Chapter Text
[1]
" I'm not too gone, the TV's on Until I learned a simple way to pretend that we're in 1987 " —1987 (Phoneboy)
Everything has a beggining. Vox and Alastor had one. A story so long it marked the media demon for years, decades, almost a century. And their beggining was, surprisingly, not in hell itself. Their first encounter happened when they were both still breathing. When Vox wasn't the CEO of a giant and legally dubious company in hell, and when Alastor, definitely wasn't the radio demon with a power everyone wished they had.
When Vox was Neuman, he met Alastor back in 1926. His memory was still fresh for an old man, he could close his eyes and travel back in time. He was a tall light-skinned caucasian man. Back in that time he had a human head and the appareance of a normal man, normal aside from his heterochromia but attractive enough to get potential partners and to look good if he fixed himself up a certain way. Perfect for someone like him.
Louisiana was a wonderful place. At least for someone like Neuman. Vix would say years later, after a couple cups in his system, that it was a complete shithole, but his human self was a new face in a new place, barely aware of the years to come. Neuman was too simple to really care about what happened around him unless it directly involved him. Which luckily wouldn't happen in the long term, already tired of changing city and state with certain frequency.
The United States was in its golden age. Only 6 years back women voted for the first time, businesses grew, money was abundant. They were living the american dream. And Neuman. He decided to take advantage and take a change of pace at his 21 years. Everyone always talked about how different the south was so, why not? Vox nowadays would laugh at his younger self. Thinking of himself as naive when they both knew why Louisiana was the best place to go unnoticed, a young worthless thief, at best you could call him a scammer.
He applied for a small job as a printing assistant for the local diary in New Orleans. It wasn't what he would've wanted but it was a start. Besides, he had editorial and printing experience (Faking his identity to pass as an adult, just small details), of course, having learned from the hard work from before the industrial revoltuion and being witness as to the staff slowly changing from men to women that appeared to be forced into it. . To leave their homes to earn a living while their husbands went to the war. Just for them to be asked to leave their posts and to return to being the obedient housewifes they always were when germany accepted defeat. A status quo that was slowly breaking, and one that men were holding on to with the little pride they had left. Neuman couldn't care less, a worker is a worker, man or woman. He saw them prove that they were more than just an accesory, he saw female coworkers who kept their heads high while they learned from scratch to handle machinery that years before nobody would think they would use. For Neuman (and Vox), this was the most important thing.
The awaited Mardi Gras was just a day away from being held when his move ended. He was staying a couple blocks away from Frenchmen street, being able to watch the wonderful daiy parade from afar. He couldn't lie, he was excited about taking part in a carnival for the first time in his life, his jovial side was excited with the idea of going out and having fun, spending some time before the start of the holy week. If a parade this small could look so colorful and exciting, he couldn't help but wonder how it would look on the bigger streets in the city.
Going out to drink was also on his list. That same night, when the joy of the parades where at their highest point, his feet dragged along the city streets until bumping into a Bourbon bar, filled with tourists that just like him decided to enjoy the culture New Orleans could offer. Seeing young ladies with uncovered knees stopped being as scandalous but it was just as surprising to see the new cuts in their skirts that waved to the rhythm of the Jazz in the background. Some dirty men would see them as a delight, and some of the women used this to take advantage of them. The dancers in specific, they would highlight their figures in beautiful dresses and fluffy scarves, offering a beautiful spectacle. Neuman was to sobre to join the lively celebration, prefering to enjoy a glass of whiskey with the calmness of a man who just wanted to be a spectator of what would be his new life.
At least that was the case during the first glasses. By the third glass he noticed someone entering the bar and sitting a couple chairs away from him.
A woman with round glasses and and brown hair in tied neatly into a bun. A normal sight were it not for the conservative clothes she wore. A simple skirt that completely covered her legs and a feminine coat over her shoulder that covered her chest but maintained her curves, with no cleavage showing under it. She looked too formal for a bar, standing out by herself. Even then, nobody but Neuman turned to look at her. Well, aside from the barman who seemed to have recognized her inmediately.
