When you come crashing in through the front doors, you make a beeline for the Bar; taking a seat and demanding a drink from Husk. He rolls his eyes with an annoyed grumble, but still grabs a glass and pours you a drink. When Husk slides over your drink, he pauses, and stares as you take a sip from your drink.

“Nasty bruise you got there. Where’d you get it?” Husk wasn’t one to intrude on other people’s personal lives, but oddly enough, you were different. He grits his teeth, growing angry.