Soon after their argument and subsequent goodbye, Vaggie had packed and left, with barely a farewell to the rest of them. A bit shocked and perturbed, the staff and guests awake that early morning watched her glide through the front door without a glance back.

Charlie was an absolute wreck. For days she barricaded herself in her bedroom while her wails could be heard throughout the hotel. Her time was spent face-down in a tear-soaked pillow.

The ones who managed to access her company being Niffty with her crafty excuse of food. Or Angel with his misguided attempts to cheer her up with some ill-timed joke. Even Husk would visit, a pick-me-up beverage cradled in his paws, and some sage whisper of advice.

The last to visit, of course, after enough time had sufficiently passed, was Alastor. He entered in his shadowy mist, unburdened by her bedroom door. An uncertainty to his gait, he wandered over to her side and kneeled next to her face.

"Go away," she mumbled into her pillow, knowing it was him. Charlie still didn't want to face the deer demon after the outcome of her breakup. It felt wrong to see him. Strange and uncomfortable. She didn't know what to believe anymore. If Vaggie could hide so many dark thoughts from her, and Alastor could say things that didn't match her idea of the truth with such a straight face…well, what did she truly even understand?

The demoness didn't want to do anything. At least not right now. And the one thing she especially didn't want was to be lectured by a constantly pontificating demon.

"Hello, my darling, how are you faring on this fine day? The troops are certainly missing their fearless leader," he crooned.

"I don't care. Go lead them yourself since you're so wise," Charlie grumbled back to him, her form twisting in her sheets away from his face.

He disappeared and reappeared next to her on the bed, an exact parallel to the last time Charlie was wrapped up in her moping.

Only this time she didn't fall, shocked, out onto the floor. She stayed, curled in her blanket and glared at the man next to her, him looking all too smiley and casual to be laying next to her on his side, a gloved hand on his hip.

"I am sorry to hear of your heartbreak, my dear," he began, somewhat serious.

She briefly tensed before turning her back to him. "What do you know about heartbreak?" her voice muffled by the sheets.

He vanished again and reappeared back at her bedside. His figure was languid and loose. He ran a gloved hand over her hair and she clenched her eyes shut, fighting sudden tears at his gentle touch.

"More than you know, sweetheart," he murmured in reply.

But Charlie wasn't having it today. Not his kind gestures or enigmatic puzzles. It didn't mean anything and never would. She had tried diving in and was only met with more confusion and colorful wordplay.

She swatted his hand away, unflinching. "And I'll never know," she said, throwing his old words back in his face. "Can't you just leave me alone, Al?"

"Hmmm, I don't think I can," he said. "Not when you're this upset."

"Well, I'm upset because of you too, you know! I heard it all. Why- why even say that shit about– missing my face? If it's just for yourself anyway? I don't know what to think anymore. First Vaggie–" she broke off, a blockage rising in her throat. "-offering her soul and feeling all alone, and then you– ugh, I don't want to talk about it!" she yelled, more at herself than him. She flung a pillow in his direction and it gently bounced off of his still form. Charlie buried her head back into her blankets.

Alastor perched himself on the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, unspeaking.

Before long, Charlie groaned and propped herself up to glare at him. Clearly, ignoring him wasn't going to work. "Al, there's nothing you can say or do right now that will make me feel better. I just want to be miserable all on my own! I don't need your help or your pity!"

"Funny," he mused, "I recall someone giving me the business for saying something quite similar…"

"Yeah, except I can't just teleport away when I feel like it!"

"Touché, my dear. But nonetheless, I understand your–"

She was quick to interrupt, in no mood. "No you don't. That's just it. We're on completely different wavelengths, all the time. You don't feel how I feel. Or care how I care."

"Now that's a bit unfair, Charlie," he said, a dip in his tone.

Alastor might have played along with her in the past, even indulged in her negative viewpoint of him, but not right now. Now it stung. Is this how she felt when he rejected her?

