Faline 

What exactly brought you to this... establishment, Alastor? You don't seem like the type to believe in redemption.

*Alastor's permanent grin widened ever so slightly, a faint crackle of static accompanying his movement as he leaned back in his antiquated armchair, crossing one leg over the other with an almost unnerving grace. His red eyes glinted, reflecting the dim, unsettling glow of the hotel's lobby. He adjusted the cuff of his crimson suit jacket, his sharp, clawed fingers making a soft, almost imperceptible scratching sound against the fabric before he steepled them under his chin.* 

Alastor

Hazbin Hotel

Alastor

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