Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It should be noted that Vox has never actually been a fan of petty feuds.

But when one looks at his history, that becomes hard to believe. His entire life (and afterlife, at that) has been made up of petty feuds and disputes. Being a cult leader meant that would happen, and being an overlord in Hell only certified that guarantee. But Vox never actually cared for these disputes. He never truly got riled up enough to personally go out of his way to hate another party. All of the fighting merely brought attention to his causes and business, which, for him, was great!

But all of that was different for a certain someone. It wasn’t someone from before he died, no. It was someone from Hell. A certain radio demon that he had a prolonged relationship with. Whether that relationship was good or bad wasn’t really a debate – it was bad. Terrible. Awful. From their very first interaction to the most recent exchange, it was pure and utter hatred. Which was funny, somehow. You see, Vox never really let himself get this worked up over offending parties in the past. For something about the way the radio demon carried himself irked him.

An attempt at peace had been made, of course. It was a somewhat rough period of a tense “truce,” you could say. The Vee’s and the radio demon had attempted to work together to some extent. Most of it had been a ploy so Vox could stop having weekly disputes with someone he, quite frankly, viewed as inferior to himself. But there was only so much that could be done. Whatever had happened during that period of time didn’t matter and, in the end, the demon had refused to join them. He gave no real comment, simply alluding to the fact that because his name did not start with the same letter, he could not join.

Obviously that wasn’t the issue, which irked Vox even more. So the feuds continued until the demon vanished. Seven whole years without so much as a spotting, which was admittedly strange. Vox had cameras all over. It wouldn’t be easy to avoid being seen, even if cameras had a hard time picking up his form. But no matter how much scouring and searching those lens’ did, there was not a single spotting of him. So for seven years, Vox lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

Business continued, and nothing changed. Well, somewhat.

There was always Valentino and Velvette there. While his relationship with the fashionista was generally positive, he couldn’t necessarily say the same for the moth. That was a different thing entirely. On and off, good and bad. Highs and lows. Vox never dwelled on it for too long. He had a terrible tendency to delete bad memories and store them in the trash. It was one of the positives of being a demon that revolved around technology. But being a demon that revolved around technology also meant the downside of being fragile.

Vox could hold his own in fights, and that was a fact. There was no mistake in saying that he was a powerful overlord. But being damaged in even the slightest could result in a multitude of internal issues. His drives, cords, and more were always at risk. And then there was his screen and replacing it if it ever cracked or shattered. It was expensive and annoying. It was a waste of profits when he, quite frankly, shouldn’t have been damaged in the first place. But it still happened. And he deleted those memories all the same.

They were never truly trashed, of course. Somewhere in the hard drive, everything remained there. Stowed away. It was just never at the forefront, and he had to go through a great deal of effort to actually look through those memories. But why would he do that? He had deleted them for a reason, and that reason was to avoid looking at them. To avoid being reminded of anything bad. Of course, this resulted in some (frankly) silly conversations. His lapses in memory made some conversations difficult, and he could always tell when he had missed something. He never looked into what he had missed, though.

But that wasn’t the point.

His relationship with Valentino was bumpy. It flashed between affection and something else. Whatever it was had been deleted, but there was only so much that could be hidden. Anything physical was still there. It just missed the context. He never bothered to ask or pester. He would simply pull his suit on, adjust the cuffs of his clothing, and put on that pointed smile as he went to broadcast. The hollow aching through his body went ignored, and the knowing looks from Valentino were brushed over.

And then he returned.

The radio demon was back, and he was helping Lucifer’s daughter with her tacky hotel. Part of him simply wanted to try and film it for the profits, but part of him merely wanted to watch from the sidelines to see what happened. It was a surprise to see the fight that ensued at the hotel, and he distinctly remembered sneering at what was broadcasted. The night followed with a celebration. Tangled limbs, hushed snarls, and static. He remembered that much from what his memory bank retained. But after that, there was a puff of red smoke and then nothing.

And he woke up.

The aching in his body wasn’t ignorable this time. It was a different kind of ache. It was a throbbing, pulsing pain. A stinging, sharp pain. He grimaced, fingers curling as his body contracted and stiffened. A hollow, drawn out groan pushed its way out of him as he forced himself upright and opened his eyes. Two things immediately sparked his attention. The first one was the fact that his vision was distorted and glitching. That meant a cracked screen, and possible damaged sensors that would cost money to get fixed. Fucking fantastic.

But the second, and possibly even more confusing thing he noticed was that he wasn’t inside. He wasn’t in his bed or Valentino’s bed. He wasn’t anywhere in the tower as far as he could tell. No. He was in what he could only assume to be a dumpster, seeing as he was laying on top of black trash bags filled with who knows what. A disgruntled sound left him as he pushed himself upright even more, haphazardly managing to launch himself over the edge of the trash can and onto the ground below.

An angry spark of pain lanced through his ankles and knees as he did so, and he barely managed to bite back the pained shout that left him. He stumbled, knees bending slightly as he hunched over with ragged, crackling breaths. Something had happened, and clearly, it hadn’t been good. The memory was nowhere to be seen. He could try and look into it, but he was more interested in calling Valentino or Velvette to come get him. But upon opening his contacts, he found that they were nowhere to be found. Vox scowled, slowly forcing himself to stand upright more as he blinked sluggishly. A system diagnostics check was needed, then.

He let out a huff, quietly working through his internal systems and coding. He could hear the fans in his head clicking as they heaved air. He was overheating and he wasn’t even doing that much. How badly had he been damaged?

System Safe Mode enabled.

Vox blinked, wincing at the throbbing pain throughout his body. Safe mode was something he usually enabled himself, but he supposed it could have activated on its own. He didn’t see the need for it. It was for diagnostic and troubleshooting, which he had already attempted to run. And it was typically for malware and crashing issues, which he didn’t seem to be having (as of the moment). Maybe that was why he couldn’t find Valentino and Velvette in his contacts? Whatever the reason, he could simply turn it off.

Config…

Enter.

As suspected, safe boot was enabled. He grumbled an incoherent string of curses under his breath as he went to uncheck the box.

Apply.

Ok.

Now all he needed to do was restart. Admittedly, doing this out in the open was not a good idea. It would leave him vulnerable. But he hadn’t been attacked thus far, and he was stranded as it was. So Vox slumped onto the ground with his back pressed against the dumpster, quietly preparing for the world around him to disappear.

The device restarted unexpectedly or encountered an unexpected error.

That wasn’t good.

Vox let out a quiet growl as he attempted the process again, only to be met with the same message. Did safe mode need to be disabled in another way? No, that didn’t make sense. If there was an error with that system, it would have popped up when he applied the change. But still, there was no harm in attempting to do so in another way.

Command prompt (admin)

/deletevalue {current} safeboot

Another huff, followed by another error message.

The device restarted unexpectedly or encountered an unexpected error.

He was starting to feel annoyed. Maybe a bit worried, but more so annoyed. Something was clearly wrong, and he wasn’t able to do anything because he was in safe mode. Not only that, but now his abilities would be limited. There was no jumping through powerlines or through any sort of system to get back to the tower. He’d have to make his way back and hopefully fend off any lowlifes who attempted to attack him. Easier said than done.

Vox groaned, pressing his palm onto his knee as he forced himself to stand up. As he did so, a pop up appeared. It was a note that he had written. It was likely a reminder about a meeting he had scheduled, so he opened it. It would be unfortunate to miss a meeting with another overlord if that was what it was about. But it would also be bad to miss any meeting in general, seeing as how public image was especially important. Of course, there was only so much damage his public image could take before he wiped it away with a new device for the public. Not only that, but–

Don’t go back to the tower.

He blinked a few times. He reread the message a few times. And then he let out an uneasy, strained laugh. That wasn’t normal. Nor was it very descriptive. It was vague and gave him nothing to work with, but it was very clearly written by him. No one could just enter notes into his system like this. Still, it was baffling. He couldn’t help but scowl at this as he coughed, ignoring as a few shards from his screen fell off onto the ground. Don’t go back to the tower. For some reason, that left a pit in his stomach. But he brushed it off, shaking his head as he exhaled a haggard and uneasy breath. He needed to go somewhere until he could figure out what was happening with his systems. That was also easier said than done, seeing as anyone with half a brain in Hell would jump at the opportunity to kill him.

Everyone but… one unfortunate option. He exhaled another shaky laugh, shaking his head as he mumbled out a quiet “you have g-gggggot to be kiddddding meee-e.” He winced at the sound of his voice, reaching up to cup his throat with a quiet hum. Even more damage to deal with later. Fantastic. More expenses and more profit down the drain because of something he couldn’t even remember. He shook his head once more, pushing away from the dumpster as he limped towards the street that the alleyway was connected to.

Admittedly, it was a good thing that his district was so close to that tacky hotel. Even if the city was big, he was close enough to the hotel to see the eye stain poking out. He cast a few uneasy glances around. The streets would always have someone walking around, but he just had to hope as few people saw him as possible. He clenched his teeth and shook his head before shooting forward, half limping and half sprinting across the street into another alleyway.

Maybe he could bypass the safe mode to access the memories? He let out another huff as he awkwardly hauled himself forward, squinting his eyes as he focused on the process.

ERROR_SECTOR_NOT_FOUND

That was a no.

He grimaced at another sharp twinge of pain, and that was when he finally took the time to look down at himself. He could clearly see his ankle was swollen, which meant it was likely twisted or sprained. Annoying, but manageable. On top of that, a majority of his clothing had rips throughout it, revealing an ugly red welling at cuts. He was sure his face and screen likely looked worse, and there was the possibility that beneath his clothes had even more, but he couldn’t see that.

His fans clicked once again. Overheating was likely inevitable at this point, which meant getting to the hotel was a bit more important than it originally was.