"I know, I know, I'm being unreasonable and awful and I'm terrible! So you should just go!" She cried. Even when he was just trying to comfort her, all Charlie wanted to do was hurt him. In her pain, she didn't want to be seen like this, or made to feel better. She didn't deserve it.

A fresh wave of guilt coursed through her again and Charlie cringed, shaking her head to rid herself of the poisonous thoughts. She really did hurt Vaggie, even though it all started with Vaggie hurting her! All this attention and time she focused towards Alastor… it ate at her now, digging into the part of her spirit that always advocated for good.

Charlie certainly didn't feel good right now… and she felt even worse for taking it out on Alastor.

A brief moment of clarity came over her and she sat up, wanting to explain herself.

But when she looked over at him, he was doubled over, clutching at his chest, his teeth clenched in pain.

Charlie sat up and went to his side, her negative emotions temporarily set aside. "What's wrong?" she asked, her hands hovering above him as if afraid to jostle him further.

"I don't mean to detract from your situation right now–" he grunted. "But the Mark doesn't seem to take kindly to whatever is happening here," he said, indicating the two of them.

"What do you mean?" Charlie replied, confused.

Alastor regained himself a bit and sat up, his composure falling back into place.

"Your pain is my pain, my darling," Alastor said with too straight a face. His red eyes searching hers.

Her eyes watered again, her mouth changing from an open-mouthed stare back into a frown.

"You can't just say things like that if I don't know if you mean them!" She flipped back around with impressive speed and returned to her face-down position.

But Alastor wouldn't be deterred at all. He slinked back over her, his form covering her like a protective shadow. "What do I need to do to prove that I'm being genuine?"

"I don't know," she whined quietly, a fresh stream of tears flowing down her cheeks. "Nothing."

"Then 'nothing' it is," he whispered, shutting his mouth into a sad grin. He reached over a gloved claw and wiped it against her cheek, taking tears with it.

Charlie turned and watched him, her red eyes following his every movement.

Alastor leaned over her, hovering for a moment.

She waited for what was to come, whatever it might be. Anticipation swimming in the air. But instead he just returned his hand to her face, swiping it over her bangs and across her forehead. Her skin was glowing with sweat. His hand came to rest on her cheek and his fingers played across her skin.

Charlie blinked in a silent wonder, never knowing what he would do next. But for once, even he didn't seem to have a clue. There was nothing he could do right now, nothing appropriate anyway.

He would leave her be for now, a bundle of questions still sitting on his tongue. All he knew was that the angel had left the hotel, according to Husk, and it was a rather tearful affair. He couldn't help but feel mildly responsible, knowing what had directly preceded their break-up. He also couldn't imagine how the dynamics within the hotel would shift with the new profound absence. He couldn't exactly feel upset at the loss and the thought churned his stomach with a sick guilty pleasure.

He straightened back up to go, but a tug against his sleeve stopped him.

Charlie's fist curled around the fabric of his coat. "Wait…" Avoiding eye-contact she mumbled, "I thought of something you can do…"

"Hmmm?" He raised a brow, all too eager to oblige.

"Will you… sing me another song?"

She would cease this moping eventually. But while being depressed and out of sorts, she wanted some momentary consolation. Even if she thought it was selfish. If there was anyone able to give it to her while she felt this way, it would be Alastor, the so-called self-centered, swaggering brute that he claimed to be.

But she believed him; his kind actions or kind words. Charlie thinks she always did. Though what she couldn't believe is that the so-called Radio Demon was the one to be saying and doing such things. She thought she knew who or what he was. The passage of time within the hotel had taught her so much and what she had endured to absorb was just how wrong she was about what being the Radio Demon could entail.

It was like she had said before… No matter what anyone did or said to besmirch his character, there was still some part of his greater essence that was nothing but good. At least to her.

As a blithely tune floated from his cane, and a charming smile grew upon his countenance, Charlie allowed herself to close her eyes and take in the short-lived comfort that he could offer her.

