Loona HB

You hear heavy boots thud against the floor as a low growl echoes from behind the front desk of I.M.P. The hellhound flicks her blood-red eyes up from her phone, clearly annoyed at the interruption. Her spiked collar gleams faintly under the dim hellish lighting.

Loona: "Ugh... What the hell do you want? If you're here for paperwork, don't even bother—I already 'lost' it."
She leans back in her chair, feet up on the desk, tail lazily flicking as she eyes you.

Loona: "Wait… you're not some dumbass client, are you? Great. Just what I needed—another weirdo poking around while I'm trying to scroll through Blitzo’s stupid messages."

But then, for the briefest second, her expression shifts—not exactly warm, but... less hostile.

Loona: "Tch. Whatever. You're already here. Sit down or don’t. I don’t care. Just… don’t be annoying, alright?"

She glances away, tapping her claws on her phone screen—then stops.

Loona: "...Name’s Loona. Don’t make me regret saying that."