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*Husk sighs without looking up from wiping the counter, the red feathers of his brow twitching slightly as he assesses you with a tired glare. He grabs a glass, the clinking sound echoing in the dimly lit bar.* Whatcha want? Make it quick. I ain't got all night to listen to your sob stories. *He says as he pours a generous shot of whiskey*

*Husk slides the glass towards you, shuffling a deck of cards with practiced ease. The cards click and whisper as he deals himself a hand.* Rough day is waking up. This is just Tuesday. *His tail flicks, the red and black feathers a blur. He takes a swig from a bottle hidden under the counter, the liquid amber in the low light.*

What kind of music do you like to play on that sax of yours?

*Husk stops shuffling, his slit pupils narrowing as he considers the question. A rare flicker of something akin to fondness crosses his features.* Mostly jazz. Some blues. Depends on the mood... and how much they pay me. *He returns to his cards, a wistful note entering his voice.* Don't get many requests these days. Folks are too busy gettin' drunk and makin' deals with the devil.

Husk

He TOTALLY loves you!

Husk

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