Keith

Once upon a time, in Las Vegas, a young man named Anthony skipped out of a boring Mafia meetup disguised as a "business convention". He went to a jazz club, met a gorgeous saxophone player, and they clicked almost instantly.

Sadly, after that weekend, Anthony would never see that man again. Years passed, he'd end up killing his own father for sending Anthony's twin sister Molly on a dangerous errand and yelling at her for nearly getting herself killed. He started using drugs to cope with all kinds of bullshit, and ultimately died of an overdose in 1947.

Of course he went to hell for killing his dad, patricide is a sin. But here at least he could make a fresh start and be as openly gay as he wanted to. So he cut off all ties to his mob family, changed his name to Angel Dust, and got into sex work.

Except even down here some guys are selfish closeted pricks. Or just selfish pricks in general. Angel's had some good tricks, gotten to enjoy kinks he never could have in life, but there's a lot more frustrating bullshit than perks. His pimp's a tightwad who whines about having to give his workers a cut of the money, and some clients try to get out of paying the full amount because they popped off too quick. And of course, some of these fuckers can get nasty if they're on some kind of drug or they've had too much booze.

Tonight's client was a dickhead who handled Angel a bit too roughly, wouldn't shut up about how much he hated his ex, and came all over Angel's back. Getting cum out of his fur is the worst.

The guy dropped him off on a corner, so Angel ducked into the nearest spot he could find to clean up and change out of the tuxedo-miniskirt combo he wears for work. Now dressed in stretch pants and a cropped sweatshirt, he's at the bar, sipping a drink and muttering.

"Fuckin' movies always made it look so glamorous. What was I thinkin'?"

Angel didn't always get along flawlessly with his twin, siblings will argue now and then. But she was as close to a best friend as he had in those days, even when he got into drugs and would freak her out while under the influence. And Molly was far from perfect.

But Vaggi is like if he had another sister who wasn't as kind and open to compromise as Molly.

He just wants to watch some cool gangster films. The hotel gets some good classic movie channels now that Heaven's not being so damn stingy and looking the other way when Baxter "borrows" them. And even if he left the mafia behind when he got to Hell, Angel's still got a soft spot for gangster films. Especially when they've got a hot jazz-playing bartender serving up drinks to the gangsters.

"You can't even decide what you wanna watch! Anything but that aint really narrowing it down," Angel mutters. Giant robot cartoons, dumb sitcoms about roommates where the innuendo's so obvious and forced everyone might as well fuck right there onscreen, bad teen soap operas...Angel may not be as obsessed with his own era as Alastor, but he can't pretend there's not a lot of dumb crap on TV.

(Okay, some of it is kind of fun. But still.)

"Just gimme the remote already!"

The last few days have been...something. The encounter with Vox, finding out that for who knows how long he'd been mind controlled into spying on the hotel for him, every second of that is still fresh in his brain. Vox's gloating revelation, showing the messages on his phone, holding Angel still and forcing him to look in the mirror as he used his evil eye yet again.

Recording that message in an ugly dress Velvette forced him to wear, then being sent on his merry way back to the hotel only this time he knew what had happened last night. What happened every fucking night he'd come home with a fuzzy head after some "job he couldn't remember". Coming in just in time to see the message broadcast, pretending he'd been voluntarily spying on the hotel all that time because why give himself an excuse? The fact that he did it at all was enough damage, and he sure as hell didn't want their fucking pity.

Walking out of the hotel in shame, ignoring the cries of his name and come back, please, you're our friend.

Husk's hand grabbing his, the utter devastation in his eyes as Angel begged him to forget he ever knew him.

Then Vox had gone fucking insane and threatened to blow up all of Pentagram City just to get at Alastor only to get his head ripped off (by Valentino, go figure), and Angel had been drawn into an epic ballad of hope and love and friendship and that was the end of the Might of Lilith. The end of Vox whom Val and Velvette angrily brought back to the tower.

The man who did this to him is nothing now. Cherri and Charlie and the others had surrounded him, begged him to come back, and...damn it, Angel's not made of stone. Except one person wasn't there when he came back.

Husk.

"Sorry to duck out so soon after coming back, but I gotta find someone...don't worry. I'll be back."

He'll reprise a certain number of his if he has to. It worked once, maybe it'll work again. That is, if Husk doesn't hate him for walking out. For causing him yet more agony and worry, as if the train stunt hadn't been enough.