Pro Bono Prostitute
Where's the Booze?
“Al, I gotta hand it to ya,” Angel said with his usual sly look, “Your puns are worthy of an open mic night at one of the clubs I dance at sometimes.”
The Radio Demon turned his head to focus on the lanky spider and laughed. “Hoho! You demons are too kind sometimes! It’s a shame you’re stuck down here in this hellscape!”
God, Husker thought to himself as he trailed behind the group, whatta bunch of insufferable freaks. First the fruity bitch, and now the Radio Bastard and Kinky boots over here.
He wanted to drink. Plain and simple. He wanted to drink and forget that the stupid smiley red bastard had ever fucked him over.
“I’m callin’ a cab. I’m thirsty and I’m tired of you cocksuckers.” He curtly flipped them all off, and whistled to a cab a block over. “Cocksucker?” Angel’s mismatched eyes lit up. “Shut your damn mouth.”
Husker had chosen the room closest to the bar as his quarters while they were working on getting the place up to code. It was a small room with only a single bed and a TV roughly the size of his head. But, of course, being a feline by nature, husker found the enclosed, hard-to-reach spaces in every place he went, so he found the hidden booze stash in mere minutes upon being so politely asked to work the front desk by his best friend Alastor.
But when he entered his safe space, there was something already there. It had 4, sometimes six arms, two booted, white legs, and a smirk that could suck a dick without ever even touching it.