"Alice, the usual?" Neuman still struggled to understand the creole accent from traditional american, but he tried. The barman was already taking some bottles from the counter as the woman relaxed her apparently tense shoulders and nodded.
"Please my friend" a voice thick for a woman surprised him. The creole was very noticeable in her accent but she managed her english better than the man preparing her drink. "Is mimzy not here today?"
"Oh, that bitch" the derogative tone was noticeable along with the sound of the cup being placed down on the old oak surface of the bar they were sat at. "Who knows where she is." "Definitely not dead, the day she is I'll throw a party"
"Oh, how wonderful!" "Don't you think so too? Listening in to our conversation so attentively?"
Neuman almost choked on his drink when two pairs of eyes turned to look at him, one of them more surprised than the other. The barman didn't seem too happy to have caught him spying on their conversation with someone he seemed to be very closed to. The woman (Alice, woulda remind him), found the whole situation very fun ("Your blushing face looked adorable back when you were alive" alastor would say years later, "It was cute how you would get flustered easily, your red would go red and your eye would twitch. But hey! Even with your current look you still have some charm, dear." Vox would deny everything as he felt in the verge of a short circuit from the embarassment.) Her smile would widen until the point where she couldn't hold her laugher. She picked up her drink and took a long gulp, one could notice how the liquid went through her throat quickly. Something that wouldn't be ideal if you didn't want to get drunk so quickly, but the woman couldn't care less. And even then, she carried the typical elegance of a well-mannered woman from before the 20s, the grace with which she held her glass would put to shame even the finest of socialites. She seemed to be a master in turning the most vulgar of acts into a show of beauty and etiquete.
After putting down her drink, she motioned for him to come near. Despite the embarassment that she caused him by finding him snooping on their bussiness, she didn't seem mad. She seemed delighted to have another listener rather than disgusted by the poorly manneerd behavior (Why, you ask? I thought it'd be fun to tease you a little more!") and so, braving up, and maybe due to the alcohol setting down in his system, he decided to follow along. The woman looked delighted, clapping like an owner would do to their puppy being trained.
(Vox laughs at this last comment, knowing perfectly this would be so "Alastor" as to just be a coincidence)
"So?" She started, letting her drink sway in her glass as she gently spun it with her hand, never losing her smile. And the barman? It was already some time ago since he had left them alone, tending to more clients that were coming into the establishment- "What's your name, good man?"
"is it normal for young ladies here to ask the name of unknown men or is that just you?" Neuman couldn't help but raise his eyebrow.
"Oh, you flatter me! I'm not that young, I'm 23. According to the laws here, I'm already considered of age since 21" And as if to prove her point, she took another gulp of her drink.
"Well, in general, no mater how old you are, talking to a man you don't know isn't the smartest thing to do."
"You say that as if men acted like animals"
"Don't they? At least, you know, most idiot drunks that don't know how to control themselves."
She seemed to nod in agreement.
"My mother, may she rest in peace, would agree with you, let me tell you." Oh, how she hated them! She even got to the point of calling them a species different from the average man, drunks addicted to betting and disgusting acts" The woman rambled joyfully, as if she wasn't describing what would be 80% of the people at the bar (Maybe even him, considering the sarcasm in her voice) "Even then, I don't think you'd be able to hurt me" she insisted, now Neuman drank from his own, almost-forgotten glass. "You look too smart to want to participate in this kind of... vulgar activity. A good man, I mean.
"Now you're the one flattering me" He playfully answered back, earning another laugh from the woman in exchange (Even with the lower pitch her voice had a feminine and kind tone). "Neuman."
"Alice," she introduced herself" though you probably already knew, you little spy.
"In my defense, you were talking loud enough not to avoid listening in."