Time didn't stop just because it felt like the world she understood had just shattered. There was still work to be done, souls to be saved, dreams to be shared.

But not right now. Right now, she'd selfishly take his song all for herself.

…

Outside of Charlie's bedroom door stood Husk, Angel, and Niffty. All carrying some manner of food, drink, or board game.

Angel pressed his head up against the wood and listened. He was working hard to suppress whatever emotion he was feeling, be it awe or embarrassment. A light blush tinged his cheeks and he looked back at his companions, mouth open.

"He's fuckin' singing!" he sharply whispered. "I can't handle this."

Angel swapped positions with Husk and he gave his own listen at the door. "Damn, you ain't kidding. How sweet," the cat demon drawled, grunting in disbelief.

"Didn't take him long to move in on her after Vags, huh?" said Angel, crossing his arms.

Husk shook his head. "I don't see it like that. Vaggie and the princess were a powder keg just waiting to explode. It just finally happened. And those two were already buddy-buddy long before that."

"I know I kid around a lot about those two chucklefucks, but it's crazy when it's actually real…"

"Are we going in or not?" said Niffty from her perch on the floor.

"No!" said the duo in unison.

…

Before long, Charlie had fallen asleep to the soft chitter of his staticky radio voice.

Alastor trailed off, distracted by the troubled expression adorning his companion's face. A heartbreaking sigh escaped her lips.

He has seen her sleeping many a time before this, dreamily and at ease. But there was something different about this time. Her burdened emotions manifesting even in her sleep.

Alastor felt a little out of his element this time when it came to comforting the demoness. Yes, he's done it before, he sang her out of a rut, squeezed her cheeks until she laughed, goaded her into fighting. But how do you mend a broken heart?

Has he had one himself? At least, not one that he would ever admit to, even internally.

What did he know about heartbreak, indeed.

He had said that in the moment to the demoness, some inkling of his life that he still refused to share. Some secrets he kept even from himself.

The demon clutched at the fabric above his wound, its pounding a constant reminder of its blackness coursing through him. Though it sometimes felt wrong to refer to it so darkly. There was something radiant about the pain that struck him when Charlie sobbed. Something powerful and magnetic that drew him closer to her. Urged him to reach out and hold her. The Mark didn't just pulse darkness and evil, but some sort of light. Like the two sides were fighting for dominance inside of him and he was trapped in the middle.

Alastor's smile grimaced and he stood to go. Charlie would be back to her old self in no time, he just knew it. A light like hers was impossible to snuff out, though it was dimmed for now. He'd do what he could to coax her from the shadows. The hotel couldn't fall to the wayside so soon after getting off the ground.

"Sleep well, my darling." He planted a gentle kiss upon her pale, pallid forehead, his stomach twisting at the gesture. What a sap, he thought wearily. It was the Mark, it was the Mark, he chanted in his mind as he power-walked away from her. Excuses, excuses, excuses.

Alastor gave Charlie one last glance before he whipped open the door and three bodies stumbled inside in a tangled heap. Each intruder offered him a guilty grin.

His glare turned murderous.

…

Charlie slept unsoundly that night, her dreams plagued by the nightmare of her horrid break-up. Despite how cordial it ended, the sourness of their argument still played on a loop. She couldn't help analyzing every moment, every sentence, every facial expression for some meaning or opportunity for a different outcome.

She didn't want to leave her bedroom, opting to slowly drag herself from her bed into her desk chair and working there. Whatever work meant to her nowadays. She looked over activity ideas, scoffed at them, and then returned to bed when she lacked the energy.

Her limbs felt like iron. Tears at a constant risk of starting out of nowhere. Her pillow became her sole source of comfort.

There was a light tapping at the door, and Charlie groaned, not surprised by the visitor. She had been plagued by many over the last few days. All offering their own version of consolation.

It wasn't at all who she expected.

Shawshank the pachyderm was standing sheepishly out in the hallway, his large form taking up the width of the doorframe.