He grimaced once again as more shards fell away from his screen. His vision flicked before the static filled half cut out, leaving half of his sight in darkness. Luckily for him, the hotel wasn’t too far away, and before he knew it, he was sauntering towards the front doors. Admittedly, he probably should have considered how to go about this before arriving. But at the moment, he was more focused on getting to some place safe… at least he hoped this place would be safe. A small part of him considered taking the risk of returning to the tower, but he was already here. What was the worst that could happen? So he raised a shaking hand (shaking wasn’t good, was it?) to the doors before rapping his knuckles gently against the wood.

There was no immediate answer, and Vox was starting to realize that he probably should have just walked in. Most hotels worked in that way, but he was so used to simply having the door opened for him. He exhaled a huff, wrapping an arm around his chest as he began to reach for the handle before, suddenly, the door swung open.

And he was standing face to face with Charlie.

He felt his antennas suddenly straighten as static danced between them, buzzing in the air. He blinked once, leaving his hand to hover midair as he stared owlishly at the princess. She stared back at him. It was clear she wasn’t expecting him of all people, but he was who had shown up. The excited expression on her face twisted and morphed. Some hints of shock and concern showed, and then a suspicious squint followed shortly after.

“...Vox! What are… you doing here?” She smiled nervously, her eyes darting around nervously. It was clear she was looking around for other people.

He let out a glitched laugh, straightening up as a toothy grin formed on his face. “Charlie M-Morningstar! It is a ppppleasure to m–make your acquaintance!” He slipped into his faux persona immediately (mostly out of habit) as he looked down at her. a moment of silence lapsed over the two, and another shard fell away from his screen onto the ground. Charlie’s eyes briefly glanced down at the piece before seeming to scan over the injured overlord. “...Uh.. Are you okay?” Clearly not. Nonetheless, Vox merely laughed (even though it sent painful shocks through his ribs).

“N-N-Never better!” The glitch in his speech was beginning to become annoying. He hadn’t noticed it before since he hadn’t been speaking, but now that he was having a conversation, it was becoming increasingly apparent. Charlie was unconvinced, though he wasn’t necessarily trying to convince her. “You’re… missing half your face? And bleeding. All over.” She noted, pointing at his screen before his body. Vox offered a curt nod as his fans clicked, continuing to chug air.

“Are… you supposed to sound like that?”

“No.” Vox deadpanned, the smile dropping from his face. “N-Not at a-all.” How did he even ask this? There was no “not awkward” way to go forward.

“Charlie? Who’s at the door?”

Another voice came from inside. If he was remembering correctly, that was Charlie’s partner. Vaggie? An odd name, but he’d try to avoid angering anyone for the moment. Charlie pulled away for a moment, responding to the voice with a nervous laugh and muffled sentence. There was a brief pause before the sound of hurried footsteps came, and then the door was pried open. Before he could react, a spear was shoved towards his face, and he reeled backwards with a strained wince.

“What are you doing here?” Vaggie demanded, narrowing her one eye at him. Though, she quickly faltered, the spear lowering in the slightest. “...what the hell happened to you?”

“Isn’t that the mmmmillion dollar q-question…” Vox heaved a sigh, shaking his head as Vaggie grimaced at the sound of his voice. However, the momentary lapse in guard was quickly forgotten, and the spear was raised once again. “Whatever you want with us, you can go ahead and forget about it! We have no interest in you or your deals!” Vaggie snarled, narrowing her eye in a challenging glare.

Vox took an uneasy step back as his fans clicked once more. The sound of them whirring was louder than it had been. His vision was beginning to flicker, and he could feel strings of electricity dancing over his body. He let out an uneasy, airy laugh. Rip it off like a bandaid. “I s-sorta need a p-place toooooooo crash!”

Two head tilts. “Like.. restart?”

Ah. He could have chosen better wording. Vox offered a strained smile once again, puffing out his head as he opened his mouth to speak–

ERROR_BAD_PATHNAME

All that came out was the strained sound of a gargled, choked word. He jolted, vision flickering as his screen was overcome with error messages. The buzzing from the static suddenly became overwhelming, and he was suddenly aware of just how bad this was.

ERROR_SIGNAL_REFUSED

Somewhere distantly, he was aware of his body hitting the ground with a painful sting. He could feel electricity coursing through his body, though not in a painful way. No. His systems were overloaded and overheating, and his body was trying to find a way to get rid of the excess. But with how this was going, he was going to fry a circuit, and–

SHTDN_REASON_MAJOR_HARDWARE

And everything was gone.

There is a distinct feeling for whenever Vox wakes up after a restart.

This is not that feeling.

Boot up sequence initiated…

A few distinct clicks sound, followed by the sound of the fans in his head spurring to life. This is different from a restart in almost every way. Oddly enough, he finds himself unable to see, which is an issue in itself. But not being able to see means he doesn’t know where he is, or if where he is is safe or not. There’s more to it than that, but it comes down to those two important factors at the end of the day. And then there’s the fact of not quite being able to feel his body. Not in the sense that there is no sensation at all, but more so in the idea that everything is warm and heavy.

One might typically find that sensation to be of comfort, but not Vox. Not right now. Whenever he wakes up from a restart, everything is cold and sharp. He is aware. He is awake. He can see, he can feel, and he knows what is going on. Right now, there is a distinct lack of all of the above. And that fact alone is making him charge up a powerful blast. The next time he hears something or someone, no matter who it may be, he’ll send a powerful zap in their direction. Maybe next time, that’ll keep–

Boot up sequence complete.

All at once, his vision returns to him. A powerful barrage of color and sensations hits him all at once, and he immediately recoils and squints his eyes shut. In the short glimpse he got, he makes note of two things; one, the entirety of his vision has been returned to him, and two, his vision is pixelated and fuzzy. He can both see and not see. But then, another fact becomes noticeable. There is a very, very noticeable lack of sound all of the sudden. The fans he had heard just a moment ago were no longer audible, though he could still feel them chugging away.

So his eyes snapped open and he lurched upright, ignoring the biting pain that coursed through his body. Wherever he was, it wasn’t fancy by any means. There was a certain smell in the air that was familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It was just one of those scents that you recognize, yet don’t fully know. But there is one thing he recognizes. Well, more of something. Or rather, someone. Looming in the corner of the room, it’s hard to miss the distinct silhouette of a certain radio demon. That same everlasting smile is still plastered over his face, though his expression is otherwise indifferent. Vox feels himself bristle.

“-should fix it!” And suddenly, the sound is back with a click. Vox can’t help but flinch at the sudden noise, though the movement brings another bout of pain lancing through his body. His head swivels around to look at who the voice came from, and he’s less surprised to see Charlie hovering behind him with what looks to be… an egg? The snake had those. It’s a quiet, far away note he makes. It’s something he’ll forget. But for now, he’s curious as to why such a creature is here. Though, he can dwell later. Charlie is already speaking to him once again, a concerned and nervous smile etched into her face. “Are you feeling better?”

Vox opens his mouth to respond, and then stops. He hums quietly, blinking a few times before looking down at himself. His clothes have been changed (the thought brings a small amount of heat to his face, and he hears his fans click up one notch), and he can feel bandages wrapped around his body in certain areas. A small piece of him is upset for how the exchange played out, but another part of him is only now remembering why he is waking up here in the first place. He must take too long to respond, because Charlie claps her hands and lets out a nervous laugh. “I’ll just… take that as a yes! Uh… Vox! You… uh… what happened?” She seems to give up on “formality” towards the end of her sentence, shoulders sagging as her smile falls.

Vox blinks once more, casting a weary look towards the demon in the corner before looking back to Charlie. Despite the pixels that have overtaken her features, he can see clear as day that she offers genuine concern. It’s a laughable concept, but it intrigues him all the same. If he was being honest, he’d originally thought that Charlie’s personality was like his television personality. A false identity put on to tide through any public events. And while it was still possible that she could be doing that, he highly doubted that thought. She didn’t seem clever enough.

Still, he lets out a laugh (a noise that still carries a bit of grain with it) and shakes his head. “Would you be surprised if I told you I didn’t know?” It sounds bad, now that he thinks about it. Most “bad guys” (though he wouldn’t necessarily call himself a bad guy) tend to play coy and pretend. The demon in the corner must think the same, as a staticky voice crackles to life. “Likely a poor attempt to spy on us.” And while Vox can’t blame one for thinking in such a way, he still bristles at the other. He raises a hand, pointing a clawed finger at the radio demon with a snarl. “Oh, you’d want it to be that, wouldn’t you? So you can fight me, huh, Alastor?”

Alastor’s smile remains unwavering. “I needn’t waste my time.”

Vox lets out a huff, shoulders heaving up and down before he spins his head back over to look at Charlie. “Princess,” He begins, ignoring the sour taste the word leaves on his tongue. “While I would love to take this opportunity to mess with you.. Tacky hotel…” He watches her frown at that, but continues, “I came here for… ah… safety?” He ends on an uneasy note, shrugging his shoulders dismissively. Charlie blinks at him. “Safety?” She parrots, as if testing out the word. Vox heaves a sigh, tapping his now fixed (he assumes) screen. “Can’t remember, and even if I could, my system is on safe mode.” At the confused expression she gives him, he heaves a sigh. “It’s like putting baby protection all over a house.” He grumbles.

Alastor shifts in the corner, and Vox swears the smile on Alastor’s face widens ever so slightly.

Charlie nods in understanding, though her eyes betray the lack of understanding. Nonetheless, the effort is appreciated. “So you came here? Of all places?” She asks, and Vox hesitates a moment. This is feeling like an interrogation, though a much nicer one. Eventually, he offers a nod. “Your little hotel is all about… redemption and that kinda junk right?” He mocks, waving his hands in a jazz hands motion before letting them fall back onto his lap. Charlie frowns further, seeming disheartened. “So you aren’t here for redemption?”

