The next few days were busy. Sinners finally began arriving at the hotel, much to Charlie's delight. It turned out all they needed was proof that redemption was possible. Angel brought several of his coworkers, and even Cherri agreed to drop by more often. Elida had her hands full keeping her potions on the shelves, especially the addiction treatment, about which word was spreading fast. She wondered if she would need to hire additional help to keep things in stock. Maybe the hag would know of someone who would be interested in helping.

Alastor's terrifying grin made everyone nervous, but despite his minor pranks, he didn't actually harm any of the new guests. As the rooms filled up, he interviewed several candidates for the new kitchen staff. After several taste-tests and a few kitchen fires, he finally settled on a gourmet chef whose restaurant had recently been reduced to rubble in a turf war. She'd brought her staff with her, which meant Alastor wouldn't need to find other hands that would get along with the new chef's somewhat grating personality. He thought her filet mignon was to kill for.

Before anyone knew it, the hotel was nearly full, and Elida had been there a week. Another knock came at the door, and Charlie asked Alastor to answer, as she had her hands full giving a lesson on empathy to a room of rather unruly demons. He opened the door to find a visibly frightened angel clutching a messenger bag in front of himself like a shield. This one didn't have a single animalistic trait, instead giving off a more fairytale-prince vibe, just without the armor or confidence.

"Uh… Hi. Is Elida here?" He asked, the poor man's nerves only growing worse at seeing Alastor's sharp teeth.

"Who's asking," Alastor replied, already brainstorming ways he could toy with this newcomer.

"I'm the new courier. I have her mail," The man's ethereal glow was just as striking in this environment as Elida's, but he clearly lacked her ability to appear calm among the chaos.

"Well then, right this way!" Alastor threw an arm around the horrified man's shoulder's chuckling at how he shrank away in terror, "I'm sure she'll be thrilled to hear news from back home, ha ha ha!" His sharp fingers dug into the man's arm.

"Oh my darlin', oh my darlin', oh my daaaarlin' Elida," Alastor called out to the tune of clementine toward Elida's shop corner, "You have a visitor."

The courier recognized the colorful vials and bubbling cauldron of Elida's shop. When he'd gone by her store last week to find it empty, he'd been baffled, so he asked around trying to find out where she'd gone. No one had seen her, and her apartment was cleaned out. Finally, he asked Emily if she knew what had happened and she told him where Elida had gone, on the condition that he keep it confidential. He was naturally horrified but felt better knowing it was a charity project rather than a fallen-angel scenario. Her practice had always been controversial among the other angels, no matter how sweet and gentle she was. The courier offered to take Elida her mail each week, just so he could see her. Heaven felt a little dimmer without her there.

The smiling red demon clutching his shoulders finally released him to move behind Elida's counter. He leaned a grinning face towards a soft white glow and spoke in a voice that sounded like it came from an old radio, "What are you doing down there, dear?"

The courier did not like hearing this demon call her that.

Elida stood up quickly, miscalculating the distance between her head and Alastor's face. She clocked him right in the nose.

"Ah!" his static subsided a bit in surprise. Alastor rubbed his nose. He was bleeding. That was impressive, considering how durable he was.

Elida felt horrible, "Oh, I'm sorry, Allie, are you okay?" She removed his hand from his face and cringed at the damage she'd caused, "Oh no… Here," She placed a healing kiss onto his nose, mending it immediately. She wanted to cry. She hated it whenever she caused anyone pain, even if it was an accident. She buried her hands in her face, "I'm sorry!" She repeated.

The courier knew objectively that a healing kiss was just how that particular spell worked with Elida's type of magic, but he still felt a pang of jealousy seeing her use it on this creepy other man. The demon seemed to know exactly what the courier was thinking, and he offered a smug smirk to the newcomer over Elida's shoulder. She didn't see it, head still in her hands. For Alastor's part, he just enjoyed baiting people.

"Now now, darling, think nothing of it," He brushed her cheek affectionately, just to add insult to injury. "You have a visitor." He summoned a handkerchief to clean himself up.

She peeked through her fingers, face turning purple in a distressed blush of embarrassment, "Who?" When she saw who it was, her jaw dropped. "Marcel? What in the name of all that is holy are you doing here?"

He was relieved to see that she was alright, but incredibly uncomfortable with the familiarity she was showing with these horrible creatures of the pit. She'd only been here a week. "I wanted to see you," He explained, "I was worried when you disappeared, so I sweet-talked Emily and Sera into letting me bring you your mail each week. Everyone seems to be under the impression that you'd decided to run off and live as a forest hermit."

"Ha! That does sound like something our lovely Elida would do," the tall red man with the creepy smile interjected. Marcel shot him an annoyed look.

A sloth demon with too many piercings to count brushed a claw on Marcel's chin, "Ohh, who's this hottie? Are you single? I've never had angelic dick before."

Marcel froze, confused, scared, and incredibly uncomfortable. He instinctively leaned away, words escaping him.

