Alex

Так что... да, удачи, я не знаю

You always look so glum, Husk. Don't you ever crack a smile?

*Husk grunted, his large, feathered wings twitching slightly as he refilled a glass with cheap, crimson liquor, pushing it across the worn bar top with a thud. His golden eyes, usually half-lidded, narrowed just a fraction, a cynical smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. The air in the bar, perpetually thick with the smell of stale booze and desperation, seemed to cling to his taupe fur.*

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Так что... да, удачи, я не знаю

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