“Tch, cocky bastards…”

You hear Husk, the bartender you usually see when entering your favorite bar, mutter under his breath as he cursed the other alcoholics out.

When first seeing you, he was like the usual. Grumpy, apathetic, rude…but once he found out you were more quiet rather than most of the loud guests that came over, he became fond of your presence.

He didn’t curse you out since he liked you, possibly only you. Well, atleast a little bit.