"Hmmm..." Alice seemed to agree "I won't deny it, it's wonderful to have everyone's eyes on you"
"You've got the charm, I think you're on the right track."
"And you're a natural charmer, you'll go far with that mouth of yours. Many young ladies would say that a complacent and flattering man would have the potential to be a good husband."
Her words, even though they had a satirical tone that told one not to take them too seriously, did a lot for his self-esteem. And it wasn't as if Neuman considered himself unnatractive for the ladies of the time (Come on, he had the voice and the body to get one-night stands and he could prove it), but there was something in Alice's grace that made those words, which would carry no importance said by anyone else, have some value. He knew that, at least, he should feel offended, but he couldn't. Maybe it was part of that woman's charm, maybe it was the strength of the whiskey in his system, who knows. Alice frowned with surprise seeing it was now Neuman who laughed.
"Does that mean that I'm your type of man? I'm flattered, really, you make me blush. Though I think this is the sort of thing you'd say after the first date" Neuman stared at her entertained seeing her blink like an owl, in disbelief to the sort of answer a half-drunk man had just given her" Although, looking closer, it seemed as if the malicious shine in her eyes faded away, leaving something completely different.
By the time she snapped out of it, a sigh left her lips. Neuman smiled more, letting his laughter leave his throat, burning from the alcohol he had drunk like an open faucet. Alice seemed to have decided to join his laughter that slowly grew stronger. They both laughed, barely drowned out by the swing in the background and the mumbling of the drunken man mingling with the dancers and their scandalous dresses. They laughed until neither one of them knew exactly why they were.
It was silly, but it wasn't until his lungs started to run out of air and he had to cough from the burning in his throat that his laughter started to go down. It didn't fully stop though, it came back as if he couldn't hold it back, and honestly, he didn't mind. By the time they managed to calm down, Alice was wiping the tears stuck at the edge of her eyes from so much laughing.
(... Looking closer, it seemed now that her eyelids seemed to have a darker skin tone than the rest of her body Though he quickly assumed it was some washed out makeup or a hallucination from being drank, it was an interesting detail to notice).
"You're such a character, did anyone ever tell you that?"
"Hmmm, being an idiot is definitely one of my attributes."
"Making others laugh is a whole specialty, you should be proud. You could work as a radio host if you wanted to."
"You really think so?" Alice nodded "Well I think you have the charm to do so. I mean, look at me" Neuman points to himself before taking another gulp "You have me listening to you for a while already and we've just met".
If the small laughter hidden between her thin fingers was a sign he was doing things right, Neumen could feel proud about himself for it.
"So... is this an invitation?"
Neuman could only say yes, smiling more than ever. The radio playing background music was the only source of noise that could be heard in that god-foresaken Bourbon bar.
[2]
" I turn to my right, she says: "why do we have to end the night?" So we won't " —Hey, kid! (phoneboy)
Turns out he would see Alice again much sooner than he thought.
"Hey, Neuman, right?" Alice smiled as she gestured with her hand to greet him (Neuman noticed that Alice now seemed to speak with a transatlantic accent, leaving behind the slight creole sound she had spoken with at the bar that night) "What a coincidence!"
Just like that time at the start of Mardi Grasas, she wore simple clothing that din't let even a centimeter of skin or curves show, neat hair and tied into a ponytail that let her see what she had in front of her, which was printings . from the next day's newspaper that had finished drying. The rotary printing presses continued doing their job, making metalic noises while the paper press sheets started to roll aroudn the cilinder that had been replenished. Aside from that, the smell of ink was potent, Neuman's nose wrinkled inmediately, but he tried not to cover his nose out of politeness, besides, he didn't to give Alice any material for her to tease him later (As he showed after a night filled with alcohol and radio music).
"You work for the newspaper...?" Vox would punch himself if he could. What kind of question was that?
