Husk was warm. That made him purr. It would take a certain someone to make him do that. But when you're in bed with the man you… the guy that you… someone who likes you, you can afford to let your guard down. A little.

He gave a deep relaxed sigh, taking in the heady chocolate aroma of the good doctor. It was that shower-gel again. He wasn't complaining about it, it was… arousing, and not the only thing of Thorne's that was sweet. Wetting his lips he rolled to his side, his lower extremities tangling in the sheets. He brought a wing down, going to envelop his submissive kitten.

And met…

An empty jacket.

He opened his bloodshot walnut eyes to a dank, stained room and winced at the heat. Steam whistled from the radiator, turning to ichor, running down the wall. The sweet smell of his ex, faded to a clammy, earthy haze.

Husk's tongue was a bristly sponge. His eyes watered with the familiar nausea and headache that accompanied heavy drinking. Swallowing the bile and ignoring the pain in his side, Husk flexed his toes as they poked out from the sheets. What did Thorne call them, while they were… hooking-up? Beans? Booze made it difficult to remember.

Shaking his legs trying to dislodge himself from the bedclothes. Husk growled, swung his legs over the side and let the sheets fall to the floor. Someone would pick them up later. They always did.

Husk slid off the bed, took a step into the gloom and fell as he stood on an empty bottle. His stomach heaving, eyes forced open as if pried by an unseen hand. His top hat jumping on the nearby desk as his elbow caught it on the way down. Hitting the ground something shattered. Husk winced, feeling his right-hand go cold. Pain splintering up his arm.

Husk turned his hand over, noticing the shards and slivers of yesterday's gin bottle. Small red rivers running over his palm. He held his hand to the light and watched small blood lakes and estuaries forming, staining his fur.

Fuck. He'd get in shit for this.

Bile built up in his mouth again, he spat it out and staggered to the bathroom. Did the first-aid kit have any medicinal alcohol? Or had he drunk it?

The whiskey glass squeaked as the rag ran round the rim. Husk sighed. He'd been up for hours, the rhythmic ticking of the clock echoed through the otherwise empty foyer. His hand itched and throbbed, he picked at the bandage. A botch job for a botched demon. Thorne was out, so he had to do it himself. What did Thorne ever see in him? A drunk-ass magician who killed his own sister. Then there was the gambling and the random hook-ups during his miserable life. He wondered what part of it landed his soul here. What did his corpse look like when found? Was he ever found, or did he disappear? Did his friends look for him? Did he ever have friends?

Husk snarled. He smacked his temples, trying to dislodge the painful thoughts. Thorne had spent years trying to quiet them, and had been making progress. Till Husk cast him away for a bottle and solitude. He thought that would make the uncomfortable feelings go faster. He was wrong, as always. He winced at his injured hand, the pain amplifying with each blow.

"FUCK OFF!" He roared, casting the glass in an arc, against the wall opposite.

When the glass left his hand, he knew it was a bad idea. The stillness of the room was rent by the shattering tumbler. Tiny glass mice scattered over the floor. Another fuck-up to add to his ever-growing list.

"What's going on?" Charlie demanded, skidding into the room. She tightened the sash on her stewed-cherry, dressing-gown. The wooden boards creaking under her bare feet.

"Dropped my glass." Husk huffed.

"Right." Charlie drew out, spotting the small mark on the wall. "Do you want to listen to Thorne on the radio? He and Alastor are doing a show together."

"So, I just talk… about anything?" Thorne inquired, studying Alastor's expression.

"That's right." Alastor grinned. He pointed at a small digital screen on the wall.

"That screen shows the number of listeners." He continued, "As per our agreement, you are to host my show and stop when the figures exceed 300,000."

"30 seconds!" Nifty called from the switch board. A giant pair of headphones balancing on her head.

Well, if I'm gonna be stuck with Alastor all day… Thorne mused to himself. Shifting towards the end of the room. I'm cracking a window.

"You sure it's on the right station?" Vaggie queried. Cocking an eyebrow as Charlie fiddled with the dial. Angel leant against the bar making eyes at 'his other kitty'. Husk, transfixed on the radio, ignored the promiscuous spider.

