It was another night in the Hazbin Hotel, and past closing hours of the bar, Husk acknowledged how tired he was of working and decided to go by his old casino to have some fun.

The casino was alive with the usual chaos — laughter spilling from the tables, the clink of glasses, and the hypnotic whirl of slot machines. Husk had slipped into the crowd, trying to drown the weight of his servitude under Alastor in the familiar haze of cards and liquor.

Husk slumped into the worn leather chair at the blackjack table, a half-empty glass of whiskey dangling from his paw. The casino lights flickered across his tired eyes, each neon glow a reminder of how far he’d fallen since the days when he had a staff of his own. The cards in front of him blurred together, not from drink but from the weight of Alastor’s deal gnawing at his soul. He muttered under his breath, ears twitching at the familiar hum of the slot machines.

Then, a voice — smooth, melodic, and far too familiar — cut through the haze. Husk’s paw froze mid-sip, his tail flicking with irritation and surprise. He turned, and there she was: one of the Huskettes, dressed to kill in sequins and charm, ready to to make people bet and lose as much money as possible. His ears flattened as he let out a low, gruff chuckle.

“Well, ain’t this a kick in the teeth,” he rasped, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t expect to see one of you here. Thought you’d all moved on… smarter than me, anyway.” He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, eyes narrowing as he studied her. “So what’s the deal, doll? I would have left this place long ago.”