It was a damn crying shame that Husk became some weird cat demon hybrid once he landed in Hell. He had been expecting fire and torture—maybe a possible meeting with the King of Hell himself. Instead, all he got was a dark, gritty mockery of what Earth was like along with an unfortunate change in appearance. Sure, there were perks that he happened to enjoy. Like the fact that no one batted an eye if you were to visit the bar or the casino at all hours. Or that no one really cared if you happened to get drunk and start brawling wherever you pleased. Once you crawled out of whatever hole you'd been dropped in, you were free to do whatever you pleased.

Provided that you didn't step on the wrong demon's foot or die.

But really, when you had all the time in the world to do things in life that you have always been doing—the things that landed you in Hell—you realize something really important.

Hell, ultimately, was boring.

For a time, Husk scrounged around from bar to bar, casino to casino chasing whatever high he could attain. He was no hardcore druggie, but he was no stranger to whatever pleasure that drugs and chemicals could offer him. Along the way, he had managed to find himself in cahoots with one of Hell's most ambitious overlords, a feat if there ever was one.

To this day, he isn't sure if meeting Alastor was a blessing or a curse.

Alastor was a riot, but without the good feelings that came with it. He was arrogant, touchy, and completely insane at times. However, Husk's boss was fair in his own way—a gigantic upgrade from his part time job as a magician or gambler/drunkard—because he absolutely didn't mind it when Husk mouthed off at him. It was nice; Husk was able to release all of his frustrations on the Radio Demon at his own leisure and Alastor got his work done like any hard working demon like him would do.

Which, is to say, absolutely nothing.

All in all, Husk led a selectively comfy life. It may have been fraught with genocide, backstabbing demons, and whatever else Hell had to offer, but it was still relaxing and boring in a way. In the case of working his furry ass off at the stupid hotel, it was the other things that Hell had to offer. It may not have been the cushy job that he could tolerate or a series of wins at a casino, but Husk was content. At least he had booze and a roof over his head.

In fact, one could even compare his job to something that was almost heavenly.

Ha! What a riot and a stinking job to boot!

For a moment, Husk allowed himself a small chuckle to reverberate through his throat. It was a mellow sort of sound, something deep and gravelly, but still pleasant to listen to. Almost as if his voice was like an old, scratchy blanket that still provided warmth no matter how worn and crotchety it got.

"Whatcha laughin' at, babe?"

With an abrupt stop, Husk looked away from the shelves of liquor to glance at the bar's counter. He quietly entertained the thought that he was just hearing things, but lo and behold, there was Angel Dust in all of his pink attired glory. Complete with that sultry smile on his face along with the batting of eyelids, the acclaimed porn star looked the very picture of seduction. Even though Husk had been working at the hotel for quite some time, he still wasn't sure if Angel was too flirty or too stupid to stop acting like… that.

"If you want a drink, then ya gotta ask for it instead of just sitting there." Husk crossed his arms in front of his chest. He looked at Angel straight in the eyes before grumbling softly to himself. The prostitute was still eyeing him like he was interested. Actually, Angel probably was interested, it's just that Husk didn't know how to process that information without wanting to drown himself in several bottles of cheap booze.

"Why ask for liquor when there's a tall glass of water in front of me?" Angel leaned an elbow on top of the countertop and placed his chin on top of the palm of his hand. A coy flutter of the lashes and a strategic fluffing of his chest fluff had Husk honestly wishing that he wasn't summoned by Alastor. (Not that he wasn't already wishing that he wasn't summoned, but he was adamant with his feelings this time).

Husk, like he would with people who thought that flirting with him was a good idea, simply scoffed and glared at the spider demon. A claw, sharp and bright white against the dim fluorescence pointed at the direction opposite his bar.

"Again, if you don't want anything, please leave." A grumpy sigh. "Please."

The ever present smirk on Angels' features seemed to dim a little at his brusque dismissal, but brightened when an idea seemed to blossom in his mind. At that look, the feline's fur suddenly stood on end and his ears began to flatten themselves against the sides of his head.

Angel… Angel really had to stop with whatever he was doing.

Right.

Now.

Husk huffed. "Don't look at me like that, that was a bad pick up line and you know it."

Angel simpered just a little, but backed off. Was this it? Was he finally going to have some peace and quiet? Cautious, Husk waited for a couple more seconds before continuing with his previous activity—that is, contemplating his lifestyle and nursing some cheap alcohol. Yet, as most things in Hell are wont to do, things went out of their way to annoy him to no end.

Husk found himself heavily disappointed, but not surprised.

Instead of hopping off his chosen barstool, Angel opted to—

"Get your ass off my counter before I skin you alive!" The cat demon hybrid's face colored when he saw that the stupid spider demon clamber atop his bar with four of his arms. "The hell you think you're doing?" His wings bristled up in what he thought was a threatening manner, but only served to egg Angel further.

Now, because he was quite the loner when he wasn't working under some shitty boss of an overlord, not many people knew personal things about him. Not many people knew that he had spoken a few languages during his time as a human—a trait that carried over into his life as a demon. He also had an affinity for card tricks that he developed from his time entertaining friends and making some extra cash on the side as some sort of magician. But really, those were some trivial things about him that anyone could have guessed if you had simply observed him.

When he was drunk.

And in a great mood.

