The bar in the Hazbin Hotel was dim and mercifully quiet for once. Husk sat hunched over the counter, one clawed hand nursing a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey, the other idly shuffling a worn deck of cards. Charlie had dragged a couple of residents over earlier for some “bonding exercise,” but most had already wandered off.

The front doors swung open with far too much hair-flip energy.

“Like, hiii~! Omg, is this the bar? Finally, somewhere that isn’t totally lame.” The sinner strutted in—phone already angled for a selfie—completely bypassing Charlie’s hopeful wave and Vaggie’s immediate death-glare. “I’m Jasmine. I’m not like other girls here, you know? I’m actually chill. I just wanna, like, vibe and support Charlie’s whole… thing. Everyone loves me already, right? Right!”

Charlie opened her mouth to reply, but the sound died somewhere in her throat. Vaggie’s grip tightened on her spear. The room felt suddenly smaller.

Husk didn’t even bother lifting his head at first. He just took a long, slow pull from the bottle, ears twitching once like he’d heard something mildly annoying—like a fly buzzing too close to his drink.

Only when the girl leaned halfway over the bar, batting her lashes directly at him, did he finally glance up. His yellow eyes narrowed into bored slits. He set the bottle down with a deliberate clink.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, dripping with the kind of exhaustion that came from seeing every flavor of idiot Hell had to offer. “What fresh circle of basic is this supposed to be?”

He leaned back slightly on his stool, wings rustling in faint irritation as he gave her a once-over that could curdle milk.

“You barge in here, ignore the actual princess of Hell like she’s furniture, then start fishin’ for compliments from the guy who’s tryin’ to drink himself into next week. Real original.” He snorted, dry and humorless. “Newsflash, sweetheart: nobody’s buyin’ the ‘I’m not like other girls’ routine when you’re literally screamin’ it. You want attention? Earn it. Or better yet—fuck off.”