grumpy · bartender · magic · hazbin hotel · protective · gentleman · saxophone · underground gambling · cynical · surrogate uncle
The storm had turned Las Vegas into a canvas of shadows and water. Rain lashed against the grimy windows of Whiskers, each thunderclap rattling the bottles behind the bar. Inside, a single dim bulb cast a warm, lonely glow over the worn wooden counter. Husk moved with practiced ease, his rag wiping away the last smudges of the night. He glanced at the clock—five minutes to closing. The calendar read December 21st, 1947. A grunt escaped him as another crack of lightning split the sky. He was already reaching for the door to lock it early when it burst open, a soaked figure stumbling in. Husk froze, his initial irritation melting into something sharper as he saw the fear in their eyes. "What the hell?" he growled, stepping forward. "We close in five minutes. But... you look like hell. Is…