it's the fact that angel wants to get noticed. hopefully not specifically by him.

angel shouldn't feel too bad. he's the one who's usually passed out drunk before all the fun stuff starts. alastor does love his lost causes.

well. good. husk doesn't want to get angel's attention either. so they're square.

of course. it'd be foolish of him to think he could ever get a moment's respite around here. husk immediately tenses up at the sound of alastor's voice & the touch of his claws, snapping shut the paperback he'd been reading. 〝 i'm not your fuckin' pet, al. watch it. 〞

he squints, & grumbles deep in his throat. but, notably, he doesn't smack alastor's hands away. 〝 yeah, yeah. 'affection' my ass. i know what you keep me around for, you just like fuckin' with me. 〞 husk says it with decades' worth of resignation in his voice.

〝 besides the fact that you've had my immortal fuckin' soul in your back pocket since the eighties? come off it, al. i know when i'm expected to be a good soldier. you don't need to pretend that this is somethin' it's not. 〞

〝 don't ask questions you aren't prepared to learn the answers to, chuck. 〞

he just grunts at that. some might say fighting in two wars was his choice, too. 〝 sure. thanks for keepin' me a little safer than the other drunken bums out on the street. is that what you wanna hear? 〞 he doesn't want to be having this conversation.

〝 uh. 〞 hygiene check? satan, just let him be a grubby, drunk old man in peace. 〝 ... yeah. soap & everything. don't sniff me. 〞

damn, there go his scritches. too bad, but he'd rather not get them if alastor's going to be acting like this. 〝 grateful. that's a fuckin' laugh. look me in the face & tell me honestly that you give a shit about me past bein' a good game piece for your crazy schemes, al. 〞

〝 ... spring water. 〞 he's furiously wracking his brains for the last kind of soap he used, & hoping it's not obvious to the princess. 〝 i'd rather not smell like fuckin' potpourri, personally. am i clear? 〞

the smile disappearing, even for a moment, takes husk aback more than anything alastor could possibly say. 〝 ... you know i don't speak french. 〞 he's deflecting. even if he can't understand the words, the tone is unmistakeable.

he just rumbles noncommittally, his ears going flat at both the unexpected show of affection & the continued scritching. 〝 doubt it. my head's full up of enough languages for two lifetimes already. ... thought you didn't care about anybody. you're the fuckin' radio demon. 〞

the smile reappearing puts him more at ease. 〝 mh. & what's so special about me, then, that i'm one of those things? 〞 it's partially knee-jerk resistance to the idea of being cared about, especially by alastor, but... part of him genuinely does want to know.

〝 right... 〞 he is curious. this has never really been a conversation over the decades that husk has been working for alastor. there's a slight purr in the back of his throat, now. 〝 so, what, do i get a pass from all that 'fiery pit of failure' stuff? 〞

〝 ... so i 𝗮𝗺 a fuckin' clown to you. good to know. 〞 he gives a scoffing little chuckle & shakes his head against alastor's hand. thank satan the tension's been broken. 〝 well, uh. thanks. & i mean that one. not many people've shown me much... compassion. 〞

〝 brash? is that what you call me? no, it's 'cause i'm a grumpy, drunk old asshole who hates everybody including himself. even before i landed myself down here, i just holed up, drinking & feeling sorry for myself. not exactly the type most people feel sympathetic for. 〞