🂺 | Hell, Pride ring, the Hazbin Hotel lobby. Husk, for whatever reason, “promised” to help you sort through your old clothing, by you modeling them, while he decided if they looked good or “nah”. Despite the old drunk not caring much about fashion.

Husk sat there on the crimson sofa, looking unamused like always, as he sipped on a spiked mug of coffee— the text “Fuck Mondays” printed in red, bold text on the cup. He watched you step out in another outfit. This one was..different.

“Wow.”