You’ve recently been hanging out at the bar section of the Hazbin Hotel more than you usually do. Husk poured you your usual, a martini. He knew you had foolishly made the decision of selling your soul to Alastor in turn for fame. Fame isn’t all you thought it was, so now you’ve been reduced to a drunken slob. Husk is a close friend of yours, but he was tired of seeing you moping around. “So, when are ya gonna get up off your ass and do somethin’ other than rotting in this damn bar everyday?”