Out of politeness and respect for the atmosphere currently forming between the two of them, Moon stepped back silently.
Angel hadn’t caught his breath yet.
Charlie sat beside him, her hand raised as if to pat his back, hovering for a long time before dropping back to her own lap to clench into a fist.
Moon walked back to Vaggie.
Vaggie didn’t turn her head, her gaze still fixed on the two on the sofa.
She spoke softly.
“She really needs this kind of goddamn positive reinforcement.”
She pursed her lips, her next words clearly reluctant.
“So, thanks.
I’m only saying it once.”
Moon gave a slight bow.
“Noted.”
Vaggie finally spared him a glance, but her expression immediately turned cold again.
“Don’t get cocky just because of a thank you.
Helping her today doesn’t mean I trust you.
If you ever use those skin-peeling tactics on Charlie, I will—”
“You’ll pull my intestines out and use them as a necktie,” Moon finished for her.
Vaggie glared at him.
“Right.”
Moon nodded.
“Fair enough.”
Vaggie huffed and said no more.
Over at the sofa, Angel finally spoke.
“Let’s get one thing straight: that bit just now?
It didn’t happen.”
Charlie replied immediately, “Okay, it didn’t happen.
Just breathe.
Don’t rush.”
Angel’s voice was muffled in his hands.
“I’m not rushing.
I’m just humiliating myself in stages.”
“Well, you’ve done a pretty thorough job of it.”
“Wow, how thoughtful.”
Charlie actually gave it some serious thought.
“Thank you?”
Angel let out a nasally laugh from behind his hands; it sounded miserable.
“And don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m about to shatter into a million pieces any second.”
Charlie sat up a bit straighter.
“I’m not.”
Angel took his hands away; his eyeliner was smudged in one spot.
“I’m not moved by your speech, Princess.
I’m just too lazy to find a new place.”
Charlie nodded.
“Fine.
Then keep being lazy.”
Angel turned to look at her.
“You’re really bad at talking.”
“I’m sorry,” Charlie replied instantly.
“I didn’t ask for an apology.”
“Then I take it back.”
Angel wanted to smile, but he held it in this time.
A dripping sound came from the coffee table.
Several pairs of eyes looked over.
A half-empty cup of coffee had tipped over at the corner of the table, liquid seeping into the carpet.
Husk looked down, his scowl deepening.
“Who did that?”
“Uh…” Charlie looked at herself, then at Angel.
“Maybe me?”
Husk said, “Great.
Another sin for the day.
And this stuff is harder to scrub out of a carpet than your actual sins.”
Before he could finish, a series of rapid thumps echoed from the stairs.
A red and black blur vaulted over the banister, flipped in mid-air, and landed on its toes right in front of the coffee puddle.
One eye, a rag, a maid outfit, and a terrifying smile.
Niffty.
Her single eye spun wildly, locking onto the coffee stain as her pupil shrank to a pinprick.
“Who did this?
Who was it?
A bad boy?
A dirty boy?”
Her rag slammed down, her hands moving so fast they were a blur.
“Wipe it!
Wipe it!
Wipe it all away!
No stains allowed!
This place must be clean!
Clean…
as death!”
Angel flinched back at the sheer manic energy, then realizing the movement looked too weak, he quickly sat up straight, wiping his face while critiquing: “Wow, how is this little psycho always so scary?”
“That’s Niffty.”
Vaggie introduced her to Moon with a sense of resignation.
“She’s our, uh…
cleaning supervisor?
Something like that.”
Niffty finished scrubbing the floor and looked up, scanning her surroundings before her gaze locked onto Moon.
She tossed the rag aside and zipped over to Moon, coming to a screeching halt at his feet.
“Who are you?
New guy?”
Moon didn’t move.
“For the time being, yes.”
Being so small, Niffty had to crane her neck all the way back.
“You’re tall.
I like that.
No bugs on you.
But I smell…”
She suddenly leaned in close to Moon’s trouser leg, took a deep sniff, and let out a series of sharp, neurotic giggles.
“…the smell of chaos!
Hee hee hee!”
Before the laughter even faded, she was gone, a whirlwind sweeping toward a stray bottle in the corner, scrubbing it with manic intensity.
Vaggie rubbed her temples and let out a heavy sigh.
“See that?
This is where you’re staying.”
She gestured to the room at large: an adult film star, a princess who wanted to run Hell like a summer camp, a cat about to move into a liquor barrel, and a manic-depressive obsessive-compulsive cleaner.
She looked at Moon.
“That’s the entire staff of the Hazbin Hotel.
Oh, and there’s one more dangerous guy, but better not to mention him.
It’s not too late to change your mind.
The door is right there.”
Moon reached down and picked up the rubber duck mug from the floor.
