bartenderbitch | Inbox for TLV

[At least he seems more calm when he has his tail wrapped around him like this, seeming to not like talking about this, for obvious reasons. But he's able to talk about it like this, which is... progress?]

Dunno, that's the whole thing. It's not like I haven't hit bad streaks of luck before, but it's never been something that bad or as quick as it was. Whether it was just my luck turning bad or something else, couldn't quite say. [Nor does he particularly have proof that it was anyone's doing, but he's had... suspicions from time to time.]

My bets would be on something else. Especially if Alastor was waiting in the wings with a deal that was too good to be true.

[Maybe it's just his natural suspicion but that's how it reads to him.

Whatever it was, it isn't as if it changes anything now.]

'S it really that weird to you to be getting this kind of attention, though?

Problem is, he wasn't the only one that wanted to see my downfall and would take the opportunity to swoop in if they could. Overlords ain't the types to befriend each other, but more likely to wait until someone's weak and take what they can to boost themselves. [He wouldn't doubt that Alastor would put that together and be there waiting, but he doesn't have proof, unfortunately.

He huffs softly in turn, trying to smooth over his own bristled fur.]

No. I was a performer up top and a gambler then, too, used to having eyes on me.

Mmhm. Says the guy in shorts and a hoodie hiding in my cabin.

[He chuckles lightly as he finally works his hand underneath the hood to push it down and free Husk's ears.]

It's fine. You can hide out here as long as you want. I can get Angel to pick you up later.

[Look! Don't you judge him! He doesn't fight him as he pushes the hood down, though does pin his ears for a brief moment only to make it easier to get said hood off.]

I didn't say I didn't have trauma around that shit, like I already said! Just... I used to be used to that kind of attention. Shit, wouldn't have done a lot of stuff I did when I was alive if I had an issue with spotlight back then.

[Cain just hums.]

Think you could learn to enjoy it?

[His head cocks as he looks down at Husk, two fingers sliding back behind his ear to scratch gently there.]

I mean think about it, Husk. This isn't Hell. Alastor's not fucking here. You don't need to be an ex-Overlord or a bartender or a fucking victim. You don't have to worry about someone yanking on your leash. You can do anything you want.

Dunno, been pretty reclusive most of the time since I've been dead, even before things went to shit. [Even then, as an Overlord, he hung around in his casino(s) and didn't bother going to the meetings or anything else most of the time. He had been an old man and who wanted an old man in the spotlight, right?

Luckily he seems to calm somewhat at the gentle scratching, a frown crossing his lips.]

Yeah, I... guess that's true. Admittedly, I don't mind the whole bartending bit, you hear a lot of shit while back there and sometimes it's worth it. And my brand of entertainment ain't exactly something most people cared about and I don't think I was good at it to begin with. [Something he's quite keen to play down, if he were perfectly honest.] Shit, I ditched my name the second I died.

You still owe me a magic show.

[Amused.

He curls his arm carefully around the demon's head to nudge him in closer, giving him a dark and quiet spot to tuck himself into if he wants. Kind of like a cat might.]

Haven't forgotten. You got a stage name to go with it?

I wasn't that good at it...

[Says the complainer as he absolutely takes that offer to tuck himself into the offered dark spot, grumbling quietly to himself as he does so. How absolutely dare him right now.]

Nah, stage names were fuckin' stupid, just used my regular-ass name. Sounded exotic enough to most folks that were there, anyway.

[Grumbly cat noises. Adorable.]

You gonna say what that name was, or just be vague as fuck about it until one of us changes the subject?

[He's not gonna push it but the topic is right there. And, well, maybe the whole names thing is an issue in the forefront of his mind right now.]

[The most grumbly and offended of cats at this moment.]

... Nikolai. [It's more muffled muttered than anything else he's said thus far, it sounds so weird in his mouth after all these years.]

Nikolai?

[Muffled and grumbly as it was, he picked it out. He gives one of those large ears another gentle scritch.]

Nice. 'S a good name.

[He wants to keep being grumbly about everything, but it's hard when he's getting ear scritches of all things.]

Don't fuckin' lie to me like that, it's generic as shit. [Is it, though?] Named me after some fuckin' ruler back in the motherland or whatever as if I'd care.

