A/N: This one, too, goes between chapters 7 and 8. And this one is a twofer! : D

Husk was pretty sure he was getting way too soft on Alastor. Or maybe he was simply getting sick and tired of the loneliness he now felt pretty quickly if he didn't at least chat with the guy every few days.

Yes, this was just a way to make it easier to kill two birds with one stone. He could always ignore what the birds were to make himself feel less like a sentimental fool.

He nodded to himself and finally entered the sketchy electronics store he had been walking by for a few days now. Nobody greeted him, nobody came to ask him if he needed help, nobody gave a crap about his presence. Not that he had expected any actual customer service from the fuckers working there; nobody working retail in Hell gave a shit. Not that they had back when he was alive, either, unless they were the owner, but that was beside the point.

He was glad about it anyway. The less he had to interact with random people, the damn better.

He wandered around on his own for a while, and eventually found the part of the shop he had been looking for: the one that had radios and shit. Now he just needed to find something portable that would work for his plans, but not be too costly.

He scratched at his cheek idly and eyed the selection.

A transistor radio would definitely work, and it was frankly amazing how much smaller they were made now. He could see himself hauling one of those around without much issue. So, maybe.

There were more modern looking portable radios, but they frankly had too many damn buttons for his liking, even if he didn't really need to know how to use them for what he needed this for. Pass.

What really caught his eye was a roughly pocket book sized square with headphones. Yes, he would much rather not have everyone listen in on the Radio Demon chatting idly with him.

He picked up the unboxed sample Walkman and turned it in his paws, trying to make some sense of it. It was very light, and the reason for that was easy to deduce: it was a cassette player, and it was currently empty. Did it have a radio option at all? He carefully checked each button and slider. Play, stop, eject, forward, rewind, volume. Nothing to tune in on different channels with. Damn, would it even work, then?

Only one way to find out.

He picked up a pair of headphones that were meant for ears like his, and plugged them in. He carefully set them on his ears, and proceeded with the experiment. "Alastor? Testing, can you hear me?"

It was quiet for a moment, and then…

"Why, yes, I can! Why are you doubting that? Is something the matter?"

Husk grinned. "Nah, just trying a newfangled thingamabob. You go back to whatever you were doing."

"Now you made me curious! What are you up to?"

"You'll see later. Now shoo, I need to buy this thing and I don't need the fucking cashier freaking out because of your voice."

He waited a while until he was satisfied Alastor was no longer there and probably not going to come through the device, either. He put the sample things back down and picked up an unopened box that contained both the Walkman and the correct kind of headphones.

He made his purchase and exited the shop with a satisfied smile. Now he had a way to call Alastor while he was at the pub or the casino if he felt lonely, and he could listen to Alastor's endless rambling without being tied to his home.

Two birds, one stone.

Later on, when he was at the pub and listening to Alastor's babble while he drank, he discovered one more boon he hadn't even considered: nobody fucking tried to talk to him while he had the headphones on.

Fuck yes to less interaction with random fuckers!

Three birds!

ooooo

Husk entered one of his regular pubs in good cheer. He had won a tidy sum at roulette last night, so today he planned to treat himself to some fancy cocktails for a chance. He'd see how well the bartenders knew their drinks, and if they didn't know something he knew, he'd fucking teach the whippersnappers because he sure as hell knew his drinks. Yes, he was feeling rather generous. And maybe a little smug, but he was allowed to feel smug if he damn well wanted to.

A few of drinks and one satisfying lecture later he decided to look around and see if the dart board was free, or at least tolerable levels of crowded. He felt like going all out on the fun department tonight.

Much to his surprise, the dart board was not where it was supposed to be anymore, but had instead been replaced by a relatively decent looking old jukebox.

Huh. Well, that could be amusing, too, he supposed. He finished his fancy drink and wandered over to the new old machine curiously. It looked even more scuffed up close, but it was evidently still working or it wouldn't be here. Upon closer investigation he discovered that it had a really long list of old songs that a guy his age knew well, but the kids these days probably had never heard of.