“Pfft– what? Fuck no.” Vox can’t help but laugh at that, and the dull ache in his ribs is less sharp. “The chances of me coming here and getting killed were… marginally less than going elsewhere.” He ends on an uneasy smile, casting his gaze back over towards Alastor for a moment. The demon still hasn’t moved, and it is starting to unnerve Vox. Charlie starts speaking again, and he looks back towards the princess. “What about your tower?” Ah. He didn’t explain that part, did he? But before he can speak, Alastor takes a step forward, eyes half-lidded. “Perhaps his partners became fed up with his childish aptitude!” He chirps, and a faint laugh track follows his voice. Vox bristles more, and he can feel static dancing in the air around him.

Charlie, seemingly noticing this, lets out a very loud, incredibly forced laugh. “Haha! Oh, well, wow, would you look at that! Alastor, I think you.. Forgot to clean the room keys! Oh boy, you better get going!” It’s a terrible attempt at an excuse, but Alastor, surprisingly, plays along. He hums in response, blinking slowly before staring at Vox for a few moments. Then, without another word, he melts into the shadows and disappears. That leaves the princess, the overlord… and the egg. What a trio.

“So…” Charlie begins. “Why didn’t you just go to your tower?” She presses.

Vox lets himself relax in the slightest now that there is one less person in the room. However, the answer he provides is less than satisfactory. “Not… entirely sure. I woke up with some damaged parts and found a note left in my system!” He laughs again. It’s another forced sound, but the princess doesn’t catch on. “It told me not to go back to the tower… and hell! Who am I to not listen to myself?” Another grin paints itself onto his face as he waits for a response from the princess.

Surprisingly, she seems to wait a few moments. And then, with a hint of hesitance, Charlie begins to speak. “Well… If it isn’t safe for you to return to your tower, I don’t want to send you back there.” And while he doesn’t say anything, Vox shifts at the sentence. He hadn’t really looked much into the note. Was the tower really not safe to return to? He doesn’t dwell on it for long. “So… I guess… you could stay here if you would like?” She finishes, tilting her head.

Vox decides not to answer her question. Instead, he points at the egg. “So what is he doing here?”

“Oh! He was one of Sir Pentious’ egg boys! We… figured he might know a little about fixing stuff since Sir Pentious was an inventor! And he helped patch you up! …sort of.” Charlie grimaces at the last comment. Vox doesn’t push that, though he still has questions. “And… Why did you fix me up?” It seems a bit silly to ask. What else was he expecting from Charlie Morningstar? The princess of hell who believed in redemption? Still, Charlie seems to ponder the thought for a moment before sighing.

“Well… I was kind of hoping you were here for redemption…”

“I’m not.”

“Right. Yeah.”

Another moment of silence. Charlie decides to break it.

“And… Alastor kind of told us we should fix you up?”

It sounds more like a question than an answer. That makes Vox feel uneasy. Why would Alastor want them to do that? Did they want to do that? As if reading his thoughts, Charlie suddenly speaks again, almost frantically. “I was gonna help you anyways! But… he uh… kind of spurred us into action.” She explains, rubbing her arm with a faint smile. Vox stares at her for a few moments before heaving a long, drawn out sigh. He can’t believe this…

“I’m not here for your redemption bullshit… but until I get.. Whatever the hell happened to me figured out..” Vox hesitates, trailing off before deciding to bite the bullet. “I’ll stay at your little hotel.”

Almost immediately, he regrets it. He watches as, in a matter of seconds, her eyes light up and she lurches forward to pull him into a hug. “Yay!” Thankfully, the hug only lasts a second or two, though it still leaves Vox bristling with static energy. “We have so much fun stuff here for you to do! We have trust exercises and therapy and–”

Vox holds up a hand. “Mandatory?”

“Well, no, but–”

“Then I won’t be participating.”

Charlie opens her mouth to argue with him, but seems to decide better of it. Instead, she just nods her head slowly. “Well… this can be your room for the time being and… welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

Chapter Text

Vox spends the entirety of the first night at the hotel fixing his graphics card.

It’s a simple task in itself, but with being in safe mode, it has become infinitely harder. He has to pause other tasks just to fix the graphics, which allows him to finally see outside of pixels and dull colors. The issue of being in safe mode is another issue entirely. Being limited to small tasks and lesser abilities will have its toll, and seeing as how he is struggling to fix the issue at hand, he’s stuck where he is for the time being. He’s surprised the system shut down didn’t resolve it, but things are never that easy. He’s sure he’ll have to go see a specialist for it.

But for now, he’s stuck here. By choice, of course, but stuck all the same. Well after light starts to shine through the window of his newly assigned room, Vox still finds himself laying on the bed. Charlie and the “egg boy” had both left shortly after. She’d left him with a room key, a quick spur of where to find a pamphlet, and an eager thumbs up that he did not return. No one had entered the room or knocked since then, and he was partially thankful for that. Vox liked to think of himself as a people person, but it was different when it was people who already didn’t like him. To say the least, he wasn’t excited to socialize.

Honestly, he was surprised that Charlie hadn’t come knocking and demanding for him to make friends. Maybe the princess was busy with other work? It wouldn’t be shocking, seeing how things with heaven had just escalated.

…huh. Speaking of, hadn’t Alastor been injured in that fight? He was almost certain that was what had happened. With a scowl, he quietly skimmed through the memory files he had access to before playing through one.

Tendrils were rising up from behind Alastor, launching at the rapidly approaching angel. It almost seemed like a game to the holy being, who swung through the demonic appendages with ease with his guitar. Alastor let out a mocking laugh, quietly wagging his finger back and forth as Adam rose up in the air with the guitar overhead. “Ah, ah, ah…” A blur of movement followed the taunting tone, and where Adam had swung down, nothing remained.

Alastor, who had stepped to the side, sent forth another onslaught of tendrils. Green strands of energy danced across the lithe forms as they batted at Adam, who effortlessly destroyed them. Alastor’s taunting laugh continued in the back as Adam sneered at him. “You really think you can take me on? A mortal soul is no match for me, edgelord.”

Alastor looked at his staff, the same mocking smile still etched onto his face. “You should know better than anyone what a soul can accomplish when they take charge of their own fate.” A screeching sound filled the background as Alastor’s shadow stretched out from beneath him, lunging towards Adam. It was merely a distraction, however, from the tiny imp-like being that Alastor had summoned.

”You think you’re tough shit, huh?!” Adam snarled as he swung, to which Alastor gladly answered. “Tougher than you!” Another laugh as he ducked away from yet another swing of Adam’s guitar. An onslaught followed, to which Alastor smoothly evaded all whilst talking. “You lack discipline. Control. And worse, you’re sloppy.” The end of the sentence grew distorted as antlers sprouted from his head as more minions were summoned. Adam pointed his guitar at the other, glaring daggers at the demon. “And you’re–” He broke off as the imp-like creatures began to swarm him, awkwardly dodging backwards. “F-Fuck– Fuck you, you red piece of fuck– too much fuckin’ red– fuck– shut up!”

Just as Adam fended off the last demon, Alastor finally managed to wrap a tendril around Adam. No time was wasted in throwing the angel into the sign atop the hotel’s roof. “Poetry!” Alastor taunted, staring challengingly at Adam as he rose away from the sign. “I’m gonna wipe that shit eating grin off your face! Cause radio is fucking dead!” As he spoke, his guitar seemed to become enlarged. A blade extended from the end and he swung, leaving an arch-like trail to chase through the air towards Alastor. The radio demon raised his staff to defend himself, and a burst of light followed.

When it cleared, Alastor looked oddly surprised. “What just happened?” The filter to his voice faltered for just a moment as his eyes darted around before landing on his staff, which had been cut in two. “Fuck.” There was no warning this time. Adam landed down in front of the radio demon, swung, and blood sprayed. A pained cry came from Alastor as he was launched backwards into concrete before landing ungracefully on the floor.

As the radio demon struggled to push himself upright, his smile grew strained. “Have you disagree with you there!” He almost sang the words where he spoke, still clutching the broken pieces of his staff. “Radio is not dead, but it is ending this broadcast.”

He blinked his eyes as the file stopped playing, scowling as he looked toward the corner where Alastor had loomed. Surely the radio demon would not have recovered so fast from an injury of the sort. Not only was there that confusion, but there was still the thought that lingered in the back of his mind. Charlie had mentioned Alastor urging them to help him. Why would his rival have said such a thing? Unless, maybe it was just Charlie attempting to get on his good side. But would she really do that? It didn’t seem in her nature. Nor did she necessarily seem clever enough to have thought of such an idea. Not on her own, at the very least. With that thought, maybe Alastor could have told her to lie.

Vox shook his head again with another scowl and heaved a sigh as he looked toward the door. He was starting to get hungry, and he had a sneaking suspicion that a few of the hotel staff would begin to grow wary of his absence. He twisted his body, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed before carefully pushing himself upright. He had been given basic medical care, but he doubted any possibly serious injuries had been taken care of. He could still feel a twinge of pain in his ankle with each step, which left him with an awkward limp.

Then there was the ache in his ribs with every breath he drew in and let out. There was probably some damage done there, but he doubted it was anything as serious as a fracture or beyond. At worst, maybe bruised. All the cuts and gashes he had seen had been bandaged, and anything else he hadn’t seen had likely been taken care of. He even had a pair of new clothes on. And while they weren’t ripped and slashed, Vox almost preferred the ruined pair over this. He could only assume Charlie had picked this out, because it was a suit… with a shark pattern printed all over it. Humiliating.

But he didn’t have any other options, so he decided to cut his losses and bite the bullet once more. His claws hand wrapped around the door handle and he quietly pulled it open before limping out into the hallway. It was vacant (he didn’t know why he expected to see anyone) and… oddly eerie. He shook the thought away as he looked left and right before deciding to head left. Inevitably, it turned out to be the right option, as he eventually found his way to the lobby.

