smile somehow grew, pleased Charlie understood.

"Yes. I really wanted to rip out that demon's throat for some reason. I couldn't understand why, Angel flirts with demons all the time. It perplexing why it would make me react like that." Alastor raised a picked eyebrow as Charlie giggled in amusement.

"Alastor, it's sounds like you're jealous that Angel wasn't flirting with you." Alastor's smile strained at Charlie's words. What was she taking about? Him? Jealous?

"That's absolute nonsense, my dear! Why would I be jealous of another demon flirting with Angel Dust? You know very well that I don't like it when he flirts with me! Why, I have to make death threats to get him to stop!" Charlie chuckled at Alastor's sudden distress to her accusation.

"You're probably just used to his attention being on you, and seeing him give another demon his attention upsets you, making you jealous." Charlie put her hands on her hips, waiting for Alastor to argue with her.

"Absolute nonsense! For what reason would I, Alastor, the great and feared Radio Demon, be jealous that Angel Dust, an arrogant, annoying, and repulsively vulgur pornstar, was flirting with some random demon?" Alastor raised his arms above his head dramatically.

"I don't know, Al." Charlie crossed her arms and smiled smugly, "Why don't you ask yourself that?" That left Alastor without words, smiling tightly. Instead of speaking, Alastor simply scoffed and turned away to go back to his room.

"Complete Tom Foolery." Alastor said quietly to himself as he walked through the lobby. He looked up to see Angel by the front door, flirting with another demon. Alastor felt the same feeling from earlier overtake him. Before Alastor completely lost it, he turned and stomped up the stairs, but not before Angel caught a glimpse of him from the corner of his eye. It looked to Angel like someone had royally pissed the deer demon off.

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The woman's cold, blank face stared up at Alastor, pain and horror written across her face.

The people in the crimson robes stood around Alastor, their faces hidden within the shadows if their robes.

Alastor tasted blood and flesh in his mouth. It was the first time he'd ever tasted it, and it was all he needed to become addicted to the taste.

Alastor looked down at the woman, his shaking, bloody hands holding the knife over the spot where the woman's heart used to be. He realized he held her heart in his other hand, the place where he'd bitten into it still visible.

Alastor remembered who the woman was, and screamed. It was a scream of a young boy, and it was filled with horror, sorrow, and eternal self hatred.

The people- no...the monsters. The monsters in the robes cackled. They cackled at the anguished boy.

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Alastor woke up screaming and crying, just like he had every night since that night, since before he even came to Hell. Alastor brought his knees to his chest, sobbing silently. His charismatic and dapper faúcade completely shattered, revealing the broken and terrified soul underneath. After what felt like centuries of crying, Alastor managed to glance at his bedside clock.

It was three in the morning. Everyone else in the hotel was still asleep. He felt better that he'd picked a soundproof room, but Alastor still felt in the need of a pick me up. Alastor pulled his blanket off and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He stretched out his arms in his red silk pajamas, and stood up, slipping on the comfortable and fluffy red slippers he kept right next to his bed. Alastor cast his gaze around his room. It had black wall paper with crimson deer hoof prints, red carpet, dark grey  trim, a king sized bed with dark red sheets, a matching pillow case, and a black comforter, the bedframe was made from dark mahogany, as was the dresser that was against the wall next to the small walk in closet, the desk in the corner of the same wall, the nightstand next to Alastor's bed, the door on the opposite wall, which was the right hand wall, and the coatrack right next to the door. A gas lamp sat on the nightstand, the other lights in the room were also gas powered. A bathroom sat on the opposite wall from the bed. Other than that, there was nothing else in Alastor's room except for am old fashion radio on his desk.

Alastor grabbed his black bathrobe from the coatrack, put it on, and silently opened his door and walked out into the hallway while tying the front of his robe. The hotel staff, a.k.a. the Hazbins, got the entire top floor to themselves for their living area. It included all of the Hazbins room, which had their own bathrooms and little walk in closets, a small kitchen and dining room, a decent sized living room, and their own laundry room.

Alastor headed towards the kitchen and started pulling out all of the ingredients to make hash browns, bacon, sausage, eggs, and pancakes. His mother would always make it for him for breakfast when he felt upset, sure Alastor knew he couldn't make it exactly like his mother did, but it soothed the pain either way. Alastor yearned for his mother.

Alastor pulled out the chocolate chips and cinnamon and got to work, pulling out a few more ingredients as he worked to make the finishing touch of his mother's signature pick me up breakfast. It wasn't long until the smell of the food attracted another Hazbin.

"Alastor? Are you...cooking in your bathrobe?" Came the familiar voice.

"Angel!?" Alastor almost made a total mess of the bacon he was flipping. He jolted around to see Angel leaning against the kitchen door frame, dressed only in his nightgown.

"Mornin', Al." Angel let out a yawn and stretched his arms above his head. Angel's eyes drifted to the brewing coffee pot, "Would ya mind cooking for two? I'd usually make my own breakfast, but that smells fucking  delicious."