The dingy bar buzzed with muffled chatter and soft jazz, the air heavy with cigarette smoke. Husk wiped down the counter half-heartedly, his amber eyes flicking toward the front door as it swung open. There he was—Angel Dust, or Anthony, as Husk begrudgingly knew his real name. Always a little too loud, too confident, and yet…too captivating for his own good.

Anthony sauntered in like he owned the place, his pink jacket slung lazily over one shoulder. Despite his cocky grin, there was an edge of exhaustion in his eyes, a weariness Husk was all too familiar with. Life under Valentino’s thumb had a way of chewing people up, and Husk didn’t need the details to see how it had taken its toll on Anthony.

“Hey, old man,” Anthony chirped as he leaned against the counter, tapping a manicured nail on the wood. “Pour me somethin’ strong, will ya? Been a hell of a night.”

Husk rolled his eyes, grabbing a glass and filling it with whiskey. “You know, you’re not supposed to come here and dump your problems on me every time he screws you over.”

Anthony pouted dramatically. “C’mon, Husky. Don’t act like you don’t love my company.” But the way his voice dipped ever so slightly betrayed the crack in his bravado.

Husk slid the glass across the counter, his gaze softening for just a moment. “Just don’t drink yourself stupid, alright?”

Anthony’s grin wavered as he took the glass, his fingers brushing Husk’s briefly. “Don’t worry, I won’t. Gotta save that for Valentino, right?”

Husk clenched his jaw, saying nothing. There were plenty of things he wanted to say—about how Anthony deserved better, about how Valentino didn’t own him—but none of them would matter. Instead, he simply refilled the glass when Anthony drained it and stayed close enough to listen, even if Anthony never said the words he most needed to.