He could tell that his room was on the second floor, now. It wasn’t terribly far from the lobby, either, which he was somewhat thankful for. It meant less walking, and right now, less walking sounded great. He pushed forward, slowly approaching the stairs before awkwardly making his way down. He recognized a few of the faces. Towards a set of couches, Charlie and Vaggie were chatting away. On the opposite side, a bar was set up with Angel Dust and… a cat with wings. He drew a blank on the name, but that wasn’t important for the moment.

He wasn’t expecting a fuss when he finally made his appearance. That was up until when Angel Dust laid eyes on him, of course. The spider demon immediately began to bristle, and he let out an accusing shout from across the lobby. “Hey! What’re you doing here?!” He snarled out, standing up from the bar stool he had been lounging on. Charlie and Vaggie looked up at the sound, and the princess hurriedly rushed over to get between the overlord and sinner. “He’s a guest! He’s staying here with us as a guest!” She quickly explained, waving her hands in front of her chest as Angel Dust stopped.

“Him? A guest?” The spider demon looked past the princess towards Vox before back at Charlie. “Him?” He echoed, as if that would change anything. Charlie nodded excitedly, clasping her hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth of her heels. “Yep! And… while he is here… he is to be treated as such! As a guest!” She nodded firmly at the end, to which Angel Dust gaped. “You can’t be serious?” At the dismay in his tone, Vox felt a grin form on his face. He fixed Angel Dust with a mocking smile, straightening his posture despite the biting pain in his ribs.

“As long as he does not step out of line, that is.”

Vox and Charlie both startled at the sudden voice from behind. The television demon whirled around, almost stumbling backwards into Charlie upon seeing Alastor looming on the steps above. The radio demon was still wearing the same exact smile he always wore, though Vox swore he saw a hint of genuine amusement there. He scowled up at the other, and Charlie quickly filled the gap. “U-unless he– yes. That is correct. Unless he steps out of line.” She nodded firmly, placing her hands on her hips with a satisfied look.

Angel Dust looked her up and down, seemingly disappointed with the final decision, before he turned to sulk back over to the bar. A less than stellar first interaction with the hotel staff, but hopefully it would be one of the last.

Vox continued to scowl up at Alastor, who simply smiled back down at him. There was not even a hint of anything in his eyes. Nothing more than disinterest. Eventually, the radio demon turned away and walked down past the two, making his way towards the doors of the hotel. No one bothered to question him, and he quietly left the building. Another moment of silence lapsed over the lobby before Charlie turned to look at Vox, the same nervous smile from yesterday plastered on her face. “So how are you feeling?” She chirped, almost giddy.

Vox looked at her, static still buzzing from his antennas. “...Sore.” He offered. He wasn’t terribly interested in talking about this with her of all people, or anyone for that matter. But he assumed that he was expected to give a response, so he uttered that one word. It seemed to satisfy Charlie, as she nodded vigorously. “Well, we can get you some medicine if you’d like, and then–” He held up a hand, stopping her before she could delve into another rant. His own smile returned to his face as he slung an arm over her shoulder, gesturing around with his clawed hand.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie… I’m gettin’ the impression that you’re treating me like some sort of special guest!” As long as he wasn’t causing any harm, he could have some fun. “Seems a bit unfair to your other guests, no?” He hummed, tilting his head.

Charlie blinked at him a few times before laughing a little. “Well, we don’t have any other guests, so…” She trailed off, seeming unsure of how to go from there. Vox grinned at that, pulling away with a pleased hum. He’d leave it at that as he made his way over to one of the vacant couches. It was only when he sat down that he noticed the weird look Vaggie had been giving him. Upon raising an electronic eyebrow at that, she gestured vaguely to him. “What’s with the suit?” It was a simple question, but it still caused energy to spark between his antennas.

“I believe you have the princess to thank for that.” Vox growled out, casting a scowl towards Charlie as she made her way over to join them. She crossed her arms over her chest, returning the scowl with not as much heat. “Your old suit was a mess! Until Nifty fixes it, we have this! Alastor said he made it himself!” Ah. That made more sense. His fans clicked up a notch or two before back down, leaving him to exhale an agitated sigh.

Vaggie spoke up once again. “So… care to explain what happened?” And Vox couldn’t help but scowl even more at Charlie. Had she not filled in any of the staff as to what was going on? Nonetheless, he heaved out another sigh and waved his hand dismissively as he spoke. “I woke up trashed in a dumpster annnnnd… came here!” He smiled enthusiastically at her, though he didn’t actually feel that way. The expression quickly fell, replaced by the unamused frown portraying how he really felt. Vaggie scoffed, narrowing her eye at him. “And we’re supposed to believe that?”

Vox shrugged.

Charlie pinched the bridge of her noise, uttering some incoherent string of curses. Vox merely grinned at that, the wide smile spreading across the entirety of the bottom half of his screen. He wasn’t being annoying on purpose (not entirely), and it was still annoying these people. Entertainment at its finest. But another voice broke through the silence once again, coming from across the lobby at the bar. Angel Dust. “Why doesn’t he just go back to the tower again?” Another well aimed scowl was directed toward Charlie, who finally decided she had enough of it.

She stood up and clapped her hands, forcing another smile onto her face. “Vox is here because he can’t go back to the tower! We don’t know why and neither does he! Until he does, he is our guest! Yay!” If he didn’t have half a brain, he might’ve said she almost sounded manic. The bartender seemed unconvinced, however, and he decided to voice that mistrust in a husky voice. “Ain’t you scared of him trying to destroy the hotel? He isn’t exactly someone we can trust.” A pointed claw was aimed in Vox’s direction, to which he offered another amused grin.

Charlie shook her head. “No need to worry, Husk! Any attempts at spying or destruction will be dealt with! Thoroughly!” No elaboration followed, and Vox was surprised none of the staff pressed for more. Most of their expression seemed to shift into a knowing, exasperated look, which gave him the idea that this sort of attitude was a lot more common than it seemed. How thrilling. The media demon grimaced as a conversation slowly began to start, though he tuned it out. He was busy attempting to sort through files once more. There had to be some way to bypass safe mode without restarting.

Error: You may not have the appropriate permission to access the item

Shocker. Vox scowled, quietly sifting through other operating systems. He understood what safe mode did, but he never really enabled it. Now that he was experiencing it, he didn’t think he would ever enable it again. It was for diagnostic problems and removing malware, which he was sure there was none of… well, at least no malware problems. The disabling and restriction of certain functions was proving to be quite the hassle, however. But safe mode shouldn’t restrict his ability to restart, which he was still stumped on.

0xc000021a

Oh–

Everything shut off.

It was very sudden, and he didn’t even notice nor feel it. There was a sudden click, and then everything snapped to black. Any sensations were gone, and he was in an empty void. But just as soon as it had all vanished, everything came spiraling back. His vision flicked back on and his audio came whirring back to life. He could hear his fans spinning overtime, and he could feel someone shaking his shoulder. But it was all far away and buzzy. There was a layer of static over everything. He knew that error code meant something, but he couldn’t quite remember what. Clearly, it wasn’t anything good. His head was spinning, and he couldn’t hear anything over the crackle of static.

And just like that, everything sharpened. The pixels overtaking his vision cleared and noise slowly pushed past the grain of static. He blinked a few more times, squinting as his vision slowly adjusted. He was still in the lobby, and it seemed as though no one had moved. Then the hand on his shoulder… He craned his head to look over, but found nothing was there. That earned another scowl from him, though he brushed it off. It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed. Charming. He huffed out a growl, quietly opening a command prompt.

bootrec /fixmbr

bootrec /fixboot

bootrex /rebuildbcd

His fans clicked once more. Nothing happened. He repeated the process once again, and yet, nothing seemed to change. There was no follow up message, and restarting still didn’t work. As annoying as it was, Vox was beginning to realize he really needed to see a specialist for this. But in his current state, that was practically a death wish. Any random person would jump at an opportunity to kill an injured overlord. All of his chances of getting help were all probably from those same people. How wonderful.

Seeing as how most of his options had been exhausted, Vox decided to tune back into whatever conversation Charlie and Vaggie were having. He was only catching the end of it, but it seemed to be involving something about trust practices. He couldn’t help but scoff at that, shaking his head as he leaned back into the couch. It was becoming increasingly apparent that this hotel was rather… boring. There really wasn’t much to do aside from pestering some of the staff, and the chances of getting booted for that were fairly high.

He folded one leg overtop the other, staring tiredly between the princess and her partner. The two stared at each other in such a charming and somewhat endearing way. It was somewhat odd seeing such a relationship in hell of all places. Most interactions he saw were typically abusive in one way or another. There were plenty of other horrible examples he could think of for how most relationships typically went, but this was a different one. It was somewhat refreshing, though it left an odd pit in his stomach.

Another click. Static hummed between his antennas as he observed in silence, eyes half-lidded on his virtual screen. A small part of him wanted to nag and ask if there was anything to do, but he knew that risked getting pulled into something he didn’t want to do. He opted to suffer in silence.

And suffer he did.

He wasn’t sure how many hours had passed. He had been half paying attention to Charlie and Vaggie and half trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with his systems. He was cutting edge technology. It didn’t make sense for him to be having this many issues without being able to at least solve some of it himself. But still, he was still where he was, and there was seemingly nothing that could be done about it. He managed to pick up on some interesting gossip (such as the fact that apparently the hotel had a bug problem), but there was really nothing else satisfying about the few hours he was sitting there.

He was sure his system was just about to enter sleep mode when the doors to the hotel opened, and Alastor walked back in. Vox felt a spark of energy dance between his clawed finger-tips as the radio demon began to make his way over towards the small lounge area. Despite himself, Vox found that he was tensing up. He shifted backwards where he was sitting, pressing back into the cushions as he glared daggers over at the radio demon. He was holding something draped over his forearm. What was that?

