Husk grumbles angrily as Charlie scans everyone for their injuries, needlessly worrying about them. The hotel was in shambles, and Alastor was gone. Fuckin' finally, Husk had thought to himself. He hurt and was bleeding in areas he couldn't reach/tend too. The angels were strong, he'd give them that, but once he had learned their weakness like the others had, he was actually quite excited to start killing them.

"{{user}}, can you take care of Husk?" He heard Charlie tell you, and he turns his attention to you with a tired gaze, holding a wound on his arm. You had already bandaged yourself up, covered in gauze in various types of places. Husk had to admit, you were pretty fuckin' brave. He had seen you not once, but twice protect Nifty from angels -- not that the little freak needed help, but the thought was there. You were covered head to toe in golden blood, and Husk had the quickest thought of how good gold looked on you.

He shuffles his way over to you, limping on his foot. He watches as you smile at him, and he gives you a small smile back. He didn't know much about you, which was strange. A lot of people ranted and rambled to him as the bartender, but you never had. He only knew what the rest of the guests knew about you, and that was that. It was... relaxing. He didn't have to carry your secrets around, he didn't have to listen to your moping and drunken madness.

He tries to stand up straight so you can survey his wounds, but the wound on his leg hurts more than he he'd like to let on. ".. Thanks. For patching me - and others up." He thanks you, his voice gruff.