Your Star (Vox x reader)

22

The walk to the hotel was short but enjoyable nevertheless. Making conversation seems to come naturally to Angel Dust; there was not one moment of awkward silence along the way. I mainly listened to him as he ranted about what it's like working for Valentino, and from what I understood, he is put through an awful lot, to say the least. Though I was spared the fine details, there's no question he has it hard. He and I are similar in that sense, both of us confined by the terms of a soul-binding deal, even if he likely has it much worse.

I spotted the hotel from a distance, but by the time we reached the path leading up to it, I was left marveling at the incredibly extravagant building before my eyes. The sight certainly doesn't fall short of my expectations. After all, it belongs to the princess of hell. She must've had plenty of money at her disposal.

Angel Dust plants his hands on his hips, turning his head to me with a half-sided smile. "Not bad, huh? And I live here."

An impressed huff leaves my lips. "Must be a dream."

"If drugs were allowed, then hell, yeah, it would be," he remarks with a laugh. "That's the price of redemption, apparently."

I glance at him, receiving the hint that he may not exactly believe in the concept. "Honestly, I never bought into the whole redemption idea. Do you?"

"Eh, not really... but the company's nice. So, I've got a decent reason to stick around," he says.

With a short nod, I follow him toward the entrance. He pushes open the large door and offers me a first glance at the hotel's interior, whose walls align with dark reds and golds. Amongst the calming atmosphere, there's a chilling emptiness. The lack of sinners is almost concerning, as I only see one other person in the room apart from Angel Dust and me. A short man with overalls stands behind what appears to be a bar, greeting me with his large cat ears and wings. Such a combination causes my brows to scrunch in confusion since it's impossible to pinpoint exactly what he is. Maybe, a hybrid. 

Before I get the chance to introduce myself, a fuzzy ball of red darts into my vision. I lower my head upon feeling a pair of arms latch around one of my legs. A familiar face stares up at me, and I initially question where I've seen that maid outfit.

"You again!" Her giggles are what provoke my remembrance. It was just last night when I nearly died of her knife. The googly-eyed menace wasn't intending to kill me, though. Rather, a harmless bug on the side of a building wall. "Did you come to see my bugs?"

"Uhh..." my voice trails off, and I look to Angel Dust as a silent plea for help.

He exhales a heavy sigh, pointing to the floor. "Niffty, off."

Much to my relief, the maid named Niffty listens without question. She releases her death grip on my leg and scurries elsewhere in the lobby. I'm assuming she works here, at the hotel. It's a true coincidence.

Angel Dust rotates his head in different directions before setting his gaze on the supposed bartender. The idea of a bar, might I add, in a place of rehabilitation is certainly a questionable choice. "Where's the princess and her chick?"

"Out lookin' for guests. They'll be gone for a while," the low, gruff voice responds.

Assuming he's referring to Charlie Morningstar, I'm slightly disappointed. I would've been interested in meeting her.

A stained rag is held in the bartender's hand and rubs against a glass. He raises a brow, gesturing his head in a nod toward me. "Who's your friend?"

"Y/n," Angel Dust answers for me. "And she's not here to be redeemed, so don't ask. Met her at work."