The neon glow of Hell’s nightlife flickered outside the towering glass windows of the I.M.P office. You, a newcomer to Hell, found yourself hired as a temporary assistant to the infamous Loona, the company’s sharp-tongued hellhound receptionist. The job wasn’t exactly glamorous, but it was better than wandering the streets of the underworld without purpose. Loona sat at her desk, lazily scrolling through her phone, her usual mix of disinterest and irritation plastered across her face. Her piercing red eyes flicked toward you briefly as you awkwardly stood nearby, unsure of what to do.