“Do dress yourself in something more appropriate.” Alastor stopped in front of Vox with a sneer to his tone before he ungracefully dropped whatever he was holding in Vox’s lap. The other jumped at the sudden contact. He was honestly expecting this to be some sort of trap… but nothing happened. He scowled, narrowing his eyes before carefully grabbing whatever this was and holding it up in front of him.

“Oh! He fixed your suit!” Charlie chirped, clapping her hands. “I thought Nifty was taking care of that?” She tilted her head up at Alastor, who simply hummed in response before sitting down on the opposite end of the couch from Vox. Admittedly, he hadn’t been expecting this of all things. He was happy just leaving it here, but Charlie decided otherwise. “This is the perfect chance to practice saying thank you! Go on!” She urged Vox, smiling widely. The media demon fixed her with an uneasy expression, carefully setting the suit down on his lap. “Princess… You said these weren’t mandatory…” He ground out, risking a glance over at Alastor. He seemed unphased.

Charlie let out a nervous laugh, shrugging her shoulders. “Well… you’re already here, so… why not practice?” It was said in such an innocent and unknowing way, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes. Vox bristled at that, scowling at the ground before looking over at Alastor. The other wasn’t looking back on him, seemingly more fascinated with staring off at nothing. He should’ve been looking at him, no? His fans clicked once more, spinning faster as he clenched his hands into fists. “I.. appreciate it.” He finally ground out.

Alastor finally looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, were you talking to me?”

Vox jabbed a finger in his direction with a snarl, electricity dancing between his fingers. “Don’t play coy, prick!” He snapped, glaring daggers. Alastor’s smile remained unwavering, possibly twisting into something more smug and knowing as he leaned closer to Vox. “I don’t play, picture box.” He sang back, the corners of his mouth tugging further and further upwards. Before Vox could say anything else, Charlie cut in. “Alastor! If… you could just… y’know… play along here, that’d be great! Helping the hotel and all!” She gave a thumbs up, smiling and nodding. Alastor’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before drifting back to Vox as he sat back upright, silent.

“It was of no trouble.” Alastor finally responded, blinking slowly before looking away once more, seemingly settling his attention on the bar. Vox let out another huff, shoulders heaving as he slouched back where he was sitting. Charlie clapped her hands excitedly, seemingly satisfied with the interaction. Vox didn’t share the same sentiment. He opted to go back to sifting through his systems and files, folding his arms over his chest and slouching down. It was of no surprise to him when, yet again, he was met with another error message. Error message after error message, and nothing was getting done. He didn’t even notice the time passing, nor the lack of bodies around him as people got up and left. He finally decided enough was enough when he got one last error message.

When Vox finally blinked back to reality, the couches were all empty. Instead, he noticed that most of the staff had seemingly swarmed around the bar. He blinked a few more times, checking down in his lap to see the suit was still there. He decided he’d put it on tomorrow as he quietly set it over his shoulder, deciding to make his way over to the bar. He’d almost forgotten that he was still injured until he started walking, and a burning hot pain flared through his ankle. He let out a hiss of pain as he folded over on himself, only to regret that when more pain burst through his ribs.

He quietly dropped down to a knee, clutching at the tie on the suit he was currently wearing with pained breaths. He had gotten a tad bit too comfortable sitting in the palace for the whole day. The pain had settled and become like background noise, and now that he was moving, he was suddenly aware of it all. His face twisted through a few grimaces as he slowly began to push himself back upright, wobbling unsteadily. And then, suddenly, there was the end of a stick in front of his face. His head snapped up from where he was on the ground to see who had shoved the stick in front of his face, only to falter when he realized who it was.

“Alastor…” He grit out, glaring up at him. The radio demon gleamed down at him, one of his ears twitching in the slightest. That meant something, but he wasn’t quite sure what it meant.

When Vox got no response, he scowled at the stick (which he realized was Alastor’s staff) before looking back up at him. “What?” He muttered, unsure of what to do. When he still got no response, he let out a quiet growl. “Do you need something? Are you losing viewers and need help from me?” He sneered. That seemed to spur Alastor into action, as he suddenly let out a sharp bark of a laugh. “Hah! No.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth with a small sigh. “I am helping you get back to your feet, dear podcast!”

Vox flinched at the names, though it was mostly out of surprise. He looked back and forth between the staff (when had it gotten fixed?) and Alastor a few times before begrudgingly grabbing onto the end of it. With little to no struggle, Alastor heaved him back onto his feet with a single tug before spinning the staff (show off) and setting it on the ground. Vox brushed himself off a little, trying not to wince at the little pieces of pain he still felt. “It would appear Charlie’s earlier practice in thanking had no results!” Alastor finally chirped back up, a grainy laugh track following his words. Vox twitched, looking up at Alastor with a sharp exhale. “What?”

Alastor spun the staff again, pointing the microphone end at Vox with an eager grin. “You haven’t thanked me yet for helping you back up!” He spoke so jovially, as if amused at the lack of response. Vox blinked a few times before shaking his head, frowning at Alastor. “Well, you hardly gave me a chance to say anything…” He grumbled. Alastor made an unconvinced noise, narrowing his eyes at Vox in the slightest. For some odd reason, the media demon felt pressured to say something. “...thank you for the help.”

Alastor’s eyes lit up and he swung his arms out in a gesture that expressed victory. “Marvelous, podcast, absolutely marvelous!” He sang as a cheering crowd played behind his voice. “At this rate, you’ll be on your way to redemption in no time at all!” He proclaimed. Vox took an uneasy step backwards, scoffing. “I’m not here to get redeemed.”

Alastor merely laughed at that, but said nothing more. That unnerved Vox.

Without saying anything else, Alastor turned to begin walking away, humming a tune happily. Vox spared a glance over at the bar again before deciding to shuffle after the demon. It didn’t take long for him to notice, of course, as he quickly stopped and turned around to look at him. “Do you require something?” It was a simple question, and Vox didn’t have an answer for it. Instead, he let an amused grin stretch over his screen. “What? Does me following you bother you?” He mused, tilting his head.

Alastor nodded. “Quite so.”

Curse him and his bluntness. Vox’s smile faltered in the slightest. No matter. He had an excuse already thought up. “Maybe you could give me a tour of your tacky little hotel, eh?” He mused, gesturing around. Alastor straightened up and gestured to the lobby. “This is the lobby,” and then gestured to the rooms, “And those are the rooms. Good evening to you.” And before Vox could get any last words in, he melted into the shadows with a warbled laugh. Vox stared at where the other had been just moments ago before heaving out a sigh. A quick glance in the direction of the bar revealed the bartender, Charlie, and Vaggie. Neither of the latter were drinking, but the bartender was. Interesting.

Without many other options, Vox decided to limp over and claim a barstool on the other side of Charlie. He managed to catch the end of another conversation (seemingly about lights) before the princess turned to him. “Oh! Hi Vox! Sorry we left you over there!” She gestured towards Vaggie. “We had to deal with some issues!” It didn’t seem like she had any intent on elaborating on what those “issues” were. Unfortunate. Vox offered a small nod in response, a lazy smile slowly forming on his face. “Can I ask what he does for this place?”

“Who? Husk?” Charlie gestures to the bartender now, and Vox shakes his head. “No, no… Alastor! What does he offer this place?”

Charlie blanches at that, as if hesitant to provide an answer. She seems to consider her options before clearing her throat. “He… protects us?” Which wasn’t necessarily a lie. He had protected them, but it felt like there was more to it than just that. But that wasn’t what Vox was getting at. He let out an amused laugh, shaking his head. “Doesn’t that seem a bit… bothersome?” If Alastor was going to be a nuisance, he would simply be a nuisance in return. But Charlie didn’t take the bait. The princess shrugged, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “He can be a, excuse my language, hard ass sometimes… but he’s nice company! And he’s, like, family now!”

Vox perked up at that. “Family?”

Charlie nodded her head. “Yeah! Like a… big dysfunctional family!” A smile followed the statement, and Vox returned it (those his held more malicious intent). “So he’s the deadbeat uncle?” He mused, startling as a laugh crackled to life behind him.

“And you must be the stray!”

Vox scowled as he spun on his seat, watching as Alastor (who seemed to have taken a sudden interest in being social) sat down. Alastor continued, lazily tracing shapes on the counter. “I must say… It truly is interesting that you seem to be having memory issues, yet you have no problem remembering to quarrel with me.” One of his ears twitches once more as he turns to look at Vox, eyes narrowed. Vox sputtered, shaking his head. “Are you trying to imply something?” He hissed as his fans clicked, spurring up a pace or two.

This time, it wasn’t Charlie that intervened. Rather, it was Vaggie. A spear swung down between the two, bringing her. “If you two are going to argue all the time, then both of you can get out!” She hissed, clearly agitated. Alastor made a noise as he set his hands on his lap, shrugging. “I have no quarrel with this picture box.” Vox furrowed his digital eyebrows at that, but said nothing more. Instead, he turned on the barstool and stood, limping a few paces away. “I’m calling it quits.” He announced as he trailed his way towards the steps.

An amused laugh came from Alastor once again. Here comes another jest. “I thought you had thicker skin, my dear friend! Seeing how you and your dear moth friend interacted, I would have assumed you’d have a higher resistance to petty jests!”

ERROR_BAD_ENVIRONMENT

Vox froze mid step, latching onto the railing with a sharp inhale. His vision flickered in the slightest, fuzzing and blurring. He could tell there had been an attempt to open some files, but it was clear that wasn’t working. His fans were humming loudly, now. He felt oddly uncomfortable. Before anyone could question the sudden stop, he shook his head and pushed past it, carefully pulling himself up the stairs and down the hall to his door.

