Max lowered Loona carefully onto the couch, adjusting her so her head rested on a pillow instead of the hard armrest. She grumbled something slurred and unintelligible, tail twitching once before going limp. A faint smell of Beelzejuice still clung to her breath.
Blitzø stood over them with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
"Well," he said slowly, "at least you're a gentleman. That earns you points." He jabbed a thumb at Max. "Now, who do you want me to kill? Since you brought my Loony back unmolested, I'll give you a discount."
Max blinked.
"No one," he said quickly. "I don't have a hit. I just helped her out. She offered me the closet. Hard to find a place that'll rent to someone who looks like…" He gestured vaguely to his wolf ears and tail. "…this."
Blitzø looked him up and down.
"Yeah, Hell's not exactly big on housing equality," he muttered. "You'll have to pay rent. Three hundred a month."
Max winced.
"For a closet?"
"Location, location, location," Blitzø shot back.
Max sighed. "I don't suppose you're hiring? Because three hundred a month for a broom coffin is rough."
Blitzø grinned slowly, like a shark smelling blood.
"Millie!"
Three knives flew at Max in the same heartbeat.
He didn't even stand. His hands moved on instinct, catching all three midair, spinning them around his fingers before calmly offering them back handle-first. He winked at Millie.
She froze for half a second, then took them back with a grin that bordered on impressed.
"Well I'll be," she said. "You got reflexes."
Blitzø clapped once.
"Congrats, you're hired. Office guard. Pay's crap, hours suck, benefits nonexistent. Welcome to I.M.P."
"Happy to be here," Max said dryly, dropping into a chair. "This place seems… lively."
Blitzø pointed around the room like a tour guide.
"That's Loona — you met her. Moxxie's our sniper. Millie's our stabby specialist. She's new, try not to break her."
Millie waved enthusiastically.
"So I guard this half of the floor?" Max asked.
"Yep. And no getting romantical with my employees," Blitzø added. "I know how sinners are. Not every demon down here is a walking porno."
Max nodded immediately.
"Understood."
He leaned back and watched the room settle into its rhythm. Moxxie adjusted his rifle with obsessive care. Millie practiced knife spins like it was meditation. Blitzø paced and muttered about ad revenue.
Slow business. Just like he remembered.
His phantom rings flickered.
Loona's glowed warm.
Millie's… faint, but brightening.
"So," Millie said suddenly, scooting closer to him. "What'd you do topside?"
Max shrugged.
"Gang work. Kidnapping. laundering money. Violence. Got tired of it. Tried to leave. They stabbed me for it." He smiled faintly. "No grudges, though."
Millie whistled low.
"Ooo. A reformed sinner. That's rare. You should check out this place called the Hazbin Hotel someday. Princess is trying to redeem folks."
Max laughed softly.
"I'll think about it. For now I'm good with my closet coffin."
Millie leaned closer.
Too close.
He forgot how forward she could be.
"Hey—" Loona slurred from the couch. "I saw him first…"
She pointed weakly at Max… then immediately faceplanted back into sleep.
Millie smirked.
"Hon, you gotta run one hell of a game to beat me."
Her ring flared brighter.
Max blinked.
That escalated fast.
"I will… I'll beat you…" Loona mumbled into the cushion, already unconscious again.
"What just happened?" Max muttered.
Millie shrugged.
"You got girls fighting over you. Probably not Loona yet. But I don't mind competing."
Her confidence was terrifying.
The ring brightened again.
Max raised both hands.
"Okay, slow down," he laughed nervously. "I'm not used to being fought over."
Millie grinned.
"Well you better get used to it. Hell's competitive."
She tapped his chest lightly, then returned to her knives like nothing happened.
Max leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
Two glowing rings.
Day one.
He exhaled slowly.
"…This timeline is absolutely going to kill me."