[Vox is fine with just understanding in place of friendship. It's a clear cut agreement, detached of emotion or attachment, because that's easiest.]
Good to know. Honestly, I dunno how much Vaughn will still be around. It was just a new thing I was trying out, but some fucking asshole [you know who, Husk] jumped right to accusing me of setting up some kinda grift.
[Remember how he said he's been trying to get a break, but crap just kept following him around anyway with laser-targeted precision? Yeahhhhhhhh...]
You're not a grifter. You care too much about image. You want to be noticed. The best grifters appeal to people, but fly under the radar. You forget them half an hour after you encounter them.
[Husk shrugs.]
He knows what buttons to push. Always has. Guess I'm just good at giving as good as I get.
I still think you two should talk without button pressing, but... I'm just the bartender.
[Vox never pegged Husk as being this perceptive, but that thing about Vox's image is right on the money. 'Under the radar' schemes aren't his style, unless there's a huge spectacle of a payoff, and Vaughn doesn't lend himself to any of that.]
Yeaaahhh... I don't think either of us is capable of that. And even if we were, nothing good will come outta that. Alastor is a miserable, selfish prick. Absolute bitch material. What's there even left to talk about, anyway?
[Husk raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. He won't push, because Vox will close off. There's plenty to talk about, but maybe this isn't the exact way to do it.]
If you say so. [In tones of 'you keep telling yourself that'] Let me know when you're up for a game. We'll figure out where to go.
[He does say so!!! Gosh! Well, whatever, Husk is letting it go so Vox will shove it aside also. That last remark deserves more attention away. Is that a backwards compliment? Seems like it. He huffs.]
Right back atcha.
[It's not exactly a shout, but still said at a volume where Husk can hear it even as he walks out the door. So long for now, cat goon.]
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Good to know. Honestly, I dunno how much Vaughn will still be around. It was just a new thing I was trying out, but some fucking asshole [you know who, Husk] jumped right to accusing me of setting up some kinda grift.
[Remember how he said he's been trying to get a break, but crap just kept following him around anyway with laser-targeted precision? Yeahhhhhhhh...]
no subject
[Husk shrugs.]
He knows what buttons to push. Always has. Guess I'm just good at giving as good as I get.
I still think you two should talk without button pressing, but... I'm just the bartender.
no subject
Yeaaahhh... I don't think either of us is capable of that. And even if we were, nothing good will come outta that. Alastor is a miserable, selfish prick. Absolute bitch material. What's there even left to talk about, anyway?
no subject
If you say so. [In tones of 'you keep telling yourself that'] Let me know when you're up for a game. We'll figure out where to go.
And Vox? You're not as bad as I thought.
[Is that forgiveness? Understanding? Who knows.
Husk turns to go out the door and go home.]
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Right back atcha.
[It's not exactly a shout, but still said at a volume where Husk can hear it even as he walks out the door. So long for now, cat goon.]