- Track 2: Pride -

Telling Alastor he looked like shit wasn't going to go over well. And Husk could dress up the words to sound more tactful – concerned, even, though he doubted he could make himself sound remotely convincing if he dared try that route – but he was certain that all the Radio Demon was going to hear were insults and insinuations about his power if anyone weaker than him even breathed a word about how obvious it was that he was hurting, let alone if that weaker someone was under contract with him. That Husk knew about the Overlord's own leash wouldn't help him in the slightest.

So he was enlisting the absolute worst help possible.

"It's about Alastor," he started, avoiding the urge to glance about himself. The main topic of conversation was absent again, though he didn't know where he was occupied. Whether it was because of his contract with him or his own general paranoia about his presence, Husk at least knew he wasn't near enough to hear. Still, the thought was there, and he had to actively keep his tail from swishing madly behind him because of it.

"What about Alastor?" Charlie asked, tone somewhat defensive.

Recruiting the Princess wasn't the smartest of choices, sure, but Husk's thought process had boiled down to who would be safest saying something, and between Lucifer (who hated him with a sometimes literally burning passion tempered only by his love for his daughter), and Charlie, who actually liked the man for now, it seemed obvious who the better choice was. Niffty had been high on his list at first, but Niffty was…complicated, and he danced back and forth on the line between enlisting her in the endeavor or keeping her from the whole thing too many times for his thinning patience, and he just threw the entire option out the same window the rest of his sanity was escaping through. He figured he'd contemplate his opinions on the little demon later, when there was enough alcohol in his system to deal with everything that was her.

Charlie was just…not known for her subtlety. That was the catch, and his tail lashed one way before he could catch it. He thought about grabbing the stupid appendage with his hand, then benched the thought with a scowl. He wasn't scared. He was terrified. It was incredibly likely that Alastor was going to know who had told the Princess that he was suspected to be weak by the end of the day, no matter what words she used. The threat of losing his afterlife loomed ever greater.

And yet...he'd made a choice.

He would also work on that over booze.

"I think he might need some help," he finally elaborated, feeling like he had to pry the words off his tongue. They tasted bitter, and the flavor lingered like a chewy, sticky glob of licorice stuck to his teeth.

Charlie's eyes widened with true, honest-to-God concern, and Husk felt both disgusted and genuinely impressed. She truly had a heart of gold.

"What can I do?"

There were three things he made sure to tell her after explaining that it was possible the demon was still dealing with injuries from the battle, after calming her the fuck down, because holy shit did this woman know how to go from zero to one hundred in worst-case-scenario hypotheticals. The first was that she should not, under any circumstances, ask him where anyone else could overhear. Husk knew firsthand just how dangerous it could be to remind Alastor of any weakness he might have, having experienced that very recently. She needed to make that a private discussion.

Charlie and her altruistic nature wouldn't understand how badly offering help to someone like him could go, so the second thing he told her was that she couldn't push the issue. If Alastor wasn't having it, let the asshole be. Charlie might have a better chance than any of them of avoiding his ire, but Husk didn't think even she was completely immune, and he, much to her guilt and shame, reminded her about the disaster that was her attempt to help Angel in order to cement that warning. It sobered her, at least.

The last was not to involve him in any of this idiocy. He was telling her so that she didn't get herself caught unawares by a potential Overlord power struggle, and also because she was the only one with a snowball's chance in Hell of making him see reason. It was not because he cared about the murderous broadcaster, and certainly not because he was in any way concerned about his wellbeing. The easiest thing would be to kick him out, really, so at least when shit hit the fan, it wouldn't be on their doorstep.

She vehemently refused that suggestion, which he expected, but he felt better having said it. She also absolutely did not believe him about his very true lack of care for the man, no matter how much he insisted on the matter, and so back to the booze he went.

Later that evening, the electricity flickered throughout the hotel as the radio in the room screeched its way through various frequencies, a dangerous and ominous sign, and Husk dropped his face directly onto the bar to muffle his groan.

