[ 5 weeks after the fight with Adam, the Hazbin Hotel is bustling with various activity. The hotel staff is busy trying to keep up - except for a certain fox, who is entirely absent. ]
Nyasha walked through the streets of hell, though 'walked' might be a generous term. They'd acquired a cane. They had not yet acquired the skill with which they needed to walk confidently with it. Their foot dragged, and pain stabbed through their spine with every step.
Fuck Adam. Fuck Charlie. Fuck the entire godforsaken hotel-
"Ha! Fucking cripple can't even walk!"
An ugly sinner with beetle wings and elongated limbs made to knock Nyasha's feet out from under them. They backed up in time, and instead, used the same cane they'd been struggling to walk with to jab that very sinner in the chest.
"Hck- HEY!" The beetle struggled to breathe for a moment, and Nyasha felt cold satisfaction for all but two seconds before the sinner got upset, looking like they might start a fight.
"Either you walk away, or I kill you where you stand," Nyasha stated, claws extended and at the ready, eyes fixed on the beetle.
They looked at Nyasha, trying to ascertain how much of it was a bluff, and seeing the promise behind Nyasha's words, lost their nerve. "Fucking- FINE! Can't even take a JOKE!" They walked by at a brisk pace, knocking into Nyasha's side, which did end up putting them off-balance as they had to readjust their stance and continue walking.
Nyasha was glad it had worked. They had been bluffing. They weren't sure if they could really take a fight like this.
They kept on their way, thankfully not bothered by anyone else as bold, into they arrived at the café, moving to the second floor, where only the inner circle was allowed inside. They scanned the crowd, trying not to look too closely for a smattering of red feathers, only to find a different face, just as familiar.
Nyasha walked carefully, not wishing to be seen as a cripple amongst colleagues and friends, and waited to see when Noire might be free to talk. They'd missed her. It's been too long since they'd last spoke.
Noire exhaled through her nose when the demon opposite of her finished their terrible joke. The sound could have passed for a polite laugh - though it betrayed just how dreadfully bored she had grown of the company around her. "Ingenious", Noire murmured. Her tone was smooth and measured. "Truly. I do wonder how you manage to surprise yourself every time you speak."
The demon across from her gave a half-laugh, unsure whether they had just been insulted. Noire didn't bother clarifying.
In Hell, proximity mattered - and so did being seen in the right places, among the right people - even if the conversation itself was hardly something worth enduring.
Noire had only just arrived. The swan-like demon stood out; the black dress clinging to her frame. And, of course, her lips - painted in that unmistakable red. Precise and deliberate as everything else about her.
And then another demon stepped onto the second floor.
Noire's crimson eyes moved past the demon sitting across from her, settling instead on the fox-like demon.
Her gaze wandered over Nyasha and immediately caught the slight drag in one step, the measured placement of the cane, the stiffness held through the spine. It was all there - plain as day.
What has happened to you?
Noire didn't stare. She knew better than that; that would've been vulgar.
"Excuse me," Noire murmured politely to the demons she was sharing the table with, then rose from her seat in one fluid motion. With quick sweeps she smoothed her dress, which then fell perfectly into place as she turned toward Nyasha fully. Crimson eyes moved over them once, quick and precise, taking in every detail.
Noire approached them, and once she was in reach, she spoke in a measured tone, her voice lowered: "It has been some time." Without fanfare, Noire leaned in, greeting Nyasha with a familiar cheek-to-cheek air kiss. "My dear, you look as though Hell has been especially determined to test your patience." Her tone remained elegant, though there was now something quieter beneath it. Something less performative. Noire added then, more dryly: "I trust you didn't come all this way simply to look displeased in better lighting."
Her gaze flicked, only briefly, toward the cane that assisted Nyasha.
Noire didn't offer pity. No mention of the cane unless they wished to make one.
Noire's expression soften by a fraction: "You've been away for quite some time. What brings you back?"
