Proposal

Chapter 7

Husker sat there on the stool, staring down at the bar top instead of his usual daily tasks. He just didn't have the energy for anything more than that at the moment. His body still ached from the nigh before, but more so his heart. Normally he saw Angel home, and that day he hadn't. He didn't even know when the spider had actually gotten back. What he did know, was that he'd spent the entire day locked away in his room, refusing to see anyone. Alastor had tried a few times to get him to open the door, but he'd straight up ignored him. He knew that any other Overlord would have simply broken the door down and forced him to do whatever it was they wanted, but not Alastor. He had simply asked if Husker was having a bad day, to which he'd replied "yes". After that, the man hadn't shown up at his door again. He had noticed, later on, while he was awake and huddled in a corner across from the door, trying desperately to hold himself together, someone's shadow underneath his door. Nobody had spoken, and they hadn't knocked, they'd just stood outside his room, staring at the door, before turning and leaving. When he'd dared to approach it to see if he could tell who it was, he picked up the scent of lavender and sandalwood with hints of cigarette smoke.

Angel. A curiosity in him made him question why the spider had come up in the first place only to say nothing and leave. Another part of him didn't want to know. Now, sitting here, he convinced his sore body to look up at the lobby and take in all of the things he could. Little things like how Charlie and Vaggie had started replacing the furniture in it. The once decrepit old couch had either been replaced with one exactly like it, or it had been reupholstered. He was willing to bet that this one was just a better kept version from somewhere else in the hotel. The cobwebs, grime, and trash that had been lying around had been easily swept away by Niffty, and Alastor had clearly fixed the loose beams. A few of the paintings that had been on the walls, the ones of Charlie in her younger years, had been removed, leaving only a few showing her and her family or her with Vaggie. Alastor had tried to convince her to get a portrait done of her fighting the reporter, Katie Killjoy, but she'd refused and he couldn't blame her.

The place looked almost presentable now. "So, what would you do next, Husker my friend?" Jumping out of his own thoughts, he looked across the bar at Alastor and huffed a sigh.

"What do you want my opinion for?" Alastor didn't have to think about the answer, clearly.

"Husker, outside of here, you run the most successful bar and casino in the entire pride ring! This is what I really called you here for, not just your drinks expertise. You know how to dress things up to make the people come, even if you don't dress yourself up for them." He didn't even have he energy to roll his eyes, or he swore he would have.

"You called me here... because you want me to give you interior design advice? For a place that... isn't for sinning?" Cocking a brow, he stared at the radio demon in skepticism, but the man kept smiling at him.

"Of course! I've been inside The Dead Man's Hand, and I know what you started it with. That used to be an old warehouse with nothing, and you turned it into a glittering gem of a masterpiece." The man leaned against the bar, his smile growing wider. "So, what would you do next to this lobby to make it more inviting?" Husker looked around the room once more, pointing out little things he'd change.

"Firstly? The lighting. It's way to dark in this place for clients. Now, I like it, but I'm a raging alcoholic, so..." He shrugged. "Next, the walls."

"What's wrong with the walls?" They both stopped and turned toward Charlie and Vaggie as the girls walked up. Charlie looked confused, but also intrigued about the conversation.

"They're out dated... by like... decades. The wallpaper is torn and stained, the color is dark and faded, and the pattern is clearly your fathers, not yours. It's not inviting, it's more like a dark cave people are stepping into. Tear it out and replace it with some softer, more inviting colors like creams or greens." The two women stared at him with wide eyes. "Oh, don't give me that look. I've been doing this for so long, I noticed all this shit within the first day of sitting at this bar." Leaning against the bar top, he looked around the room again and thought of any other changes he might make. "Plants."