ERROR_SEEK

The door clicked open and shut, and Vox wasted no time sprawling himself out over the bed. It wasn’t as comfortable as the one he had in the tower, but it would work for now. He just needed to recover, and then he would be back there in no time. Though, it was likely that his business partners were likely pondering his absence now. He would have called them if not for the lack of contacts in his system. He didn’t try to memorize numbers anymore, seeing as how they were stored in his system. But now that they were in said system, a part of him was feeling sour that he hadn’t memorized them. Did that make him a bad business partner? Eh.

He heaved out a sigh, shaking his head as he closed his eyes. He would worry about that more in the morning. For now, at the very least, he could get some rest. If he looked at it a certain way, this was just a vacation! A vacation that he hadn’t planned and that the other two didn’t know about. Sure, his stocks might suffer a little, but it wasn’t anything a poorly made product couldn’t fix! Though, he was still curious. For whatever reason, he’d written himself a note. For whatever reason, his system was in safe mode and couldn’t restart. A part of him knew that was bad, but a part of him just figured that he had been overreacting when whatever this was had happened.

He didn’t dwell on it for too long.

Chapter Text

Snow, contrary to popular belief, isn’t uncommon in hell. Depending on the ring you found yourself in, it might snow more often than not. The rings can get surprisingly cold, which is somewhat funny when you look at most modern depictions of the place. Flames blazing for eternity as you were tortured, left to rot in agony for the rest of your afterlife. The snow brought an odd bit of serenity to the landscape, however. It was nice and welcome. It honestly seemed to temporarily calm the hostility of the rings whenever it happened, too. There was no need to worry about anything.

And Vox is not worried about whatever happened.

That much is decided when he gets a knock on his door in the morning. Unlike his first night, he had spent the second night actually sleeping. Or, well dozing to some extent. He hadn’t kept count, but he had woken several times throughout the night with a jolt. The remnants of something he could not remember lingered heavy in his body. It was a feeling he could not easily chase away, despite his best attempts at it. Nonetheless, he persisted in sleeping, no matter how many times he awoke with an uncomfortable amount of sweat on his body.

He was glad to be in an actual, normal suit. The shark patterned one he had been given yesterday lay discarded on top of a dresser in his room, neatly folded. It was mostly out of habit, not because he respected the gift. Especially because he knew it was from Alastor, and it was a form of a taunt. Knowing their history, he could just imagine the gleeful smile that spread on the radio demon’s face when he picked out that specific suit. He shook the memory away, somehow managing to gracefully limp over to the door before opening it. With his posture tall and smile ready, he greeted…

“Greetings, old friend!”

His stature deflated upon seeing the red suited demon at his door. The smile fell from his face as well, and he could’ve swore he felt one of his bobbed antennas twitch. “Hello… Alastor.” He leaned to the side in the slightest, as if expecting someone to be behind the other. Nothing got past Alastor, of course, as he let out a cheerful laugh. “I am here alone, picture box! The princess sent me to retrieve you for trust exercises! How exciting!” A cheering soundtrack roared in the background of his speech, and he mimicked the language of someone genuinely excited. Vox knew it was all fake, of course.

“I told the princess that I didn’t have any interest in attending her little… sessions.” He settled on a word, narrowing his eyes up at Alastor. The other merely laughed and snapped his finger, and suddenly, Vox was being pushed out of his room. “Wh– hey!” Vox snapped, twisting around to catch a glimpse of a shadow melting back into the ground as his room door shut behind him. Alastor clapped him on the back, the motion sending newfound throbs of pain through his ribs. “Jolly good show! You’re already on the way there! Brilliant!”

Vox bit back a string of curses as he glared at Alastor. Still, he made no move to say or do anything as he began to begrudgingly limp towards the lobby. Now that he thought about it, he was still curious about plenty of things. Why had Alastor urged the hotel to help him, why had Alastor seemingly been helping in his recovery, and why had Alastor been doing all of everything he’d been doing since his arrival? He had half the thought to start interrogating him right now, but seeing his current condition, he opted against it. There was no need to start a quarrel in the hotel, and in his current state it probably wouldn’t end well anyways. He would have to hold his tongue for now.

Eventually, the pair finally made their way to the stairs. Vox heaved out an annoyed sigh as he grabbed onto the railings, gingerly beginning to make his way down each step. Alastor followed with each step, walking painstakingly slow so that the two were step in step. It was clearly being some form of bother to the other, however. His shoulders were tense and Vox noticed an impatient tapping of his fingers along the handle of the staff. A sly smirk formed on his face as he slowed his pace even further, taking extra long for each step. He could feel Alastor’s glare despite not looking at the demon, and it only made the smirk on his face grow even more.

At least, it’s all going to plan up until there’s a sudden spark. His fans click and make a noise that sounds wrong, and he stutters midstep, blinking as he hunches over in the slightest. There’s no error code message that pops up this time, and he can’t tell if he’s glad or not. That either means that there isn’t an error to be found, or there is an error with the error codes. Judging by the sound his fans are making, it could very likely be the latter. He drew in an unsteady breath, grimacing as the staff was suddenly pressed against his chest to nudge him back upright.

“I do not fancy myself in carrying you down these steps, picture box. Do keep from keeling over.”

An odd sting lanced through him at the comment, but he doesn’t do anything about it. Instead, he just glowers at the other as sparks dance between his antennas. “I’m nnnnnot k-keeling oooooover, you smiling fffffffreak.” He managed, voice slurring with glitches. Alastor’s ear twitched yet again, and his smile lessened a fraction. It was only momentary, however, as he nudged Vox forward with the staff once more. “Then you should have no problem making it to the bottom of these steps.”

Vox bit back another retort, shaking his head as he carefully continued down the steps once again. This time, the slow pace was not as intentional as before. He could feel himself overheating. The static interference between his antennas was beginning to buzz obnoxiously, making him feel oddly dizzy. It hurt. A lot. He could feel himself baring his teeth on his screen despite his attempt not to. He was sure a crash was imminent, and, quite frankly, he wasn’t too keen on crashing around these people just yet.

“Must you be so dramatic? I can see why you are a broadcaster on that picture box.” Alastor scoffed. There was a moment of silence before the static seemed to suddenly pop and dissipate. The fans whirred to a stop, and Vox blinked. The pressure was suddenly gone. Huh. He risked another quick glance in Alastor’s direction once again. He could’ve sworn he spotted him flicking away a bolt of electricity with a dismissive eye roll. With the sudden clarity, Vox managed to limp down the rest of the steps. The incoming threat of a crash was no longer present, and he was suddenly aware of the group at the lounge. And from what he could see, they seemed to be waiting for the other two. Great.

Vox slouched down onto one of the couches with a grimace, gently curling over to press his clawed fingers against his ankle gingerly. He was lucky that it would heal faster than normal due to his powers, but it was still a nuisance for the time being. He noticed a suspicious scowl from Angel Dust, who just so happened to be next to him on the couch. With a sigh, Vox sat up and leaned back, fixing him with an unimpressed look. Angel Dust continued to scowl at him. “Whatever happened with you and Val better be worth something.” He grumbled.

A sense of unease crept over Vox. He let out a nervous laugh as a digital smile crept over his screen. “What?” But before he could get an answer to that, Charlie was clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, okay! We’ve got a great trust exercise today! I had Nifty go hide a bunch of things around the hotel.. For a scavenger hunt!”

Almost immediately, Husk (that was his name, wasn’t it?) spoke up with a quirked eyebrow. “How’sa scavenger hunt s’pposed to be a trust exercise?”

“You and your partner will communicate with each other to find the objects! And…” She drew a hand out from behind her back, seemingly squinting at a note card. “And… build trust through shared communication, problem-solving, and reliance on teammates’ abilities.” She cleared her throat, quickly shoving her hand behind her back again. “Nifty has made us a list of what we have to find, as well as given us our groups!” With a broad wave of her hand, she gestured to the small coffee table set between the couches, which had pieces of paper on them.

Vox grumbled something incoherent even to himself under his breath as he reached forward to scoop up a piece of paper. Upon reading the list, it didn’t seem like it would be an incredibly hard task. There was a bell, a do not disturb sign, a universal remote, one of the hotel’s pamphlets, a contact list, a candle, a room key that ended in a five, a branded pen, and a snowball.. That was the easy part. But then his eyes drifted to the bottom of the paper, where the teams were listed; Charlie and Vaggie, Husker and Angel Dust, and finally, last but not least, Alastor and Vox.

Once again, he felt himself bristling as a buzz of static began to burn angrily between his antennas. Alastor, on the other hand, seemed unbothered. In fact, the radio demon seemed more interested in rereading what was on the paper. Before Vox could get the chance to object, Charlie clapped her hands. “Scavenger hunt starts… now!” And with that, she grabbed Vaggie and went tearing off down a hallway. That left Angel Dusk, Husk, Alastor, Vox, and Nifty (when had she gotten there?) to linger in the lounge. Neither group seemed intent on moving anytime soon. In fact, Husk heaved a tired sigh and slouched down where he was sitting. “Wake me up when this is over…” He grumbled, to which Angel Dust rolled his eyes. “C’mon, whiskers. Can’t go gettin’ shown up by the princess, now, can you?”

And then it was Alastor and Vox (and Nifty, but she seemed busy stabbing at an already dead bug). No one moved. Vox could feel static other than his own buzzing in the air, as if building up momentum and tension. Eventually, he set the paper down on the empty space of the couch. “So are you glad you dragged me out of my room?” He almost teased, tilting his head to the side. Alastor didn’t look up from the paper, his smile unwavering. Vox frowned, furrowing his digital eyebrows with a hum. “You aren’t seriously considering doing this, are you?”

Finally, Alastor looked up. His smile lingered on his face, though he gave no answer. Vox frowned further, shrinking in on himself. “So you are?” He pressed. And still, no answer. In fact, Alastor seemed to bare his teeth even further with a smile. The media demon gestured away from the two. “Can’t you just summon all this stuff anyways?” He continued.

