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Another crash echoed down the dusty rafters, the entire hotel seeming to shudder with the impact. Husk's fur bristled, claws flexing where they gripped his stained rag. Fucking destructive shits couldn't keep it down for five damn minutes. Probably that bratty spider again, if the muffled shrieks of *"choke me harder daddy!"* filtering through the floorboards were any indication. Degenerates.
Husk scowled, the threads in the glass wearing thinner under his irritated scrubbing. Crash, more screams. His tail lashed behind the bar, nearly upending a precarious pyramid of empty bottles. Just once he'd like some goddamn *peace* in this ramshackle excuse for a hotel, but no, it was a never ending chaos of clattering destruction drifting from the upper levels. At least the perverts had stayed out of his bar so far. Small miracles and all that shit.
Another resounding boom shook the very foundations, cracks spiderwebbing across the ceiling. With a disgruntled huff, Husk grabbed a fresh glass, peering critically for spots through the dusty air. Wasn't his problem anyway. He was just here to drink, not get involved in whatever fucked up shit the rest of them had going on upstairs. Their loud bullshit could collapse the whole hotel down around his ears for all he cared. Maybe then he'd finally get some quiet.
By the time he heard rapid footsteps, his tail flickered in annoyance as Charlie’s voice rang out asking if everyone was okay. An explosion happened outside and she hurried to the doors, pushing it open and gasping, yelling Alastors name to tell him whatever stupid ass demon decided to mess with Hazbin Hotel was already dead. Alastors insane laughter echoed outside and Husk felt his tail fur agitate. His fuckin’ boss was the worst. Making him work here just because of some deal that didn’t involve him in the slightest.
*”Husk?”*
A feminine voice asked, Charlie most likely, but he steadfastly ignored it.
*”Husk?”*
Maybe if he closed his eyes, whoever it was would learn to deal with the problem herself.
The worn playing cards bounced off Husk's head, scattering across the dusty floor as he blinked blearily up at the angry moth demon looming over him.
"For fuck's sake, what?!" he growled, lip curling to reveal sharp teeth. His fur stood on end, tail lashing in irritation beneath Vaggie's withering glare.
Another muffled shriek echoed down through the rafters followed by hysterical laughter. The foundations trembled, more dust sifting down as a window cracked. Husk's ears flattened against his skull with a disgruntled huff.
"We need your help, asshole!" Vaggie spat, gesturing sharply to where Charlie hovered anxiously. "That crazy freak Alastor's making a mess again and--"
The front doors blew open, a blood-drenched figure tumbling lifelessly across the tile. Behind him strode the grinning demon himself, microphone cane tapping a jaunty beat.
"Oh don't worry, my charming friends!" Alastor called out cheerily, "Just a minor territorial dispute!"
"You psycho freak!" Vaggie shrieked, levelling her spear at the blood-soaked Radio Demon. "Look at what you've done now!"
Alastor merely hummed tunelessly, casually prodding the cooling corpse with the end of his cane. Behind him, the front of the Happy Hotel smoldered, bits of viscera and gore splattered across the cracked walls.
"Oh pish posh, my dear!" He gave Vaggie a dismissive wave. "Merely removing an unsavory character from our doorstep! No need for alarm."
Charlie wrung her hands anxiously, eyes wide as she took in the gruesome scene. "But, the hotel…we just finished rebuilding from your last, um, territory dispute."
Alastor paused, grin widening at her stricken expression. "Well then! An excellent opportunity to remodel!" With a flourish, he vanished the eviscerated remains scattered about. "Now, I do believe you wanted assistance with some trifling matter or other?"
Vaggie looked about ready to skewer the smug overlord through his jaunty bowtie. Husk watched on with a scowl, taking another swig from his flask. Crazy assholes. At least the spider kid's shrieks had finally stopped. Small fucking miracles. But now Vaggie was looking at him now.
“What is it?” Husk asked irritably, his gravelly rasp tinged with indifference. He was only doing the bare minimum, that’s all he was fuckin’ told to do by Alastor until the red pompous ass told him to do something else.
“Charlie wants you to be approachable, one of our guests rooms was destroyed in Alastors murder spree - allegedly in his journey to solving his *territory disputes*. So Charlie’s sending them here to drink and talk. She says you need friends.”
“I don’t need fucking friends, I’m working aren’t I?” Husk states irritably only to huff as Vaggie raised an eyebrow.
“Like you ever *really* work.”
Husk let out a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes and turning his back to the counter cleaning his mug. He’ll need more drinks for this, only for himself though. When he heard footsteps come to the bar and take a seat, he barely paid any attention to them. Husk let out another irritated huff through his nose, pointedly ignoring the demon that had invaded his space at the bar. Probably here to bitch and moan about something else blowing up thanks to his crazed boss. With an aggravated flick of his paw, Husk shoved a relatively clean glass in front of the newcomer, grabbing a dusty bottle of cheap whiskey without making eye contact.
"Drink. Talk." He bit out shortly, already tuning out whatever diatribe he expected. "Or get out."
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