... You're talking to a guy called Alexei.

[Cain rolls his eyes. As if Alexei isn't one of the most common and generic Russian names there is.]

At least neither of us are called fucking Ivan.

[Okay, admittedly, that does actually get a laugh out of him. It could be worse.]

Guess so. Don't think I'd suit Ivan, got too much brains for that. [HUSK, BAD.] The most generic as shit Russian names club, the members being us.

[He quiets a moment, shifts a bit, then snorts out a laugh.]

I was nearly called Sasha. I'll take Alexei any day of the week.

[It gets a little less strange every time he says it out loud.]

Can you fucking imagine?

[A little less strange for him, perhaps, but Husk's still not quite sure he likes the idea of his old human name. After all, he's not that anymore, right? Nah.]

See, when I think Sasha I think of some skinny kid I could throw over my shoulder like it's nothing. So you absolutely ain't a Sasha.

Never been the skinny kid anyone could throw over their shoulder. [He tilts his head slightly.]

... Well...

[Then he moves, reaching over Husk to the drawer in the table next to the bed. He pulls pulls out a small box, taps his fingers on the lid, then opens it.

There are a few things inside. A couple of folded pieces of paper, some little trinkets, and a few photographs.]

... Not since my sister could still do it, I guess.

[Somehow he's not surprised that Cain was never one of those types, but he does blink and looks up curiously to see what he's up to and really has no idea what he's up to until he's actually opening up the small box. His attention switches between the box and Cain's face, ears pushed forward to further push the curiosity narrative.]

Yeah? I was an only kid, so I can't really relate on that front... [Probably for the better, when he thinks about his childhood, but that doesn't matter at this moment.]

I have an older sister. Calina.

[He tilts the photo in his hand so Husk can see it. It's of three people huddled together on the steps of a house in the snow. One of them is clearly Cain, though quite young, along with a slightly older girl and a woman who is obviously their mother. They're all smiling like someone just said something to make them laugh.]

And that's my mom. Ulyana. [Husk may note there that the name he gave - Alexei Ulovich - comes from his mother, not his father.]

I remember this being taken.

[Slowly he nods in response, looking at the picture and tilting his head somewhat as he regards it. It's... nice, in a way, to know that things were relatively normal by appearances. At least at some point for Cain, but that was how it always went, wasn't it? Things were normal and then suddenly the rug was pulled out from under you and you had to struggle to get back to some semblance of normal.

He doesn't comment on the name thing, at least not for now, though he keeps it in the back of his mind.]

All of you looked happy back then, normal childhood? [He... suspects, at least. But he's merely prodding at him to get him to continue on with his thoughts about everything, even while curling his tail around Cain's waist with a comforting bit of pressure.]

[He huffs a soft breath out through his nose.]

Yeah. Colony life is... it's fucking hard. They have us shoved out in buttfuck nowhere and it's cold all the time, no prospects for much of anything except working the factories.

[Cain's voice trails off and he rubs his thumb gently against the photograph.]

I was really young when our dad died. It was an accident, they said. My mom, she tried really fucking hard with me, but...

[Shrug.]

[Oof, that... sounds like a story he's heard before, even if it wasn't his own. The early 1900s weren't exactly sunshine and rainbows, especially for immigrants from what he could remember. He shifts slowly to nuzzle into his shoulder with a low purr, just trying to make him feel a little better about everything at least.]

Sounds like some utter bullshit, but guess times didn't really change with the higher ups fucking over everyone below them. And... I think you turned out fine, sometimes you gotta go through a rough patch before you come out with the good from it all. [Ironic, considering how Husk acts on the daily when it comes to his own self, but he's more content not looking at that statement closer. It's not about himself, after all.]

Better than running off thinking you're gonna find your fortune.

... I went to prison, Husk.

[Had he mentioned that? God, he'd take running off to find his fortune over the shitty decisions he made that led him to that conclusion.]

I was fucking seventeen.

[IF HE DID, HE DID NOT REALLY CONNECT THE DOTS, CAIN. He goes quiet for the longest moment, burying his face back into him with a low grumbling noise. Okay, that was stupid, he tried to do something and it was stupid.]

Fucking forget I said anything.

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