"Sweetie, Marc isn't accustomed to being openly sexualized. You're upsetting him." Elida may have rejected Marcel's advances several times, but she still considered him a friend. They'd died at the exact same time and had showed up to the pearly gates together. She wasn't in love with him like he was with her, but he was still important to her. And despite his refusal to take no for an answer, he was a sweet kid. She was surprised he had the guts to come down here, even for a short time. She didn't want him to end up regretting it. As long as he kept his roses and poems to himself, it was nice to see a familiar face.

"Aw come on, handsome, I want to know what holy cum tastes like," the sloth man was far too close. Marcel started to panic.

A spider demon with a gold tooth walked up and grabbed his arm, using a tone akin to a kindergarten teacher, "Jono, that's enough. What'd we learn in Charlie's lesson on boundaries yesterday?"

Jono sighed and folded his arms in annoyance, "If someone says no, fuck off and go."

Marc thought that was an incredibly crass way of putting it, but he'd take whatever he could get to convince this guy to get away from him.

"That's right, good memory," the spider praised, still sounding like he was speaking to a child, rather than a grown man. "As a fellow sex worker, you know all about the laws of consent. Anything other than an enthusiastic 'yes' is a…?"

"A 'no'," He grumbled in reply, pouting a bit.

"Exactly. Now, what is this guy's body language saying about his consent?"

Jono's pout deepened. Eventually he sighed and began to walk away, waving a hand dismissively, "Pft, fine. He's probably only into vanilla shit anyway."

Marc didn't know if he was, not that he'd want to find out down here. He'd spent his entire childhood battling cancer and had barely reached adulthood before losing the fight. Every day was spent in hospital gowns and doctor's offices. He'd died a virgin and had been pursuing Elida ever since. She kept saying no. He kept hoping he'd convince her to marry him, then maybe he'd finally have the life he'd missed out on back on Earth. Maybe supporting her with her project, no matter how scary it was, would finally convince her to give him a chance. He'd tolerate demons once a week for a few years if it meant finally impressing the girl of his dreams.

"Uhh…" He cleared his throat nervously, "Anyway... Here," He lifted the bag off his shoulder, setting it on Elida's counter. He pulled a bundle of letters out, tied with a golden string. "I think a few of them are requests for custom potions, but I didn't actually read them, so I'm not sure. A lot of the names are from your regulars, though. There's also," He trailed off a bit, reaching an arm impossibly deep into the bag, as if it had no bottom, "A few of these." He pulled out several bouquets of flowers, boxes of chocolates, and tacky heart-shaped trinkets. Elida cringed.

"Oh no, not this again," She sighed, placing a weary hand on her forehead.

"Those aren't from me, but this is," From his own jacket, Marcel pulled a single rose, "A little snack," he joked, hoping it would at least make her smile.

She gave him a pained look, "Marc, I already told you I don't-"

"I know, I know," He took her hand and placed the rose in it, "But if your other suitors get to mail you flowers, then so can I."

Elida looked through the notes on the bouquets to see who'd sent them. Almost all of them were people she'd rejected; the rest were people she didn't know had wanted to pursue her. When Elida's table ran out of room, Marc set to piling the unwanted gifts on the floor beside them. There were so many of them you'd think it was a memorial event. Everyone was looking. Alastor helped himself to a fresh pear from a way-too-big fruit basket.

Wanting to change the subject, Elida asked, "Can we send letters back with you?"

Marcel shrugged, "I don't see why not. Are they ready?"

"Can you give us two hours?"

He didn't like the idea of staying here for two minutes, let alone hours, but he had a hard time saying no to her, "Okay. Should I just… wait here? Or something?"

She turned to the smiling antlered man eating her fruit, "Alastor, why don't you show him around and find somewhere comfortable he can rest for a bit?"

"Hm," Alastor sighed a nasally sigh, but agreed anyway, "As you wish." He finished the pear and dabbed juice off his chin with the same blood-soaked handkerchief from before.

"Oh, wait, hold on," She grabbed his shoulder before he could walk away, "Can I borrow your microphone really quick?"

He narrowed his eyes but handed it over without protest. Elida gave the stick a little tap and spoke, "Attention guests of the Hazbin Hotel," Her pleasant voice amplified throughout the building, "In two hours, a courier will be leaving for Heaven. He has agreed to bring any letters we wish to send with him. For those of you with loved ones in Heaven, now is your chance to let them know you're on your way to join them in paradise. Please be advised that any hate mail sent will result in being banned from future correspondence, but letters of love and friendship are highly encouraged. If you need materials, please visit Positivity Potions for free paper and envelopes. The courier will be leaving in two hours and will not return for another week." She handed Alastor's staff back to him and cast a minor conjuration spell to create a stack of parchment, envelopes, and pens.

Marcel reluctantly followed the tall red man, glancing back at Elida as she was swarmed by demons looking for writing materials. They hadn't gotten far when the hotel doors swung open violently, the lock breaking with a crack, causing every face to turn and stare. Standing in the doorway was a towering moth-man with a purple face and some kind of white powder under his nose. He looked pissed.