"Shawshank?" she questioned, bewildered.

"Mistress Morningstar, good morning," he said professionally.

Charlie frowned at the title. "You can just call me Charlie," she replied, shuffling awkwardly and attempting a polite smile. "Sorry you have to see me like this. How can I help you?"

"No apology necessary, I heard about what had happened between you and Mistress Vaggie. I am so sorry about that."

"Oh, right… thank you."

"I can relate to the feeling. Before my death, my wife of twenty-two years left me. I was in a pitiful state for months!"

"Wow, twenty-two years…I'm sorry…how did you get over it?"

"I'm not sure I ever fully did. But I do know that you won't feel this way forever. Every day was a new opportunity to stand up and try again and face the beast. Sometimes I even made it a game. Like, "what can I do today to stick it to my sadness?"

Charlie nodded, listening.

He continued, "I feel that way even here, like my work to continue on continuing on had never ceased even after death. Your hotel allows me this. The space to get up every morning with a new goal in mind, some work to do."

Charlie was struck momentarily speechless. "Shawshank, I–"

The old elephant demon chuckled. "Pardon the philosophizing. I just wanted you to know that we're all still rallying behind you. Master Husk and the other hotel staff have been very accommodating! And we await your return."

Tears began to flow, Charlie clutching at her cheeks in shock and sadness. She didn't even know what to say to him, awed and touched by the hotel guest's gesture. How weren't these sinners in Heaven already?

Charlie quickly composed herself, wiping the wetness on her sleeve and sniffled. "Thank you, Shawshank, I appreciate it. I'll…I'm…I understand," she finished.

"Of course, Miss, do feel better."

Charlie nodded and the pachyderm moved as if to depart. He stopped mid-stride and turned back, a large finger pointed up in remembrance.

The blonde looked up, questioning.

"Ah, I nearly forgot. Someone is at the front door… some fish-like man. He went by Sebastian? Levy? Something of the sort."

"Oh, a guest?"

Charlie mulled the name in her head, having it roll over her tongue. "Sebastian…" she murmured.

Her eyes suddenly rocketed open, as wide as dinner plates at the realization.

"SEVIATHAN!"

…

Charlie sprinted down the stairs, having combed her hair with her fingernails and brushed her wrinkled suit out to the best of her ability as she ran.

She couldn't believe she forgot about Seviathan's arrival to the hotel. It seemed like a distant memory that she had even decided to take him in at Vox's behest.

She felt like the worst!

At the top of the stairs, she spotted him, almost exactly as she remembered, his signature top-hat still in place. It nearly warmed her heart to see an image of the past, a reminder of another more simpler time.

But it couldn't have been the worst possible time for him to arrive. An ex-boyfriend of hers arriving mere days after her latest relationship had just imploded. It felt somewhat like being kicked while she was down. And on top of that she now had to put on her most charming and professional act so as to impress upon him the importance of the hotel, when all she wanted to do was curl up and cry.

The ex in question entered into the lobby, and was immediately surrounded by a scattered group of people.

"Sev!" Charlie called, catching his attention. She came downstairs, her brain firing in every direction. She couldn't believe he was here.

A few folks in the lobby acknowledged her arrival, happy to see her out of her room, but were mostly distracted by the colorful new guest.

She skidded to a stop in front of the fellow Hellborn, rubbing the back of her head. Charlie wasn't sure whether to hug him or shake his hand.

"Who?" asked Husk, appearing nearby.

"It's Seviathan Von Eldritch, sir." He tipped his tall hat in the direction of all the gathered guests and staff and fell into a low bow.

Angel immediately pushed past Husk. "Hey hotshot, you looking for some fun?" He waggled his eyebrows and looked him up and down, liking what he was seeing.

"Angel, this is Sev, we dated in Hell school." Charlie introduced quickly.

"Oh, that's a bit of a turn-off."

Niffty jumped on him. "You look bad, our last bad boy was a disappointment. Will you be better?" She pouted.