Hmm… A guy his age…

Alastor would know a lot of these songs as well. He was stubborn and refused to like things that were invented after the 30s, even music when he actually managed to resist a good beat – man, it had been fucking hilarious how scandalized he had been by Elvis when Husk made him listen to a record once – but this list should please him greatly.

Yeah, he should call Alastor.

Husk was just about to turn around and locate the pub's radio system when a thought entered his head.

If he could summon Alastor with a fucking Walkman, could he also do it with a jukebox?

Hah. That was easy enough to find out.

He laid a paw on the machine. "Alastor. I'm at a pub, how about you join me?"

He waited while ignoring the weird look a nearby demon threw at him for talking to a fucking jukebox. Fuck that stranger; he didn't get to judge Husk while sitting in a shitty bar himself.

A moment later Alastor appeared by his side, looking neutrally cheerful.

It worked.

It actually fucking worked! Alastor really came to him via a fucking jukebox, which was a far cry from a radio. Husk couldn't help the incredulous laugh that escaped from his lips.

Alastor gave him a puzzled look. "I'm pleased to see you, too, but I have to admit I'm quite confused by this particular welcome."

Husk snorted, and gestured at the jukebox. "I summoned you here with this sucker. Look me in the eye and tell me that's not some funny shit."

Alastor looked at the jukebox and his eyes and grin widened. He kept staring at it for a couple of more seconds, and then laughed in a manner that spoke of the same amused disbelief Husk felt.

That made the thing even fucking funnier, and Husk couldn't help but join him in the laughter. That, of course, egged Alastor on. Which made Husk laugh even harder. It was a fucking mess.

The next few minutes were spent in absolute hysterics. They just laughed their fucking asses off while leaning against the jukebox and each other. Whenever one of them would be about to calm down he would make the mistake of locking eyes with the other, and they would both break down laughing all over again. His fucking stomach ached by the time they finally managed to break the vicious cycle of shared hilarity.

"I wasn't aware a jukebox would work, I must admit", Alastor said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes with a fancily embroidered handkerchief. Husk was immediately one hundred percent certain Alastor had embroidered it himself, even though he had no proof. He didn't need Alastor to tell him that his mother had taught him; he knew without asking. He wasn't sure what to do with the information, so he elected to ignore it.

"Well, I'm glad it did. Saved me the trouble of finding a radio", Husk said, and tapped his claw against the plastic on the spot where you could browse the songs. "I actually invited you because this thing has good shit. Figured you'd appreciate a bunch of old songs."

Alastor made an interested noise, and soon the two of them were browsing the songs and arguing over which to pick and in which order to play them.

They had a good list of options going by the time they found The Song.

Alastor froze on the spot, and then grabbed Husk into a side-hug and jolted him excitedly. "This one! It has to be this! I hereby cancel all the previous ones, I want to listen to this one on loop!"

Husk momentarily had trouble seeing what the song in question was due to the fucking jolting, but once Alastor calmed down he laid his eyes on the name.

Ory's Creole Trombone.

Oh.

Now, he didn't actually know the song. But he knew Alastor. It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to figure out where the guy was from, but eventually he had hazarded a guess at Louisiana. And then he heard the fucking accent when Alastor drank a bit too much one time, and yeah, New Orleans. And then there was the French and a few other little things that told him the rest.

He understood enough to know why he'd pick this song.

"Yeah, fine, okay", he said, and dug out his wallet. "We'll do three times, but then I get to pick the next one."

Alastor nodded, and went to take a seat at the nearest table, looking at Husk with almost reverent expectation.

Geez.

Husk inserted the coins, picked the song three times in a row, and then joined Alastor.

The song was… Not exactly to his taste, but he didn't hate it.