He stalked inward, enraged. "Where are you you little slut!" He shot a few bullets from a gun covered in cheap rhinestones. Chaos ensued, every guest screaming and running for cover. Marcel noticed that Elida was calmly walking forward, rather than running away. He tried to make his way over to her, but there were too many people running the opposite direction to get to her. The red demon she'd called Alastor stayed put, still smiling. A dark aura began to gather around him. Marcel fought the urge to run with the others.

"You think you can up and quit, just like that, you whore! Where the fuck are you?"

The giant purple demon caught sight of Elida and grabbed her neck, lifting her into the air and bringing her up to eye-level, gun pressed to her head. Her hooves dangled limply in the air. She didn't scream or struggle, she simply looked at her attacker as he shouted in her face, "Who the fuck do you think you are trying to poach my best whores!? I'll kill your whole family you cunt bitch!"

Elida spoke calmly, her voice finally audible now that the majority of the crowd had evacuated, "Hello again, Mr. Valentino," Marc could see her attempting a spell. It didn't look like it was working. This demon must be powerful if he could resist her magic. Despite the failure, her voice kept the same calm tone, "If you'd like to talk, we can talk. But if you don't set me down, you're going to get frostbite."

"You think I'm scared of a pathetic little snowflake like you, you icy bi-"

Elida bit his hand, forcing him to let go with a cry of shock. She landed gracefully on the ground, backing up out of the attacker's reach, turning to look past Marc's shoulder, and giving the red demon beside him a nod.

Alastor chuckled, "Ha! Frostbite. Nice one, Goody-Two-Shoes!"

A black tentacle-thing wrapped around the intruder's waist, pulling him out the front door and throwing him onto the ground. Marcel turned to see Alastor's smile had grown sinister, his eyes glowing in the shape of radio dials, and strange symbols surrounding him. He began a crazed laugh as he made his way to the door to continue his attack, clearly enjoying himself.

Behind Alastor, the spider that had rescued Marc from the sloth-man followed behind him, cautiously peeking out the door. He looked resolute, like he'd just made some kind of big decision. Mark wanted to move, but he was rooted to the spot in terror. He hoped it wouldn't be like this every week.

Another demon, a winged cat covered in playing card symbols grabbed the spider's arm, "Angel, wait!" He pulled Angel close, whispering something that Marc couldn't hear. They argued for a moment. Elida stood just outside the doorway, watching with curiosity as Alastor battled the moth-man. The fight was getting ugly; The moth flapped his wings, sending forth a wind strong enough to make the hotel's front windows shatter. Alastor was nearly knocked over.

Angel planted a passionate kiss on the cat man beside him before pushing him to the ground and running out the door, pulling several sets of arms seemingly out of nowhere, each one carrying a different gun. He let loose, surprising the moth-man with a barrage of bullets straight into his chest. When the attacker fell to ground, Alastor's dark aura subsided, a casual smile on his lips as he examined the bleeding pile of flesh at his feet. He turned to Angel just in time to see the show.

Angel tossed the guns to ground and stood over the body of his now ex-abuser, "I told'ya, asshole, I quit. Effective immediately." Valentino would regenerate, but the bleeding mess on the ground would send one hell of a message.

Even though only the few demons brave enough to peek out from their hiding spots actually witnessed it, every single guest of the Hazbin Hotel claimed they had personally seen what happened next. Several people filmed the event. Livestreams, video clips, and social media posts flooded Hell's internet. After all, it wasn't every day that Heaven gained a brand-new angel.

Angel Dust felt light, it was so much better than the high he'd gotten from the drugs he'd worked so hard to free himself from. It took him a few moments to realize his feet were no longer touching the ground. Looking down in confusion, he locked eyes with Husker, who had made his way outside and was reaching up to him. He had pride in his eyes, mixed with a profound sadness. Angel reached down before he could float too high and grasped his dear friend's hand.

"You better be next, you hear me? Don't make me wait."

"You'll owe me a drink when I join you," Husker's gruff voice responded before Angel's... no… Anthony's fingers slipped away. The rest of his friends gathered in a circle, waving at him as he ascended. Charlie was sobbing uncontrollably.

It was a long way up. They watched Anthony fly away to join the stars like a ship disappearing over the horizon.

When Marcel returned to Heaven, he was glad that his bag was bottomless, because he had far more mail going up than he'd had going down. Several of them were written to the very soul who'd just ascended, allowing Marc a good opportunity to find and meet him. It wasn't strictly necessary to deliver the letters himself, Heaven had its own postal service, but Marc wanted to see his new eternal neighbor and thank him properly for getting the sloth-demon off him. He invited him to a movie night with Marc's other friends to help the newcomer feel welcome. Anthony agreed to go only on the condition that Sir Pentious be invited as well. "The more the merrier," Marcel agreed.

From that point on, Anthony made sure to write to Charlie and the others every week. He owed them his soul, his freedom, and his paradise. He couldn't wait to see Husker again. That grumpy-ass bartender better not take too long. Heaven had the best wine he'd ever taste.