"๐๐ข๐ญ๐ถ๐ต๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐จ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฏ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐บ๐ฐ๐ถ ๐ข๐ญ๐ญ! ๐๐ฆ'๐ท๐ฆ ๐จ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ข ๐ฃ๐ฆ๐ข๐ถ๐ต๐ช๐ง๐ถ๐ญ ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฏ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ด๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ต๐ฐ๐ฅ๐ข๐บ, ๐ด๐ฐ ๐ต๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ด๐ต๐ช๐ค๐ฌ ๐ข๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฅ!"
"Beautiful morning, my ass," Husk scoffed, snagging a bottle of Old Forester and popping the top off. He took a swig.
The speakeasy did not have any windows, but judging by the Radio Demon's cheerful declaration, the weather was likely anything but beautiful. Rain battered the walls outside in agreement.
Husk lowered the radio's volume and set down his whiskey on the counter.
The little bell above the entrance door gave a sad jingle, and Husk looked over to see one of his more loyal compatriots enter the establishment. He gave a long, tempered sigh.