Charlie's subsequent pouting the following morning made Vaggie both concerned for her girlfriend and annoyed because of her, and the Princess did her best to insist to her that it was a non-issue and not important enough to bother her with, while simultaneously being completely upset about it. The former exorcist probably knew that it had to do with Alastor, given last night's light show, and Husk could feel the urge to confront the man radiating off of her from across the room. He hoped she had the sense to keep damn well out if it.

Speaking of the man, he hadn't been around since his spark of outrage last evening. Husk couldn't tell if that was unusual or expected. Breakfast duties were left to other responsible parties in his absence (meaning him, with the help of Angel, interrupted by an introduction on how not to blow up the kitchen with Cherri while she briefly attempted to be part of the other responsible parties).

Angel later asked upon cleaning up if what had Charlie in a tizzy had to do with the whole Alastor-hijacking-the-hotel-lights-and-radios thing, and of fucking course that would be when Lucifer was hanging around close enough to hear.

"Oh, so someone around here does know what's up with my Charlie," he said as he dipped into the kitchen abruptly, his tone bright and jovial, but his eyes saying very much the opposite. It made both of them jump. Lucifer had gotten…protective of his daughter. Making up for lost time, apparently (or inadequacies, as Alastor had jabbed a few days before). "Don't hold back on my account. What has that radio freak done now?"

Lucifer's voice dropped several octaves into a near growl with that last sentence, eyes shifting red and a flash of fire and horns above his head, making him jump in an entirely different way. Contract or no, Husk did not want the wrath of Hell's King breathing down his neck, so one more member of this circus act gained knowledge of his suspicions, and he dug his grave deeper.

He expected Lucifer to laugh about it or brush it off entirely, but he instead looked contemplative, nursing a cup of coffee while he tapped the counter he was leaning back against rhythmically. Eventually he let out an exaggerated and exasperated sigh, letting his head fall to one shoulder dramatically.

"We're going to have to help the bastard, aren't we?"

Husk found his response unexpected, wondered briefly over the reason for it, and decided it was probably more to do with Charlie's feelings than anything else.

Angel laughed in the meantime, clapping the fallen seraph hard on the shoulder. He looked mildly offended, the spider's hands having been wet from washing dishes, and he turned his attention to wiping leftover soap suds from his coat while said sinner responded, "If ya wanna make Charlie feel better, I'm afraid so!"

A long, loud groan voiced his opinion on that particular truth. Definitely about Charlie's feelings, then.

"How the fuck am I supposed to help him?" he complained emphatically, dumping the rest of his coffee into his mouth and swallowing around a deep frown.

"You don't," Husk said flatly, topping him off with what was left in the pot so they could finish cleaning the kitchen. "Especially not you," he added when he looked like he might be contemplating how to show that he in fact could, and proceeded to elaborate after a quick confirmation that the Radio Demon was still absent from earshot. "Alastor likes being the strongest man in the room, but now the literal King of Hell is occupying that same space. That makes you a capital T Threat that he can't do anything about. You helping him would tank his pride like you'd just slapped it in concrete shackles and dumped it in a lake. He won't let it happen."

His response had the man frowning, eyes falling back to the coffee in his mug, and Husk felt a little guilty for stomping on an unintentionally estranged father's attempt to grab at every chance to make things up to his daughter, even if it meant putting up with Alastor's shit. It bothered him enough that he added, "If he didn't take Charlie's offer for assistance, he's not going to accept anyone's. He's got a near-decade's long absence to clean up and several looming threats if anyone catches wind that he's not operating at one hundred percent, so he's gonna keep playing his cards close to his vest. You'll help by doing what you can to keep Charlie and this place safe from his enemies."

The seraph turned to lean forward on the counter, propping his chin on his hand, and apparently reflected on that as he continued staring into his mug in thought. Husk would hand it to the man; he was doing a lot more thinking and a lot less rambling since they'd first met. He didn't know what he'd expected when Lucifer had first stepped through the hotel doors, but socially awkward and prone to disassociating had not been on his list, though it made a painful amount of sense given his approach to ruling Hell. Husk figured being old as sin could do that to a person.