Alastor continued to smile.

Vox let out an irritated growl as he stood up. “Fine. I’ll go look for it.” Huh? The idea had just sounded idiotic moments ago. Now he was storming up to go look for the items. Maybe it was something spiteful. He heard a shift behind him and glanced back just in time to watch Alastor stand as well, neatly folding the paper before pocketing it. Vox rolled his eyes, turning back around to storm onward. Most of the items could be found at the lobby’s front desk. Honestly, he was surprised that no one else had gone there just yet.

Upon inspecting said desk, he managed to snatch a bell (which he did, in fact, press to hear the playful chime), a branded pen, a pamphlet, and a room key that ended with a five. That was a majority of the list gathered in one fell swoop. Oddly enough, he felt a pulse of pride. With an almost smug grin, he turned back to face his teammate, waving the items proudly. “I got these.” He announced, waiting for a reaction. He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get one. Alastor simply stared back at him with the same hollow, empty smile that he always had.

After waiting another awkward moment or two, Vox brushed past the demon and began to make his way towards one of the rooms on the first floor. Luckily for him, the key he had grabbed belonged to one of the first floor rooms. He’d thought that far ahead! It took no time at all to get his hands on the rest of the items in the list, but he couldn’t help but notice that Alastor simply stood by and watched. He narrowed his eyes as he turned to face the radio demon, pointing the branded pen at him. “Are you gonna help or not?”

That finally got a reaction. “Were you not the one who didn’t want to participate to begin with?”

Vox faltered for just a moment before shaking his head with a scowl. “Well, now I am. So why not help?” There was no need to start a fight over this. But he was still irritated by the lack of effort put forth by his teammate. Alastor laughed at his response, tsking softly. “You are mistaken, dear friend. I have found the control for the picture box!” And, oddly enough, there seemed to be some genuine pride in his voice as he brandished the universal remote. Vox felt his shoulders sag in the slightest as a bit of tension leaked out. “Oh… uh, good. Good.”

Alastor’s ear twitched, and his eyes narrowed in the slightest.

Vox hesitated before quickly walking past him out the door (a luxury he normally wouldn’t be able to afford). They had everything on the list. All that was left was a snowball! Nifty must’ve been looking at the weather forecast when thinking of this. A small part of him wondered what the weather forecast had looked like. Or any news, for that matter. He had been missing a lot of work, after all. He’d likely be swamped with papers whenever this got figured out. Not only that, but he was already beginning to dread all the emails he would have to go through.

He was still feeling bitter about the lack of memory and functions. He still had to look into getting that fixed, which would be no easy task. Anyone he knew would jump at the chance to kill him in his current state, and he couldn’t do it himself. He’d have to see what he could do for the time being. But with his powers limited, that didn’t leave him with a lot of freedom. As much as he hated to admit it, the hotel was his safest option for the time being. The tower was always a possibility, of course, but he knew his past self wouldn’t have written that note for no reason. Not for anything silly.

“What does this button do?”

Vox was startled out of his train of thoughts by the crackling sound of Alastor’s voice. Before he could turn around to see what he was doing, there was a sudden clicking in his head. He grimaced at the sound and sudden uncomfortable sensation, but didn’t stop turning to face Alastor. The radio demon had pressed a button on the remote. Huh. Vox squinted, clearing his throat. “What did you press?” Ah. His volume had gone up. Odd. Another hardware error to look into. Yippe.

Alastor twirled the remote in his hands, shrugging. “Why, I can not seem to remember. Tragedy.” Sarcasm dripped from his words. So he knew what he was doing and what he had done. Vox inhaled and exhaled a few sharp breaths before turning to continue walking towards the front doors of the hotel. They could get a snowball and be done for the day. After that, they wouldn’t need to do anything else. He wouldn’t have to do anything else. But as he continued to limp forward, there was another click. His fans lurched into action as his screen flickered, replaced by another scene.

”Val.”

That was Vox speaking, a slight distortion and crackle to his voice. The scene laid out was taking place in a dimly lit room. There was still enough light to see the gleam of a certain moth demon’s gold tooth and the plume of his red smoke. It was taken from Vox’s point of view, that much was obvious. There was a faint blue illumination to whatever was in front of the lens, which just so happened to be Valentino. The looming demon let out a playful smile as he took a long drag from his cigarette before breathing out another cloud of red into Vox’s face.

The media demon let out a surprisingly crackly cough, and a hand came up to wave the smoke away. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t do that.” It was becoming more and more evident that the pair were laying down with Valentino hovering over the other. Said demon let out a teasing hum as he leaned down closer to Vox, baring his fangs in a malicious smile.

”You aren’t the one in charge here, amorcito.”

Vox seemed to suddenly jolt as the scene suddenly shifted. There was a hiss of pain, followed by a breathy, airless exhale. “I was thinkin’ about talking about what happened earlier.” Vox croaked out, tilting his head. Valentino pushed himself back up away from Vox, his small falling away into a disappointed frown. “I didn’t bring you here to talk, Voxxie. You should know that by now.” It almost sounded like a sneer, but there was a sickeningly sick sweetness that lingered behind his words.

Vox cleared his throat, shifting. “We can’t just brush over it. It’s important for the future of our business, and I really think–”

There was a sudden crackle of static as the scene blurred. There was a cracking sound, and when the lens refocused, Valentino was closer once again. His lips were curled back, teeth bared in what could not be a smile. One of his hands was clearly holding Vox by the screen, but not in an endearing way. Judging by the flickering and fuzziness on half of his vision, the screen had been damaged. Damaged by Valentino.

”You selfish fucking–”

The scene blurred away, and Vox jolted back to reality with a startled gasp. He stumbled forward, knees wobbling dangerously as he reached up a hand to touch at his screen. No cracks. But there was a lingering sensation. Albeit faint, it was still there. A sense of deep unease washed over his body was he drew in careful, calculated breaths. His fans were slowing down, clicking with each notch that passed. Static energy was buzzing between his antennas, though it was quickly fading.

“...Ahah! I see what that one does!”

Alastor. Vox twists around from where he is standing hunched over, glaring daggers over at the radio demon. Despite the cheery demeanor that Alastor holds, his smile has lessened just a fraction, and his eyes are narrowed to a dangerous degree. Is he seriously mad right now? After he was the one that pressed the button? Bubbling hot irritation forms in Vox’s chest as he lowers his hand away from his screen, pointing a hooked finger at Alastor. “No more buttons.” He hisses, hand trembling in the slightest.

Alastor simply tilts his head. There is no teasing retort that comes with the action, though, and Vox is thankful for that fact. For the time being, however, he feels more focused on finishing up this activity so he can go back to his room and ponder whatever the fuck that was. It wasn’t anything he remembered, that was for sure.

With an exhausted huff, he pushes forward to the hotel doors before slinking out with Alastor trailing behind him. There’s an immediate shift in temperature accompanied with a cold breeze. The colors outside look much duller than normal, as if shaded over with a grey. There is snow falling, but it isn’t enough to make a snowball. Not yet. Fucking fantastic. With another huff, Vox scuffs the ground with his shoe and promptly plops himself down on the ground. He might as well sit out here and wait. Besides, it would let his systems cool off a bit.

He doesn’t look over at Alastor, but it is clear that he has decided to remain standing. Right next to him. Uncomfortably close, in fact. Vox can feel the static creeping around the guy, and it’s enough to make him scoot away in the slightest. An uncomfortable silence follows, only filled by the sound of wind every now and then. That and the faint sound of violence persisting in the distance.

His arms are crossed over his chest, his claws impatiently tapping along his arm.

Surprisingly, Alastor is the one who breaks the serenity of the scene.

“Do you remember that?” It’s a simple question, and it doesn’t seem to carry any other kind of intention behind it. Still, it makes Vox cast a scowl up at him. “No, I don’t remember that.” He huffs out, watching as a puff of air trails up after he speaks. Notably, the same does not happen for Alastor when he responds. “Convenient.” And he seems to slouch in the slightest, as if realizing that he will not get much more of anything out of him. Vox turns and looks away, fixing his gaze on the ground. He can see each piece of snow landing and filling the tiny gaps that are still left. Slowly but surely, a thin layer of dull white is laying itself over Hell.

Alastor speaks up again, deciding to change the subject. “Have you ever experienced snow before?” An innocent question, yet Vox still feels like there is an underlying trap set for him. He responds. “Yeah… I’ve been down here for a while.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. Alastor tuts softly, tapping his staff on the ground. “In your life, picture box.” He clarifies, to which Vox sighs. “Yes, I did. Why?” His words come out more accusatory than intended, but Alastor doesn’t react to that.

“My first time experiencing it was here.” He gestures to the rest of the city in the distance, humming in a relaxed way. “It was not common to see it where I lived in my life. It is quite an interesting phenomenon.” It almost seems like he’s talking to himself, but then he adds a rather silly question. “You picture boxes experience snow, no?”

Vox looks back up at Alastor at that, exhaling something between an incredulous laugh and a sigh. “You mean TV snow?” The radio demon doesn’t nod or offer a response, but the unwavering smile is enough of a confirmation for Vox to continue. “That… isn’t the same thing. TV snow is when there isn’t any signal that’s being obtained.” He explains, tapping one of his antennas. “And snow is… snow.” He shrugs unhelpfully. Alastor’s tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth, shifting in place. “Where do you receive your signal from?” Another innocent question, though this one could very clearly be hiding some sort of ulterior motive. Either way, the answer Vox gives is both truthful and reveals nothing dangerous.

“I don’t have one. I think I produce a signal of my own… so whenever there’s an outage, it usually means I lost my signal because I crashed or… something like that.” He offers another shrug yet again, brushing a small layer of snow off his suit. Alastor’s ear twitches again, discarding a few of the snowflakes that have landed in the hair (fur?). “Such as your tantrum when I first returned.” There’s a teasing tone there. Vox slouches, shoulders hiking upwards as he groans. “Yes, like that one.”

