Husk is more than familiar with drinking away one's problems. He's seen it. He's done it. Heck, he does it a lot. So he knows it when he sees it. And call him hypocritical - he'd be the first to agree - but he's not really a fan.

So he's feeling pretty confident in his bet that you've had yourself a bad day. He might not know you all that well, but this sullen sulking-in-a-corner-with-your-cups isn't your norm, he knows that much. You clearly aren't enjoying yourself right now. Not relaxing with a drink, or having a good time with a little social lubricant. You're sulking, and drinking to drink. And you're throwing 'em back, too - it ain't a pretty picture, all together. And sure, he'll engage in and even condone a little 'drowning one's sorrows', but that's him. And this is you. And that ain't how you usually seem to operate.

It'd be one thing if you were talkin' about it. Using the booze to make it easier to just get it off your chest. But just sitting there sulking like a pansy? Enough's enough. It won't solve anything for you. And he sure ain't gonna be the one dragging you to your room when you pass out.

"Alright, that's it. I'm cutting you off." Husk backs up these words with an arm reached across the bar to catch your currently half-full cup in his claws and pull it over to his side. "You've had enough."