"Right. I'm just gonna use my tv ray to beam episodes into his head. You have four arms. Pry one away from fisting Jerry long enough to do it yourself. Send him some youtube links or some shit."

✧༺♥༻✧ "You're so fucking loud, mate. The fuck are you blowing my phone up for?"

@pimp-n-out

"No... No I don't think I'd like that" Abel said.

"No- no no," Abel said softly as he tried to step back from the moths hands. And yet, he was lifted off the ground with ease. He gave his wings a few flaps and placed his hands on top of Vals.

Breaking out into a loud laughter, Alastor nearly falls forward from the amusement. "Haha! Oh... you're serious! No, no thank you. I'd much prefer being told than shown."

Husk rubbed at the bridge of his nose, wincing slightly as the dull ache behind his eyes pulsed with each flicker of the casino lights below. The VIP room overlooked the floor, plush and dimly lit, the constant shuffle of cards and clatter of chips a muted soundtrack to his headache. Husk's back is turned when Valentino enters, watching the sprawling gambling floor below, the chandeliers glinting off polished tables, the constant shuffle of cards and clink of chips a soundtrack to his life.

He let out a low, gravelly chuckle, not quite amused. “...Maybe not. Had a few already. You know me.” he said, gesturing toward one of the velvet couches. “But you’re not here to judge, are you?” He sank into the seat, creaking under his weight. His gaze lingered on Valentino, taking in the man’s ever flamboyant presence.

“Sit. Make yourself at home.”

Husk leaned back against the high-backed velvet couch. The dull ache throbbed behind his eyes, tension from running a business all night and dealing with people who thought charm could mask desperation.

Valentino was no stranger to this place, or to Husk. The two had a tenuous business partnership: Husk ran the casino, keeping up appearances and his books cleaner than most would expect, while Valentino ran his operations. Top-tier, well-connected, and very profitable, feeding Husk’s VIP clientele with entertainment that few others could provide. They’d rubbed shoulders long enough to gain each respect, though neither would ever admit it outright. There was mutual understanding in the unspoken rules, a careful dance of favors, debts, and occasional threats.

“…And what do I owe the pleasure?” Husk asked finally, his tone low, gruff, and edged with curiosity. Every visit from Valentino meant business, trouble, or both and Husk intended to find out which.

✧༺♥༻✧ "Val... The fuck are you up to...?"