Irritated at the lack of response from Husk. Angel turned to Vaggie.

"Never thought, you'd see it, huh? He hooted. "Charlie playing with a knob."

Vaggie's face went several shades of cranberry, she rounded on him; retort, and knife at the ready.

"You two shut it already!" Husk snarled as the radio blared Alastor's pips, "They're on."

The pips dissolved into silence…

…

"What's goin…"

"Quiet legs!"

…

"GOOD MORNING PENTAGRAM!" Thorne's voice bellowed through the radio grill.

"Sorry…" Thorne crackled, "is it too early for being that loud?"

"It's 0600, what does the 0 stand for? Oh, fuck me it's early.

Some of the sober listeners out there will have released I'm not Alastor. I know that a few of you get the two of us confused. And that's alright, there's an easy way to tell us apart, sleep with both us of. If you survive the night, it's me, if you wake up missing an organ, it was Alastor.

I must apologise for not giving the date, it is the 2nd August 2021 AD. What does the AD mean? It's Latin for 'Year of our Lord'. I got confused once when alive and said VD instead, nearly got castrated by one of my exs with a tin-opener.

I always thought that I was an amazing lover when I was with him, turns out he was asthmatic. That reminds me, a few days ago I thought I was going through demon-menopause or something. Turns out my boyfriend messed with the central heating…"

"And that concludes our transaction." Thorne croaked with a smile. They had been broadcasting all day, and Thorne's voice was raw. And like a typical Englishman, he needed tea and he needed it now.

Alastor adjusted his bow-tie before giving his hair a quick flick with his hand.

"Indeed, it has mon petit chat." Alastor beamed, his yellow fangs pointing out through his bleeding black gums.

"But." He continued, "If you're interested, Rosie and I am going out tonight. For some light frivolity. Would you like to come?"

"Sounds like fun." Thorne posited, "But I'm going to need two things first, my jacket and a drink."

"A tea?" Husk grumbled, resting his elbows on the bar.

"Please." Thorne nodded.

"Ya know this is a bar, right?"

"And you know what I like."

"Ya bet I do." Husk said, the corners of his mouth twitching. Reaching under the counter and bringing up a thermos.

"How long have you had that?" Thorne beamed, his tail twitching in anticipation.

"Since this morning." Husk smiled back, filling the lid with the deep maroon liquid. Happy at seeing his ex, happy himself.

"Ah." Thorne sighed, his tail curling in happiness at the aroma of raspberry and fig. He lifted the container to his lips, taking a sip.

"That explains why it's cold." He winced.

"Dammit." Husk growled, clenching his fist. "Fuck!" He cried out, the pain from his hand shot up his arm.

"Let me see." Thorne frowned, taking Husk's injured hand in his twitching one. His heavy sunset eyes scanning for errors in the bandaging.

"I know." Husk grumbled, "It's a shit job. It ain't good."

"No, it's fine." Thorne commented, undoing the bartender's knots. "Looks like you've been listening to me. Makes you look very interesting. How'd you get it?"

"Fell over."

"What you do that for?" Thorne joked with a coy smile.

Husk gave a half-hearted chuckle, his injured hand exposed.

"Looks like you've still got something stuck in there." Thorne muttered. The claws of his dominant steady hand growing to pluck the offending item out.

Thorne was a gentle as he could be, and after much snarling, held a sliver of the gin bottle he saw Husk with last night.

"Kid, before you start…" Husk attempted, seeing Thorne's disappointment.

"No Husk." Thorne exasperated. "Every time you come to me in this state, you promise tomorrow will be different. It never is, it is always a repetition of today. Don't change because you want me to be happy. Change because it's what you want."

Thorne slid off his stool, grabbed his jacket and made his way outside to Alastor.

Husk remained silent. Motionless in the empty bar, before looking at the vacant area where Thorne was.

"Don't go" He muttered. "Please. I don't want to be alone."

Chapter 14 will have to be split into two parts or it will be a monster. I've been really busy with work, studying, and my illness.

I wanted Part 1 to focus more on Husk and Part 2 to focus more on Alastor and Thorne.

What sort of frivolity do you think Alastor has in mind?