"Of course" She nodded, placing another piece of paper somewhere else to let it dry without getting in the way. Neuman should've been thankful that Alice didn't feel offened by his question, maybe she was already used to it (Or she simply didn't care and, god, he hoped it was the latter). "Turns out it's easy to fill the paper rolls and to put the pages in order for a woman like me!" And luckily the boss didn't have any problem with keeping me after the Great War, if you know what I mean, everyone wins!
At least they didn't fire me for being a woman taking the job of a man, is what she meant. Neuman completely understood but decided not to say anything as this wasn't his fight. Instead, he smiled and got closer to Alice to help her with the big roll of press paper she was carrying. Pretty heavy, if you ask. It was unvelievable she could bear the weight considering the thin complexion of her body, looks deceive, it seems. She nooned in thanks before stretching her arms and letting the blood flow through them again, sighing tiredly.
"Well, seems it's just us two here now" Said Neuman, winking an eye to her. Alice laughed quietly to his joke (He admits, a bit flustered, maybe he wasn't the best at winking, come on, he did it in such an exagerated way, he was starting to go red).
"Thank God! You're the first coworker that I've gotten in a while, the last one quit and I had to do the work of 2 people because of him.
That was... realy, Neuman didn't know how to take it. Vox would've rolled his eyes, calling his idiot ex-boss a bitch because it was obvious what he was unsuccesfully trying: to give Alice all the heavy work hoping she would quit due to it being "Too much for a lady." Alastor laughed as he shrugged and let the stock laughter play from the little speaker on his radio cane because "Ha! You'd need more than that to make me give up! What a pity that poor man didn't know who he was dealing with". Back then, when he saw the woman in the middle of her busy work tasks, he only thought the newspaper was too busy and understaffed to allow Alice to take a break.
The way Alice managed to operate the giant rotary machine without getting oil or ink on herself was a mistery. But she managed it somehow, keeping as clean as one could, considering that walking back and forth with so many layers on couldn't be that comfortable. And with the hot and humid wheather one would expect in a city so close to the louisiana swamps, Neuman felt he was going to die. Alice definitely showed her many years in the business, seemingly unaffected from all the work. It was also worrying considering that the Great War started in 1914 and Alice was 24 (If his blurry vision from the Whiskey at that bar was correct), it said a lot about her need for money and sustenance if she had to work to get a couple dollars in her pockets and bread on the table.
Alastor would think young kids working in the industrial business wasn't as rare during the first World War. After all, men who were supposed to be the economic support of a "traditional" family in the 20th century were out becoming soldiers and cannon fodder while they left their housewives without knowing what to do It was obvious that with the lack of personall and the need of acquiring a workforce, children became part of the available options. So why would Alice reject that oportunity? The answer was that she couldn't, simple as that. Vox knew and so did Alastor.
Either way, that didn't stop Neuman from feeling glad when Alice seemed to be thankfull for the extra pair of hands after so long doing this alone. Aside from the sound of the giant machinery and the paper printing paper arranged in newspapers that would be sold the next day, there was a soft hazz song plaed by an old-looking radio in the corner of the room. Alice says it was a gift from her beloved mother, may she rest in peace, for her 20th birthday. You could tell it was old, it was a model that wasn't sold anymore, but it was so well taken care of one might have thought it was just acquired at the store. Alice hummed to the music, her body moving with the same grace as she loaded a roll of paper to continue loading up the printer, and removing the already printed sheets to dry them somewhere else. Neuman tried to follow as best as he could, helping her with cleaning the components when they had to stop printing due to how hot the air was getting inside, and with transporting the rolls and the organized diaries, and tying them in very prominent bundles.
To think that this all had to be ready for the next day made him have some respect for that woman. Neuman couldn't remember the simplicity of honest work, but he was starting to appreciate it as Alice instructed with the slightest details he had to keep in mind, like when a piece of paper got stuck or if the ink ran out and they had to refill it. They were an efficient team, they worked without getting in each other's way, and without the need for many words they were able to coordinate and to finish what seemed impossible at first.