Alastor, on the other hand, had tilted his head slightly to one side and was leaning his cheek against his palm. His fluffy ears were perked up and turned towards the jukebox. His eyes were closed and he had soft smile on his lips. He sat absolutely still.

It was eerie.

It was fucking beautiful in a strange way.

Husk couldn't tear his gaze away and he quite frankly paid zero attention to the song itself or their surroundings.

The song ended way too soon, and Alastor sighed in pure fucking contentment and Husk felt like his own breath got stuck in his throat. He wrenched his eyes away just in time as the next round of the song began. Damn, he needed some space to clear his head, apparently.

"I'll go get us something to drink", Husk said and got up. He glanced at Alastor, who now had his eyes open but looked like he was miles and decades away from the pub. He wasn't sure if Alastor even heard him, but he supposed that didn't matter.

Husk let him be and went to the bar counter. He took his time getting himself another fancy cocktail and Alastor an expensive whiskey, and then returned to their table just in time for the second round of the song to end and the third to begin.

"Here", he said, and slid the whiskey over. Alastor hummed absentmindedly, accepted the drink, and took a sip. His gaze sharpened for a moment and he looked at the glass with a pleasantly surprised smile. Husk grinned; his friend clearly approved of the selected whiskey.

"I won big last night", Husk offered as an explanation. Alastor nodded, not needing to hear more. That, and he was distracted by the song again.

Husk sipped his own drink quietly, and tried to not stare too much.

The song eventually ended, and for a moment there was an… expectant air in the pub. Then the regular chatter resumed.

"Fucking finally", Husk's ears picked up from a nearby table. "I was getting sick of the fucking trumpet shit."

…

Husk looked at Alastor, whose eyes narrowed. Yeah, he had heard it as well.

How fucking dare that guy.

Husk tapped his claws against the table and contemplated their options while keeping an eye on Alastor to make sure he didn't act first.

They could simply let it slide and ignore the idiot. It was not their problem that the fucker had a shitty taste in music. They didn't need to care.

They could start shit with the guy. Alastor would be more than happy to literally rip him apart. Husk wasn't necessarily against a bar brawl either.

Or they could…

Husk smirked evilly and caught Alastor's eye. Alastor gave him an inquiring and interested look. "You have a plan of action? I was still considering the options, but I was leaning towards a snack."

Yeah, no, he didn't need to witness cannibalism tonight.

"I was thinking entertainment", he said, made a hand motion for Alastor to follow him, stood up, and went to the jukebox with Alastor obediently on his heels. He pulled out his wallet and inserted all the coins he had into the machine, and picked the same song over and over and over again. Alastor snorted in a rather uncharacteristic manner, and Husk snickered in return.

"Give me your wallet", he said, and Alastor was clearly in sync with him as said wallet was pushed into his paw before he even finished the sentence. He smirked. "Now watch this."

Husk picked a completely random song and added it to the list. And then he spammed more of Ory's Creole Trombone after it. Alastor was wheezing quietly beside him.

They went to a different table afterwards; one where they had a good view of the entire pub. They sipped their drinks and watched the scene unfold. Alastor's grin was miles wide.

First people at large kind of groaned or rolled their eyes, but continued their conversations. Then some left in a huff while others looked resigned to their fates. Then stronger drinks were ordered. Then tables were clawed and heads were banged in frustration and more people left, while the stubborn and uncaring stayed. The asshole who had brought this upon all of them was one of the stubborn types. Good.

Then the random song came. People looked confused. Then relieved. Then they lowered their guards.

And then the song ended and...

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

Husk and Alastor laughed so fucking hard that neither could stay sitting upright, and Husk's long since empty glass dropped from the table and shattered.

The asshole, obviously, came to their table soon afterwards. Alastor, of course, killed him on the spot with zero effort. Husk, naturally, stopped him from snacking on the guy's heart and suggested they go find another place with better food.

Neither of them knew how many rounds of their song played after they were long gone, but that didn't matter.

They got what Husk had set out to accomplish: a fucking excellent night out.