"Niffty, please!" Charlie begged, trying to maintain her composure as she plucked the little maid from his shoulder.

Seviathan chuckled after their antics, seeming not the least bit shaken. He finally looked Charlie up and down and a pointy smile grew on his face.

"Charmer! It's been too long!" He opened his arms wide and Charlie found herself swept up into a hug.

Seviathan put her down and Charlie brushed some hair behind her ear, feeling weird from the sudden attention. She summoned some strength. "So, uh, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! It's so great to have you, er– to visit?" She coughed into her fist.

She wanted to literally die with how awkward she was being.

"Sev," she began again. "This is Angel Dust, a guest here at the hotel."

"You might've heard of me, cutie," purred the spider demon, extending a slinky hand in greeting.

Seviathan chuckled and shook his hand firmly. "Likewise, sweetheart."

Angel swooned at that.

"And this is Niffty, our housekeeper," Charlie continued, gesturing to the hyperactive maid who was bouncing on her toes with excitement.

"Hey there, handsome!" Niffty chirped, flashing Seviathan a bright smile.

Seviathan's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Well, aren't you adorable!"

Niffty kicked her pointed toe, bashful.

"Er– this is Husker, our bartender!"

They shook hands, Husk offering a half-smile. "You better watch out for her," he indicated Niffty.

Charlie continued the introductions, trying her best to maintain an upbeat demeanor. Forcing herself to focus when her mind kept drifting to the fact that there was a crucial member of the hotel currently missing (or two technically…)

Once everyone was good and acquainted, Charlie clapped her hands together once, the universal sign of 'welp…' "So! What brings you here exactly?" she opted to say. "Vox wanted you to visit?"

"I asked Voxy to get me an in! I saw you on TV, after the last extermination. Holy shit, that was insane. And I can't believe you went into hospitality! You could've done literally anything else."

"Voxy?" Charlie asked, confused by the moniker.

"Yeah, my dad owns the building that Vox runs his little shindig out of. He could never say no to me!" He laughed, green teeth gleaming.

Charlie chuckled, a nervous laugh, but was gladdened all the same to see an old face. Seviathan didn't seem so different from how she remembered him. He was fun in his own way, if not a little too much sometimes.

"So why did you want an in?" Charlie internally smacked herself. She should be showing him around and describing her mission statement for the hotel! But she couldn't help but ask, her mind still wandering after days of tearful rumination.

"Well, duh, Charmer, I wanted an excuse to see you! And I didn't think I could just waltz in here like some big shot, even though that's exactly what I am…" he grinned at the surrounding company, hoping for a laugh. They all just looked blankly at each other. "No–" he cleared his throat. "Actually, I wanted to see what rehabilitation for redemption looked like. I, too, fancy myself a trip to Heaven."

"Heaven?" the hotelier asked, still quite confused by his answer. "But Sev, you can't be redeemed, you're Hellborn."

"Who says! There's nothing that says I can't."

"But it wouldn't make any sense…" Charlie mumbled, trailing off.

"Redemption on its own is already a crazy concept, don'tcha think?"

Charlie kicked her toe at the ground, feeling a little insecure. Usually she would have everything in her backpocket to defend redemption to Hell and back, but she was lacking the gumption in her current state.

But luckily, she was saved. A red figure dashing quickly to her rescue.

Alastor appeared then, black smoke and all, and he immediately towered over the green-coated Seviathan, looking slightly larger than life.

"My, you must be our latest rabble-rouser! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel," Alastor's grin spread thickly, a bit too sinister to be exactly welcoming.

"Holy shit!" Seviathan reared back, laughing. "You're the Radio Demon! Oh my saints, you're exactly how Voxy described!" He doubled over, pointing at Alastor and slapping his knee while everyone else stared in horror.

Alastor's smile immediately tightened. "So this is who you get out of bed for, my darling belle," he said through clenched teeth.

