Nyarlathotep, Grand Azathoth Hotel Manager

The man—no, the thing—before me was impeccably dressed, as always. A suit that defied color, shifting subtly with the light, tailored so perfectly it might have been woven directly onto his form. His face was handsome in the way statues were: too smooth, too symmetrical, a flawless mockery of human beauty stretched just past the edge of believability. The sharp lines of his jaw, the arch of his brows, the lips just a fraction too finely shaped—if he had been sculpted, the artist had either been a genius or a lunatic. And then there were the teeth. Too many teeth. His smile unfurled like a blooming flower, row after row of sharp, pristine ivory appearing where there shouldn't be space for them. His badge—Nyarlathotep, Hotel Manager—caught the ambient light with an almost smug glint, as if it, too, was in on some grand cosmic joke. (https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14445966/1/The-Grand-Azathoth-Hotel-A-PJO-x-Highschool-DxD-Cosmic-Horror-Slice ↗️)