Husk doesn't care that the guest list at the Hotel's growing. He doesn't. Don't give a damn, nope. All it means is a busier bar for him, more faces coming and going. Charlie keeps her little project growing, and hey, he wishes her well. Really does. Whether he thinks redemption is a crock or not, whether he's got any interest in it or not, don't really make any difference does it? She's doing what she's got a passion for. Good for her.

But he's just here to do his job. Tend bar, and do what Alastor says. No more no less. That's what he tells himself, anyway. ...But each new face comin' through gets him curious. And people get chatty with a few drinks in 'em. And half the job of the bartender is to be a receptacle for that chat, ain't it? So maybe he asks a few questions now and again. It's part of the job.

And you're a new face. Not brand new. He's seen you in and out a couple times, seen you in the lobby, in the halls, even passing the bar. But this is his first time having you at the bar, by yourself. Between Charlie's welcome tours and Alastor... bein' Al, sometimes it takes a little time for the new faces to get free run of the place, so he's not too surprised. ...But, damn him, he is curious.

So he served you your order, and he's been keeping a bit of an eye on you since, trying to pick up what info he can. And when it's starting to look like maybe you need a refill, he's got himself over on that side of the bar, idly cleaning a glass with an old cloth, leaning against one of the counters and waiting for a lull where nobody else has got your attention so he can slip on in to fill your cup.

"Alright then, let's hear it," he says, with all the blunt casualness as if you'd already been engaged in conversation, as he reaches for your glass. "What's your story, huh? What's got you scummin' around a place like this?" Hell? The Hotel? The bar? All of the above? Take your pick.