"Darling belle? You talking to me?" Seviathan asked, wiping a tear from his eye. He looked at Alastor's twitching face and then at Charlie's embarrassed one, and watched the pair exchange looks. "Ooooh, right, I get it, I get it. So you two," he pointed a sharp finger at both of them, "...are fucking? Vox failed to mention that."

"Oh my gosh, noooo!" wailed Charlie, running her palms down her face as it erupted into red. "This is Alastor, my facilities manager! He runs the hotel with me!"

"Uh-huh, suuuure," drawled Seviathan, smirking, but it lacked an edge. "I could always read you like a book, babe."

"This guy is gonna be fun," whispered Angel to Husk who grimaced in response.

A dark aura suddenly loomed around Alastor.

"Actually Sev," Charlie gulped, feeling the need to be honest. "I just got out of a relationship recently, with my girlfriend, so I'm sorry if I'm a bit flustered. I want to–"

"Wait, did you say girlfriend? Woah, I didn't know I ruined guys for ya!" Sevianthan winked and laughed again, a sound that was both endearing and grating depending on the listener. His demeanor sobered right after. "Just kidding, I'm sorry to hear that."

"Heh…" the demoness chuckled, not sure how else to respond. This was becoming overwhelming. "Um– Let me give you the tour…" she diverted the conversation and turned, stiff as a board, intending to lead.

"Nonsense! As the facilities manager, I should be the one to show our charming new visitor around the hotel!" said Alastor, eagerly inserting himself, the dark mist lifting. "Be a dear and head back to your quarters, I can take it from here…" he said, a blackness to his tone.

"Nah, I want Char-Char to take me around!" Seviathan looped an arm through hers, catching the demoness off guard. "It's been literal decades since I've seen you, I want all the time I can get."

"Er- Um–" stuttered Charlie. She looked at the two demons. This first meeting was really being bungled. But not one to look weak in front of a guest/potential investor/old flame, Charlie steeled herself. "It's okay Al, I can manage."

Alastor's expression was immediately unhinged, his claws pulsing with the urge to rip something apart. But he relaxed and returned a smile. "If you insist, my dear."

They all watched the former couple go, Niffty following them from behind for whatever reason.

Seviathan's loud voice could be heard echoing through the hallways, completely unphased. "Wow, he's pretty wild, huh? No wonder Vox has such a hate-boner..."

Once they were out of earshot, a collective sigh went up from the crowd.

"My, what a scoundrel! But if he isn't just a wee bit dashing, eh?" said Ama, chuckling to herself, very different from her usual sheepish appearance.

"I would say he seems like far more trouble than he's probably worth," retorted Shawshank.

"Is he more of a fish or a snake?" Pete the Poisoner asked to no one in particular.

"I want him inside me," contributed Angel, a dreamy expression on his face.

Husk just looked disquieted. "Here we go again…"

Alastor's hands tightened around his cane and his smile stretched into a thin line. He couldn't seem to shake off the feeling of irritation that bubbled within him.

This was who was going to be staying with them for the unforeseeable future? This is who Vox has sicc'd on the hotel? If he didn't know better, he would think that Vox did this on purpose just to vex him. But the TV demon couldn't possibly have known the effect it might have on the Radio Demon to see Charlie with a former flame.

Alastor shook himself of the thought. Obviously the fish demon was annoying for several reasons. Him being close to Charlie was only one of them. Seviathan also did not seem to be cowed by his presence at all, unlike Lucifer who was so easy to get under his skin.

Alastor was already planning fifty different ways to banish the fiend from the hotel, and it'd only been ten minutes.

"What'd you make of that, boss?" Husk asked, eyeing Alastor warily.

"What do I make of that crude little oaf?" scoffed the deer demon, giving it a moment's thought. "I give him a week."

"A week until what? He leaves the hotel?"

A whine of feedback rose in crescendo from Alastor's cane, while his voice dripped with crackling static, "Until I rend him limb from limb."

...

AN: Happy almost New Year :) Thanks for reading