Velvet, what even happened to Husker?
Velvette: So get this, we're fightin' the Radio Demon when his little posse shows up, right? My sister's always sendin' me junk about 'im an' Angel Dust- sometimes shows up with the kitty here when she's not dense enough to try walkin' outside on her own.
Anyways, I've got the old bugger pinned down, when Val comes over and hands me the little rat with a knife to deal with while he "vented his frustrations" as the legal team calls it. Between you and me, it was more like a game of "how many times can Val slam someone into a wall before they stop functioning".
Now, I woulda let 'im have his fun, but unfortunately I know this idiot, and I've got enough problems in my afterlife without my psycho sister sendin' her little reptiles after my head, or those little figurines of hers to disassemble me in the middle of the night again.
So, I'm no idiot, and I see Val pulling out his gun again to start unloadin, and I know he likes to play a little roulette by puttin' one angelic bullet in the chamber just for kicks. Fabric-eatin' lunatic got at least three in before Vox and I got 'im to cool off.
By some miracle, this fleabag's still breathin', but his eyes'd gone all weird and offcenter. Right about that point is when Alastor made that deal with Vox.
Thing is, he not messin' with the princess and lettin' those two powerhouses run free was gonna cost a lot more than the radio demon as a captive. 'Sides, wasn't like he was gonna make it much of anywhere with that little cyclops draggin' 'im through the streets.
So, we said we'd keep the furball alive, let one-eye go, and leave the princess be if one of us got the cat's soul in exchange. Again, Vox has seen my sister on a bad day, so obviously I was the one who got 'im 'stead of Valentino.
Husk: (As she starts to absentmindedly pet the side of his face, he starts to quietly purr)
Velvette: Thing is, now I've got a former overlord on my hands and nothin' to do with 'im till he's- you know- not dyin' and such.
He's not exactly model-physique, but I might see if he dresses up nicely once you get a shirt on 'im. I might need a personal assistant, or a bodyguard... Other than that, for now, he makes for a good weighted blanket, I suppose.
You little floaty things are great for gossip... just don't tell my sister about this, okay? I need at least fifteen coffees in the morning before I even consider dealin' with that nightmare. She'll see the news eventually, I'm sure.