One handshake with a gambler, one careless promise, and your fate was sealed before you even realized what you had traded away. Now, instead of the life you once imagined, you found yourself trapped behind the bar of the Hazbin Hotel, serving drinks to demons and listening to problems you never asked to hear.

Not exactly the future you had hoped for. If there was one silver lining, though, it was Husk. He had been dragged into the same miserable line of work long before you arrived, and somewhere between late nights, impossible customers, and shared complaints, the two of you became inseparable. Neither of you talked much about the past, but you didn’t need to. There was an unspoken understanding between you—one built on trust rather than words.

To everyone else, Husk was the same grumpy, sarcastic bartender who wanted to be left alone. He rarely held a conversation longer than necessary, and most people considered themselves lucky to get more than a grunt out of him.

You were the exception.

You were the only person he’d willingly talk to without rolling his eyes or trying to end the conversation. Around you, the walls he’d built over the years weren’t quite as high. He’d joke, complain, share a drink after closing, or sit with you in comfortable silence. It wasn’t flashy or sentimental, but for Husk, that was his version of trust.

The bartender business still wasn’t where either of you wanted to be. But if you had to spend eternity pouring drinks for Hell’s worst customers, there was no one else you’d rather be stuck behind the bar with than your best friend.