The sun had already set when they both left the building, one of them dirtier than the other. Neuman had taken a hand-embroidered cloth from Alice to wipe the remains of ink that had fallen on his face while he was loading it. It had beautifully-rendered deer antlers, a strange decision considering it would be normal to see something more... feminine, but it's not like Alice wasn't an extravagant person since he had met her. It was nice to learn something new from her, much more now that she would be his work partner from that day.
"I think I'm going to die" A moan escaped him as they both walked through the streets "How have you been managing this for so long?"
"It's not so bad after a while" Alice answered. Her accent, for some reason, started having that creole accent he had already forgotten she had(Does she only use it at work? Weird) "Actually I would like to get a drink. Want to come with me? My treat.
"The same Bourbon bar?"
"I think the one in New Orleans is better, dear friend" She picked up her pace, seemingly excited to come back as soon as possible" Neuman could only sigh entertained while he tried to keep up "I have a friend there, Mimzy That's her stage name, but you understand Her musical numbers are the best, trust me."
Alice seemed to be able to talk nonstop for hours, something Neuman noticed since the night before Mardi Gras. Her tongue seemed to be her greatest quality, able to talk about anything and still sound entertaining for him, his spectator. He let himself be guided with just Alice's voice in the background, giving a comment every once in a while. It was fun, and deep inside he admits, he was starting to see the bright side in his shitty job. If he could spend just a moment with Alice like this, suddenly his arms stopped bothering him from all the weight he had carried.
("Awww" Alastor let out a little deer squeak as he humilliatingly patted Vox's head, you know, the same way you would a pet, "Even while alive you were so adorable dear. What would you do without me? Of course, it wouldn't be Alastor if he couldn't take that moment of weakness that Vox had decided to share with him so many years later to make fun of him. Right, he knew what he was getting into when he decided to open his mouth and spew out his feelings to the radio demon, but he couldn't help but feel embarassed anyways.)
He quickly learned that Alice would sometimes go out to drink after work, take just a couple of drinks without getting drunk, and enjoy the music and dancing. When they entered, the sound of the soft jazz flooded his ears. The barman greeted her like that last time and was quick to serve her her usual drink, as he said. Looking back, it felt like the first night when they met, just slightly different. Now they were sitting next to each other, Alice seemed calm next to him while she hummed along to the music, and the barman didn't seem as hostile with him. To be fair, he gets it: Even though Alice seemed to be able to fend for herself, she was still a woman. A woman alone at a bar drinking like nothing could happen to her (And according to her, nothing would happen).
Even the dancers at the bar needed some protection from the owners of the place. You never knew what could happen.
"You worry too much" Alice downplayed it, seeing the obvious worry towards her semingly overly confident routine "I've known how to take care of myself for years, there's nothign to fear."
Neuman couldn't do much to make her understand, he knew that when he heard the barman sigh tiredly, seemingly having already heard that answer a thousand times before. That was probably the case.
Alastor told Vox he would've wanted to hit him that time for having doubted him, given that Alastor was strong enough to take care of himself compared to others. He didn't know whether to take it as a compliment as it implied the deer demon was more tolerant towards Vox than what he seemed or as a warning not to doubt his ability again. To be fair, there was a difference between Alastor, radio demon and feared overlord in Hell; and Alice, the human working at the local New Orleans printing press that Neuman had just met. A person he desired to know more, enchanted by her charm, her face lit up by the dim yellow lights that accented her sharp face and her long lashes. And it seemed to be mutual, because Alice continued to insist in talking with Neuman, finding it fun, to have someone with which to spend the time.
Alastor would reveal years later that Neuman was a new source of entertainment, someone foreign who was just adapting to the southern customs which would later imply a key point in their relationship. But that was a different story. Alastor, Alice, decided that Vox was fun. And so what would have been just a single night at a random bar in Bourbon became many, almost a routine. Neuman and Alice enjoyed the pleasure of knowing each other without knowing what would happen in the years to come.