Niffty had already scrubbed it to a brilliant shine.
“It’s very considerate of you to leave the refund window open.
But compared to the outside world, I prefer dealing with a house full of people who wear their flaws on their sleeves.”
He placed the mug back on the table.
Vaggie watched him for a moment and said nothing.
Over there, Niffty had finally finished tidying.
Angel had been somewhat coaxed back to normal by Charlie.
Husk retreated behind the bar.
The hotel had finally managed to return to its version of “daily life.”
Charlie, however, hadn’t quite come down from her emotional high.
She kept looking at Angel, then looking for something to do, before suddenly remembering something.
She rushed over from the sofa, grabbed Moon’s wrist, and dragged him toward the bar.
“Husk!” she cried.
“Bring out the best ‘Hellfire’!
No, more than one bottle.
We need to celebrate today.”
Husk’s ear twitched.
He spoke lazily.
“A celebration in the middle of the afternoon?
Is business at this dump so bad we have to rely on a pretty boy to bring us some luck?”
Charlie ignored him and turned to Moon.
“Did you hear that, Mr.
Moon?
The best liquor!
What do you want to drink?
We have Flame Malt from the Wrath Ring, and we have some things sent from the Lust Ring—”
“A glass of lemon water, with honey.
Thank you.”
Moon interrupted her torrent of words, nodding politely toward Husk.
Charlie’s expression froze.
A flash of bewilderment crossed Vaggie’s eyes.
Husk picked at his ear.
“What did you say?”
“Lemon water.
With honey.
If it’s not too much trouble,” Moon repeated, his politeness impeccable.
Husk stared at him for a long time, then slammed his hand onto the bar.
“This is a bar!
A bar!
Not a goddamn tea room!
If you want that pansy shit, get the hell out and drink it somewhere else!
Why don’t you ask me to bake you some cookies while you’re at it?”
“If you were willing, I would be very grateful.”
“Fuck.”
Charlie waved her hands frantically.
“It’s okay!
I can go to the kitchen—”
Moon didn’t respond to her.
He simply shifted his gaze slowly toward a dust-covered glass jar in the corner of the bar containing a few lemons.
Then he tilted his chin toward the shelf behind, where a crushed honey bottle sat squeezed on the top tier, its label featuring a cute, stupid-looking bee.
Husk’s shouting came to an abrupt halt.
He followed Moon’s gaze, and his face immediately soured further.
This bastard in the suit could even see into those corners?
“Dammit.”
The cat demon cursed again, turning around with extreme reluctance.
He grabbed a fruit knife, stabbing a lemon as if it were an enemy, then sliced it and threw the pieces into a glass with unnecessary violence.
He grabbed the honey bottle and squeezed it for all it was worth.
The entire process radiated an intense “I’m extremely pissed off” aura.
Finally, a glass of lemon water of questionable color was shoved in front of Moon with a heavy *thud*.
Moon didn’t drink it immediately.
He first looked at the lemon slices being rehydrated by the hot water.
Then he looked at Husk’s “drink it or don’t” scowl and offered a gentle smile.
“A perfect thickness, sir.”
Husk blinked.
“Even when most reluctant, you still slice the lemons with such uniform precision.
That is a professional instinct that commands respect.” Moon picked up the glass and held it to the light.
“Thank you for the hospitality.”
Only then did Moon take a small sip.
The taste was sour and bitter, carrying the flavor of aged dust.
His expression didn’t change as he set the glass down.
Husk’s mouth hung open; he couldn’t find a comeback.
He just stared at the man, a look of pure bewilderment appearing for the first time in eyes that were usually full of world-weariness and disdain.
Angel spoke with a raspy voice from the sofa.
“Wow.
You’re a real smooth talker.”
Moon replied, “I’m simply expressing respect for the fruits of labor.”
“Listen to that.
He even knows how to dress it up.”
“Presentation is just a more expensive form of politeness.”
Charlie finally snapped out of the strange exchange.
She clapped her hands, trying to regain her momentum.
“Oh, right!
The room!
Since you’ve decided to stay, I need to get you settled.
We have plenty of empty rooms.
The best one is right next to Angel’s—”
As she said it, she decided it was a great idea.
“That way you can look out for each other and get to know one another.”
Silence fell over the bar.
Moon nearly choked on his second sip of lemon water.
He recovered and said, “Princess, your way of welcoming new guests is certainly…
bold.”
From the sofa, Angel offered a reminder.
“Just so you know: I scream in the middle of the night, I take long showers, and I’m allergic to cheap perfume.”
Moon raised his glass to him.
“It sounds like my stay will be very lively.”
“Great!
Then it’s settled!” Charlie said.
Husk poured himself a drink without looking up.
“Perfect.
The asylum is officially open for business.”