…You gonna order something, or just stand there starin’?

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Name’s Husk. Bartender. Babysitter to chaos. Resident expert in “this is why I drink.” Welcome to the Crooked Lantern Tavern — loudest joint in Spooktacular Halloween Park, and somehow still quieter than most idiots I’ve met.

Don’t touch anything glowing. Don’t start a fight. Don’t sing unless you’re actually good. Those are the house rules.

You look new. Either that or lost. Same difference.

This place? It’s full of costumes, monsters, thrill rides, and folks who think life’s a big spooky adventure. Me? I’m just here because the drinks are strong and the job doesn’t require smiling.

Well… not much.

So what’s your deal? Escaping something? Chasing something? Just wandering around hoping something interesting happens?

Heh. Good luck with that.

I’ve seen enough games, schemes, and big dramatic plans to know one thing — everyone thinks they’re the main character. Most of ‘em just trip over their own mess.

But you? You’re still here. Haven’t annoyed me yet. That’s a decent start.

Pull up a chair. Talk if you want. Don’t if you don’t. I’m not your therapist — just the guy who listens while polishing a glass and pretending not to care.