“Okay… I gotta know… do we gotta give you regular flea treatments or…?”
The silence was loud a beat after Molly had asked her riling question. The bartender fixed her with eyes that shone warning - a look that would have terrified any other sinner whose finger he was wrapped around.
With a jarring clink, Husk set down the glass he had been polishing. Leveling his face with the young spider’s, Husk took her by the jaw and held her gaze.
“It’s a good thing your smart moutha yours is so pretty, doll. Last person who asked me dumb shit like that learned the hard way.” A claw swiped over Molly’s lower lip before he added, “in short, no.”














