Inside the pan, the fried eggs made a soft sizzling sound, their edges curling slowly to a perfect color.
The scent of butter wafted through the kitchen, mingling with the savory aroma of bacon, the toasted fragrance of bread, and the bitter hint of coffee drifting over from the bar.
Moon stood before the stove, wearing Charlie’s pink apron tied around his waist, flipping the last egg.
The morning light filtered through the grimy glass, landing on his rolled-up sleeves and white shirt.
The sound of shuffling footsteps came from the stairs.
“Smells so good.”
Charlie walked down, rubbing her eyes.
Her blonde hair, usually kept so tidy, was a tangled mess.
She wasn’t fully awake yet, her voice thick with sleepiness.
Vaggie followed behind her.
Her pace was light, but her expression wasn’t great.
It seemed she hadn’t slept much last night.
“Good morning.”
Moon plated the fried egg and picked up the tray.
“I made something simple.
Have a seat.”
He set the items on the table one by one.
“Miss Charlie, your latte.
Vaggie, black coffee.”
He paused there, looking at Angel, who had just dragged himself off the sofa.
The spider wasn’t fully conscious yet; his top two hands were rubbing his face while the bottom two stretched.
He was wearing an oversized black T-shirt and shorts, his white fur a disheveled mess.
He looked even more haggard than he had the night before.
“I want black coffee too.
The bitterer the better.”
Angel pulled out a chair and sat down, burying his face in his arms.
“As long as it wakes me up, I don’t care if it’s the kind of shit that’d poison a horse.”
A cold snort came from the bar.
“Then why don’t you go lick some industrial waste from Asmodeus’s factory?”
Husk had appeared behind the bar at some point, flipping through the day’s liquor stash while tossing out his usual merciless remarks.
“Don’t be so mean, Husk.”
Charlie let out a yawn and pulled out a chair to sit.
The moment she took a bite of the fried egg, she perked up.
She took another bite, her speech speeding up.
“Moon, how do you even do this?”
“It’s just a matter of controlling the heat.”
Moon poured himself a glass of water.
He didn’t sit down, choosing instead to lean against a nearby cabinet and watch them eat.
Niffty was still unable to stay still, scurrying around the table with her plate.
Having her mouth full didn’t stop her from talking.
Husk didn’t say much, though his hands were quick; he even pushed his booze aside while he ate.
Angel ate much faster than usual, his plate emptying in no time.
Once finished, he strangely didn’t follow up with his usual nonsense, instead leaning back against his chair with a vacant look in his eyes.
The atmosphere at the dining table was relaxed.
The clatter of cutlery against porcelain, the sound of chairs scraping across the floor, and the occasional bits of small talk—these were the most authentic parts of the Hazbin Hotel.
But everyone knew this relaxation was only temporary.
Because Angel’s phone wouldn’t stop vibrating.
*Buzz—buzz—buzz—*
One after another, the vibrations were an irritating persistent nag.
Every time it rang, Angel’s shoulders tightened a bit more.
He didn’t answer it, nor did he pick it up to look.
He just stared blankly at the ceiling, his expression growing grimmer by the second.
Finally, he stood up abruptly.
His chair made a piercing screech against the floor.
“As much as I’d love to stay and help you guys wash dishes or whatever, I gotta get to work,” he said, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair.
Charlie put down her fork and stood up as well.
“You’re going back to Valentino’s?”
“Where else?
To church for morning mass?”
Angel shook out his coat and pulled it on.
“If I don’t show up, he’ll lose it.
I’m the one who’ll suffer for it.”
Charlie took a few steps toward him.
“I’m going too.”
“What?” You are reading on g.com, the official source.
“I’m coming with you.
I’ll wait for you downstairs.
Maybe he’s in a good mood today, and I can…”
Angel sighed, waving his upper hands dismissively.
“Save it, Charlie.
That’s Valentino, not Santa Claus.
You saw him yesterday.”
“That’s why I’m trying again today.”
Charlie grabbed his hand, her grip tight.
“I won’t let you face that bastard alone.”
Angel looked down at her hand.
His lips moved, but in the end, he didn’t say anything harsh.
“You really aren’t afraid of getting yelled at, are you?”
“I’m scared, but I still have to go.”
“Suit yourself.
But don’t expect him to give you the time of day.”
Angel let her pull him toward the door.
The door opened, then shut with a heavy thud.
The room felt significantly emptier.
The warmth from before lingered, but the atmosphere had vanished.
Husk, unphased by the scene, stuffed the last piece of bacon into his mouth and carried his plate back to the bar, pouring himself a drink.
Only Moon and Vaggie remained at the table.
Vaggie stared at the door for a while, her fingers drumming twice on the tabletop.
“Do you think it’ll do any good this time?”
Moon took a sip of water, looking out at the sky that had suddenly turned overcast.
“If it worked, Hell would have been empty a long time ago.”
Vaggie was amused by her own naive question.
“Pfft, true.”
Moon slowly gathered the plates.
“Well then, we need to prepare this afternoon.”
A look of understanding flashed in Vaggie’s eyes.
“The fashion show?”
Moon nodded, stacking the plates.
“Timing is everything.”