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It's been a bit of a strange night.
One of those rare nights in which Vaggie decided to take a bit of time to unwind before heading up to her and Charlie's room for bed.
She sits quietly at the bar in front of Husk, - with whom she currently has going a comfortable coexistence - nursing a plain whiskey. Husk had given her a questioning look at the drink request, not expecting the two of them to have similar taste in booze, but all while beginning to pour it for her anyway, claiming 'm not complainin', though.That's an easy one.
And easy it must've been, compared to what Husk begins to make next. She watches silently, amusedly as the bartender concocts some fruity, disgustingly pink drink that looks much too sweet, all in a little martini glass with one of those damn mini umbrellas that Vaggie didn't even know he had stocked back there.
The angel lets out a snort. "Didn't take you for a...whatever that is," she gestures to the cocktail, "type of guy."
The bartender looks away, seemingly embarrassed. "Well. It's, uh, not for me."
Vaggie hums, small smile on her face. "Niffty?" She's teasing him. She knows exactly who the drink is for, but boy is it entertaining to watch confusion and a bit of skepticism creep onto Husk's face before he tells her no.
It's only when he looks her in the eye and sees her smug expression does he really realize she's joking. He grumbles to himself, face all red, before turning away again.
Vaggie sips at her drink. "You wait here for him to get back every damn night. Don't think I hadn't noticed."
Husk only heaves a sigh in response.
"Y'know, it's okay to care, Husk." The cat just looks at her silently; unconvinced. "I mean it. It's actually nice to see you care for someone like that. I didn't know you could. No offense."
Husk sighs again, deeper this time, like it's all he can do. He's quiet for a few moments and at first Vaggie thinks he won't respond at all. Until he looks her right in the eye, pinning her gaze with his, and opens his mouth to speak.
"I didn't know I could, either. I thought I lost that ability a long time ago."
"The ability to care?"
"That, and...well, the ability to love, I guess."
Vaggie widens her eye at him, but then finds that she's smiling.
"You love him?"
She expects to fluster him with the question; to hear him grumble, his face heating up again as he contemplates his response. But he simply tells her yeah, arms crossed in front of him, as if the answer is information as simple as the spelling of his own name.
"And it's honestly been scarin' me shitless."
Vaggie sets down her glass, folding her arms over the countertop. "Yeah. I know exactly what you mean."
"...Really?"
She nods. "Well, before Charlie found me, I was just like you. Didn't even think I was capable of love, let alone of being loved. When I realized that both of those things were being made possible with Charlie, everything was so new. So life-changing. Every thought, every feeling, every...possibility." A fond smile creeps it's way onto her face. "Charlie is the best goddamn thing that ever happened to me. But I'd be lying if I said falling for her wasn't scary as all hell."
Husk snorts. "Was that a pun?"
"What?"
"'Falling for her'?"
It's Vaggie's turn to sigh. "You're changing the subject."
Snatching her finished drink, Husk turns away from her and mutters something unintelligible under his breath. He goes to start cleaning and putting away Vaggie's empty glass, probably in attempt to let her know he wants to be done with this conversation. Well, too bad.
"Look, I don't mean to pry. But-"
"What do you want me to say? I'm so bad at all of this shit. I don't know what to fucking do with it all."
Vaggie straightens in her seat, scrambling for something to say.
"Fuck," Husk continues softly, almost to himself. "Why does he make me feel so much?"
Vaggie doesn't miss the way his gaze snags on the untouched cocktail still sitting on the counter a few seats away.
"He's usually back by now," the bartender says quietly after a minute. "I thought he would be."
"Do you think something's wrong? His drink is getting gross."
Husk shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, but Vaggie notices the furrow in his brow and the tension in his shoulders. He's worried.
"Something's always wrong. It's always the same shit with Valentino. Angel'l be okay. And if he isn't...well. I'll be there to pick up the pieces, I guess."
Vaggie just stares at him. He's so... different than when she first met him; when she thought he was nothing but a grumpy, old alcoholic without a heart and without a fuck to give unless it involved booze or placing bets. Dare she say that Angel had a positive influence on him? Was that even possible?
"Well, shit. You really do love him."
"You be quiet," Husk retaliates without any real malice. In fact, there's a fondness to his tone that Vaggie thinks she'd like to get used to.
Just as they arrive at a comfortable lull in the conversation, the soft click of the main hotel doors opening can be heard, and two heads whip toward the sound as an exhausted and disheveled (but otherwise in one piece) Angel Dust stumbles through. He's mumbling to himself, probably profanities, until he looks up and raises a brow at Vaggie sitting at the bar. An unexpected patron.
"Well, that's my cue," she announces to Husk as she begins to get up. She turns to head upstairs, though not before saying, low enough so that Angel doesn't hear, "Good luck. You'll need it."
Husk huffs. "'Night, Vagina." He says this loudly on purpose, and Angel snickers. Vaggie clicks her tongue and throws her hands up, looking to the arachnid as he sits down in front of his pre-made drink.
"Jesus, see what you did? You two have been spending too much time together."
Husk agreed, though he couldn't complain.