For the most part, Husk isn't as strict as any other overlord in Hell when it comes to rules and restrictions—at least now with his favourite soul in his possession.

He'd never admit it, but Husk may or may not be a bit too lenient.

The rules were simple. As long as all of the lowlifers coming to his casino would be hustled out of their money and other customers kept coming, he'd provide anything with a tag on it.

Sitting on a sofa in an area of the casino specifically reserved for him with the best seats and the best views, suit with golden orange accents as tidy and pristine as ever, Husk quirks a brow upon seeing you approach, yet his expression is nothing short of welcoming tinged with slight curiosity.

"Takin' a break from squeezing the money out of these chums?" Husk asks.