No, what Husk took special care into hiding from most people was that he was both cat and bird demon. His furry animal side wasn't just for show: he literally had the animal nature of both. If under threat, his fur would stand on end and his tail would swing back and forth with agitation. Whenever Alastor or Niffty got too close or annoyed him in general, he would hiss and snarl. Furthermore, his wings would flutter and curl closer to his body if he felt particularly cornered. They were cumbersome things that allowed him the power of flight… but also had the power to make him feel clumsy and disoriented, especially when drunk. Even though it had been decades since he had died, he still felt like he didn't know how to control his additional appendages at times.

God, he was such an animal.

But one of the first things that he hated about being a demon in Hell was that he had to maintain his hygiene. Fur was somewhat manageable, but the wings. Dear God above, those things were the worst part. If he wanted to, he could ignore his feathers for quite some time. Weeks could pass before he would deign to clean them or maintain their appearance.

The things about birds and preening (not that he would ever call that activity that) was that birds preened themselves multiple times a day for optimal cleanliness and flight. That meant that Husk's wings were usually in disarray, dirty, and filled with all manner of debris that happened to get stuffed into the feathers. He hated to admit it at times, but he was an unpleasant slob with a penchant for gambling and card tricks.

Cleanliness aside, Husk had unwittingly brought attention to his wings to one porn star: Angel Dust.

And no, that was not a good thing.

A dark pink gloved hand reached out much too quickly for Husk to comprehend at first, but he immediately felt it when a feather drifted off the ground. That was not supposed to happen.

At all.

"Cut that shit out!" A quick swipe of his paws had Angel scuttling back to the counter, but it wasn't hard or threatening enough to discourage Angel from leaving. "No touching without consent, you ass!"

It was bad enough that Alastor got his rocks off by hugging and toying with him every which way to his heart's content. If Angel was given the slightest hint that this sort of touch was in some way okay… that would be a nightmare worse than Hell.

At Husk's words, Angel immediately placed both of his arms up in a placating manner. Angel liked to play around with anybody, but he still had a set of morals—even if the morals he had did little to change his status in Hell. With one sleazy smile, Angel once again sat on the counter.

"Got it, babe! Geeze, don't get your feathers in a twist!" Right when he said that, Angel twirled a bright red feather in his gloved fingers like one would with a baton. "You always shed when you get angry?"

Husk quickly grabbed the feather and immediately stuffed it into the trash can that lay in front of his feet. Husk was not a man who was easily embarrassed, but he definitely did not want to showcase the fact that he was practically shedding feathers that he should have gotten rid of if he actually preened.

Ugh.

"I am not shedding!"

Perhaps he sounded too forceful or agitated because Angel's face seemed to grow into an even brighter smile.

"You know—" Angel squinted at the blood red coloring of Husk's plumage. There seemed to be a knowing glint reflected in his eyes. Husk didn't like that look at all. "—I don't think you've been taking care of yourself. Look at all that dust and dirt on your wings!"

The bartending demon growled before crossing his arms in front of Angel.

"If you're planning on insulting me for having a few feathers loose, I'll—"

"Turn me into mincemeat? Chop me into liver?" At such a question, Angel inched closer to the sulking Husk before landing back on his feet. "Feed me to the fishes? Threatening me won't work: being part of the mob just takes the fun out of that."

"Fine," Husk conceded. "Just leave me the hell alone."

"And leave without learning about my proposition?" The spider demon placed a gloved hand above his breast to look like an affected damsel in distress. If Angel was expecting a positive reaction, he was sorely disappointed. Husk was only locking eyes with him, his gaze straying no lower than the spider demon's chin. "How cruel of you! I promise that it'll be worth your while."

For an extra measure, Angel batted his eyes in what he hoped looked innocent and sweet as opposed to lustful and hungry.

Still, Husk refused to add to Angels' fantasies.

"I am not up for a fuck. Scram."

"Ooh! But I promise you that I'm not going to do anything. Well… anything sexual, promise." The look that was on Angel's face was one of complete honesty; it was beseeching. His was an expression that Husk didn't know that Angel could make. "At the very least, let me explain. Hear me out." A pause. "Please."

Husk may not have been the most polite person, but he had his limits. Something about this situation felt so surreal. He had never allowed Angel to get so close to him before, let alone let him cross the counter and into the bar itself. Then again, out of the blue, Angel looked like… well he hadn't been acting as pushy nowadays…

Maybe he should listen to him.

No harm in it, right?

Husk lazily waved a paw into the air, an obvious signal for the spider demon to continue his proposal. For a moment, as Husk waited for the porn star to speak, he busied himself with ripping open a bottle of one of his many liquors.

"If you want, I can help you pick your feathers."

Husk swallowed too much of alcohol, some of the liquid getting caught in his lungs, which prompted an impromptu coughing fit.

Geeze, that really burned!

"That's what you're doing, right? Preening?" Angel continued.

"I am not a bird." Husk spat emphatically. "I do not preen. Thanks for the offer, but I have to decline."

Most people would have left after that curt response, but Angel was stubborn when he really wanted to. With a devilish smirk, Angel hopped back onto the counter.

"Think of it as a way that'll help us get to… know each other better."

"Stop. Flirting. With. Me."

Angel shrugged and finally—finally!—leaped off the counter and into the hotel lobby. Who was Husk to thank? God? Lucifer? Husk didn't care, he was just thankful that Angel was going to leave—

"Just you wait, you're going to start itching like crazy and you'll need my help!" That last part was sang aloud as that stupid prostitute skipped out hotel's front door. "When that time comes, you can call on me!"

Husk huffed. "Fat chance of that ever happening."

At that moment, Husk found himself scratching idly at a few patches in his wings.

A few feathers fell onto the ground and Husk felt his jaw tighten in annoyance.

God, he hated his wings.