Michael sits himself on the couch right beside Angel, keeping a reasonable distance between him and the spider demon. Especially since they seem to enjoy occupying the entire thing, sprawled like they owned it. Maybe they did, he doesn’t know much about the Hazbin Hotel. Shifting a bit he turned his head to the side and looked at the sinner. “Hello, I’m Saint Michael. You’re Angel, right?” The one Charlie used as an example in Heaven.
sharp eyes flicker over the newcomer, narrowing ever so slightly at the intrusion. this couch was his, after all - well, at least it felt like it. every inch of this place screamed “free real estate” to him the moment he'd moved in, and so he'd claimed this little spot, a perfect view of the bar and it's tender, where he could stretch out as luxuriously as he did now, one leg draped over the armrest, his extra set of arms lazily sprawled over his lap.
the name—saint michael—made his brows twitch up in amusement, lips curling into a smirk that carried the kind of confidence only a seasoned sinner could wear with ease. he would of challenged the man, had it not been painfully obvious from his appearance that he was related to lucifer. it was either that or he'd lost some 'lucifer lookalike' contest down the street.
❛ yeah, that's me doll, the one and only. ❜ he drawled, his voice dripping with a combination of both playfulness and irritation as he looked over the angel once more. ❛ what, ya want an autograph or somethin'? didn't know saint's were allowed ta watch porn. ❜
then again, he didn't know they could apparently visit hell either.
