He threw the empty wine bottle to the side. Shit, it's not like the boss will miss 'em clean floors. Husk drew his cigar back to the corner of his mouth. Besides, no demon cares about getting their paws in some glass. Maybe those pristine bastards will.

Ah, shit.

Husk swiped a claw at his chest. His hand back away with a thick, purple residue. All over his upper body. The grape stench made him crinkled his nose.

"Guess I'm taking a shitty bath tonight. For Satan's sake." He grumbled.

His eyes remained on the stain as the bar door opened. When he acknowledged the breeze, he turned away from the counter to grab a glass- or two.

"What'd ya want?" He rolled his eyes.

Something felt off. Like everything was closing in. Maybe he should've seen who entered. Well, fuck, what's he going to do about it now, eh?

An overly cheerful voice sounded off. He sounded like an old, broken radio. Husk immediately hated it. Why would anyone be happy in this life? None-the-less, probably a fresh new demon who has no clue what he's in for.

"My good friend, a Dubonnet would be ravishing."

Nevermind the new demon theory. Classy fellow, eh? Died around the 20s? Husk gotten used to reading demons. It was simple; seems like whoever decided what demon you are were fucking clowns. Radio show sound… A radio shitlord. Nice.

Wait a second. This sounded too familiar.

1920s, radio, smiles, shitlord. Oh, shit. This was the infamous Devil of New Orleans, wasn't it. Husk heard the guy was sketchy.It's fine. Just stay on his good side. Maybe he'll leave me alone.

"Alright."

Husk grabbed the ingredients for the concoction- gin, some random herbs, and a lemon. He placed the concoction down and took a long sip from his beer glass. The other demon did the same with his gin. Husk stared as radio boy drank.Get on his good side.Husk narrowed his eyes.And you'll be fine.No small talk or you're dead.

"So what's your name, my dear!" Radio boy set the glass down and smiled.

Oh, hell no. Radio boy better not be starting up shit.

"Uh…" Husk raises his eyebrows. "It's Husk."

"Husker, Husker, Husker." The demon tsked. "This gin lovely- may I add- but lacks zest!"

"I added a fucking lemon."Is what Husk would've said; however, he bit his tongue to avoid angering the overlord. Good thing to. Didn't wanna end up dead… again? What the fuck happens after that death!

"Perhaps, this bar needs to lighten up!" The demon stabbed his microphone staff into the ground and the lights flickered off.

Oh, shit no.

The lights flickered in with blue lights. The overlord's face glimmered with neon colors. Husk's face twisted with disgust. He noticed the color of his wings and quickly tucked them behind his back.

Radio boy tossed a coin and a jazz band evocated, "Take it boys!"

The band began to play a lively jazz piece. The taller demon snapped his fingers to the beat and laughed. He began to start a note. He opened his mouth and took in air to sing.

Not in my bar, you don't.

Husk covered the overlord's mouth with his clawed hand and shushed the band. Husk's eyes widened at his action. He looked fearfully at the red demon. The latter's eyes were half-lidded in amusement then bright and large in pure menace. The pupils turned static-like and… were those radio dials? Husk knew Smiles was smiling darkly under his hand.

Oh, fuck. I fucked up.

Husk timidly removed his hand and backed up behind the demon. He had two options: run or run fast. But he stood like glue when the demon's head turned around with a crack. Fuck, this dude was creepy. The demon twisted back around to his normal shape and moved to the cat demon.

"No one as ever interrupted my singing before." His smile stayed, but his eyes softed. "You're a interesting fellow, Husker."

Husk kept quiet.

"If I can't sing here, then perhaps a game of pool will do for entertainment." The demon led the cat demon to a pool table. "I'm afraid I haven't introduced myself!"

The demon stuck his hand out, "Alastor. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Decide, Husk: shake his hand and end it all or live your un-life as a gambler and drinker.

Well, what does he have to lose?