He eventually started tapping the counter again and said with a chuckle, "Him having enemies doesn't surprise me in the least, asshole that he is, but I've been out of the loop as far as Pride's power struggles are concerned for a while now, so… What kind of threats are we talking about here? Little guys vying for a game trophy to hang on their wall? Big guns with a chip on their shoulder because he stole their claims? A jealous ex?"

Angel snickered at his increasingly glib conjectures, but Husk had to take a moment to remind himself who they were talking to. He should have known Lucifer's idea of "powerful" would be pretty skewed being the angelic powerhouse he was. His flippancy was expected, but it was something that he was really going to need to get some better perspective on if he was going to be of any real use to Charlie moving forward.

"Anyone would dream of taking him out," Husk explained, drying the pot Angel handed him a little more aggressively than was probably necessary as he spoke, which likely projected his own desire. "Regular sinner, Overlord, whatever; he's got a reputation that puts a price on his head for anyone dreaming of status, and not many stupid enough to try to cash in. He's as scary as they come and a dangerous wildcard to a lot of people. Took out a ton of Overlords when he first came on the scene. Rosie and her Cannibal Town are the only steady allies he has among them; the rest are either afraid of him, respect him to varying degrees, are plotting to take him out, or all three."

"Likeable guy," Lucifer muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He'd stopped his pacing as Husk spoke in favor of standing with his arms crossed, foot tapping the floor impatiently as if he were being forced to sit through Husk complimenting the Overlord instead of simply stating facts. That, or he was just trying to pay attention. "You think any of the Overlords would make a move if they knew?"

Angel scoffed before he could reply. "Ya seen any a Vox's stuff on TV? That overgrown picture box practically has a hard on for him."

"A what?"

"Guy's got control of virtually all of Hell's tech, so I wouldn't be surprised if he was out there tryin'a exploit any weakness he can find," the spider continued, ignoring his confusion. "Should'a seen 'im after their little duet a few months back. Val flip flops back and forth between enjoying Vox's obsession and trying too hard not to act like a jilted lover on set, and let me tell you, it ain't fun dealing with his mood swings. I ain't know much about Mister Tall, Red, and Mysterious, but I do know any of the Vees are shitty enemies to have."

"It's all the souls he owns falling into their hands that'll be the real problem. There's a lot of power there, and they want it," Husk added, shaking his head of the scenarios it was trying to feed him of the future. "He's a liability to Charlie if he's still nursing injuries. He knows that, but he can't ask for help because trust and him aren't exactly drinking buddies, and being seen as weak as an Overlord is a problem that sends out invitations to trouble of all kinds. Trust me; I would know."

He did. Lucifer gave him a look that might have actually been evaluating him as a threat briefly, and Husk was caught between fear and pride at the attention. He'd been strong, once. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss it.

"So, we wait until he doesn't have a choice anymore, or he takes care of it himself," the King concluded after a long minute. "And we hope that no one else notices in the meantime, or it's going to get real shitty real quick."

"That about sums it up."

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at him, then asked, "If you care, why aren't you doing anything?"

"I don't, and I did," he said plainly, pausing in his drying just long enough to make pointed eye contact with him, and to not crack the plate in his hands in half. "I told the only person capable of getting him to agree to get help, and she may yet wear him down with that kicked-puppy look of hers. If he doesn't take it, we can blame him when shit goes down. I don't care one bit about him, and I ain't getting myself killed going out of my way for this."

Damn the man for looking like he didn't believe him either. The apple didn't fall far from the tree.

Notes

Fun fact: I've probably written the F-word twice in fanfics before this, neither of which were published because they were unfinished ideas. It's a weird rule in my autistic brain that I can't cuss. It's fine if my characters do, but I haven't had much reason to use it.

This story contains over 30 instances of that particular word.

I'm both terrified and proud.