The silence that falls over the pair is more comfortable this time. Vox is, admittedly, having an okay time. The snow is falling at a generally quick pace. It shouldn’t take much longer before they are able to make a snowball and finish the scavenger hunt. He’s a bit curious as to why none of the other groups have shown up just yet, but he decides that they just haven’t found the items yet. Knowing the other four, it makes sense to him. Well, maybe not Vaggie.

He hears his fans click once again, this time turning off. There’s no need to have them running if he is already outside in the cold. That alone should be enough of an effort to keep his systems from overheating, and he’s thankful for that. While his fans running is a small and automatic process, it still takes some energy. Not having them running can be relieving at times. To some extent, the same could be said about the safe mode he was currently stuck in. Normally having all those processes put on hold would be nice, but not when he wanted and needed access to those processes.

“What is a snowball?”

Vox cranes his head back up to look at Alastor, who is staring down at him owlishly. The media demon heaves out another incredulous laugh, raising a digital eyebrow. “Seriously?” He breathes, and the radio demon narrows his eyes. “Deadly.” He confirms, and Vox heaves out another laugh. With an amused head shake, he slowly leans forward, scraping his hands along the snow to slowly gather a small mound in his palms.

Alastor makes an unimpressed noise. “That does not resemble a ball in the slightest.” He mutters, disappointed. It’s Vox’s turn to tut softly now as he begins to carefully pack the snow into shape, pressing his palms against the cold to form a sphere. That seems to catch Alastor’s interest, as he suddenly leans down to inspect the snowball. “Peculiar… and its function?” A head tilt in Vox’s direction, and the media demon suddenly feels oddly flush. “It… doesn’t have a function.” He offers lamely before suddenly perking up. “Can you.. Go stand over there?” He asks, pointing a few paces away from where the two are currently standing and sitting.

Alastor glances over in the direction before back at Vox, no longer smiling with his teeth. Vox rolls his eyes, slowly pushing himself to his feet with a strained grunt. “Trust me.” At the look Alastor gives him, he suddenly sputters. “Ah– work thing– uh– believe in me?” An awkward stumble and save (if you can even call it a save), but it’s better than the first one. He’s surprised that Alastor so willingly strides those few paces out, shaking his head softly. “I do not understand how this pertains to–”

thunk!

Alastor’s words cut off abruptly as the snowball hits his suit, splattering cold, icy solid all over him. If Vox wasn’t mistaken, it looked like the fur (no way that could be hair) on Alastor’s ears had puffed out. The radio demon slowly craned his head up to look at Vox, wearing a fanged smile. With an amused grin, Vox finds himself laughing as he explains. “That’s what snowballs are for! Snowball fights!” It feels good to get back at Alastor until he watches as shadowy tendrils reach up for the ground and begin to gather mounds of snow.

“Hey– hold on, Al…”

thunk!

The snowball lands directly in the middle of Vox’s screen, and promptly knocks him off his feet. He lands on his back with an ‘oof!’ as he stares up at the sky above. He can see past the snow on his screen, but it’s slowly losing his shape and spreading out all over his face. With a grunt, he pushes himself into a sitting position, shaking the snow off his face as he looks back over at Alastor. Several more snowballs have been made and are ready to fire. Judging by the look on Alastor’s face, he seems to be having some fun.

“...no hard feelings, right?” Vox attempts weakly, holding up his hands in a surrender motion. He catches the sound of interference from Alastor as the tendrils slowly slink away. Instead of commenting on what just happened, Alastor suddenly seems to perk up as he grabs one of the snowballs between his claws. “We appear to have obtained our prize.” A simple note. Oh, right. They were out here for a scavenger hunt. It was about time, too, because Vox could begin to feel himself starting to get cold. Though, as he gets up, he can’t help but squint. “How do we keep the snowball from melting?”

“Not to worry, old friend!” Alastor lets out a hearty laugh as a small flash of green encases the snowball. Vox, while not entirely understanding what Alastor just did, can assume that the snowball won’t melt anymore. He heaves himself back up onto his feet with the same amount of struggle as always, the thin layer of snow crunching under his feet. “Then let’s go back inside.”

The moment Vox stepped back into the building, he could feel the blast of warmth. It was a welcoming contrast compared to the cold they had just been in. That wasn’t the only thing he noticed, however. There was a suspicious amount of people gathered at the lounge. “What.” A small spark streaked between his fingertips. “How?!” They hadn’t even been outside! There was no way they could’ve gotten a snowball! But as he stormed (limped) over, he suddenly became aware of the fact that absolutely no one had similar items. Blankets, pillows, towels, complementary soaps, and more were strewn out across the small table that sat in the center of the lounge. Vox hesitated, screen glitching as his fans clicked back on.

Alastor finally walked over, stopping next to Vox with an unimpressed hum. With a quiet cracking sound, he whipped his head to look over at Nifty. “Nifty, darling, were any of our lists the same?” It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the answer was yes, but it seemed that he was asking anyway. Said little demoness looked up from where she had been stabbing at the still dead bug, smiling widely. That was enough of an answer for Alastor. He waved his hand dismissively at her, and she skittered away with a maniacal laugh.

“So… none of us won?” Charlie groaned out, slouching over where she was sitting. Husk let out a low growl, pointing at Charlie with a scowl. “I told’ja that this wasn’t a good exercise.”

Angel Dust glanced up at the other two, finally seeming to notice the snowball in Alastor’s hand. He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “What’s with the snowball?” He hummed. Alastor didn’t flinch, smiling all the same. There was no answer, but Angel Dust didn’t seem confused. Vox heaved out a sigh, tapping a foot on the carpeted floor with a huff. While the scavenger hunt had… turned out less excitable than originally thought, Vox was curious about one thing. He spared a glance at the universal remote that was poking out from one of Alastor’s pockets, eyes narrowing as his screen dimmed.

Whatever button Alastor had pressed had caused something to play on his screen. Something that he didn’t remember. Yet, he seemed to remember feeling it. At the thought of it, another dull ache throbbed on his screen. The bandages he had suddenly felt itchy. They probably needed to be changed by now. Or maybe he had managed to heal off the afflictions.

“I suppose there is no use for this, then.”

Before Vox can fully process what Alastor has said, there is a sudden chill over the top of his screen trailing down the front and back. He startles, letting out an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp as he begins to swat and brush away whatever was just dropped on him. And, judging by the lack of snowball in Alastor’s hands, he can make a pretty good guess.

“Alastor.” He seethes.

“What?”

Embarrassment burns at his face, and he’s happy that the interaction only garnered a few laughs from the observing party. Nonetheless, the bitterness lingers. He grumbles, straightening up before readjusting his suit with a small hum. Alastor’s ear twitches again, the corners of his mouth twitching for just a moment. Vox decides to turn his focus to Charlie, trying to emphasize the exasperation he’s feeling in the moment. “Is that all?”

Charlie finally looks up from where she has slouched over, a deep frown carved into her features. He’s hopeful that the dejected princess will dismiss them. But, to his horror and dismay, the frown on her face quickly twists into a determined scowl. “No. We have one more exercise to do!”

The sound of air rushing comes from Vox’s side, and when he turns to see what it was, Alastor is gone. Lucky bastard. If only Vox had more access to his powers. Husk seems to share his sentiment. The demon lets out a tired groan, sinking further down onto the couch. Angel Dust doesn’t outwardly show any disagreement, but there’s a slight flicker of hesitance in his eyes.

“Let’s make some lunch together!”

This time, all three of the demons groan.

Chapter Text

The staff at the hotel very quickly find out that Vox is not a good cook.

He’s never had to take care of that himself. For the most part, he just had a tendency to order food or eat somewhere fancy with Valentino. It shouldn’t be a surprise that he didn’t have any skill when it came to the culinary arts. Still, Charlie had insisted on him partaking in the activity. It took a little less than than five minutes for flames to start rising into the air angrily as whatever Vox had been attempting to do quite literally went up in flames. After a moment of frantic shouting, the flames had been put out and Vox retired back to the lounge.

The distant sound of talking faded out as he let himself relax in the slightest. It’s only his second day at the hotel, and it feels wrong to allow himself the luxury of being so calm. His guard is down and he’s left many openings that would normally get him killed any other time. A small part of him is still on edge, but the rest of him seems to have acknowledged the fact that the likelihood of him getting attacked is low. Especially while he is inside. The worst that could happen seemed to be a snowball assault, and that wasn’t anything he couldn’t recover from.

tap tap tap

His eyes trailed over the room slowly before coming to rest on the small television in the lounge. A remote was set out on top of it, almost in a taunting way. It was worth noting that the remote seemed similar to that of the one Alastor had been holding. Maybe it was the same one? Unlikely. It was probably grabbed from the room during the scavenger hunt. Besides, he doubted that Alastor would even remember to put the remote back. Or, at the very least, he wouldn’t because he’d think of it to be funny.

tap tap tap tap tap tap

His legs bounced up and down in place, clawed fingers slowly tapping along his arms as he stared at the remote. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to look away and gaze around the lobby. No one else was in sight for the moment, but he could hear voices distantly talking about food and something burning. Other than that, there was a suffocating silence and loneliness in the air. No one was around. He weighed his options for a few moments before reaching over with a cable to grab the remote, pulling it into his hand.

He studied it for a few moments before tentatively aiming at himself and lowering the volume. After clicking a few times, he dared to attempt to speak. There was no sound that followed the attempt. A surprised blink followed before he slowly raised the volume back up, squinting. He still wasn’t sure what Alastor could have clicked for that to start playing. As far as he could tell, it hadn’t happened. It could truly just be a trick with Alastor’s magic for all he knew. But still, he felt inclined to investigate.

He attempted a few more buttons, quietly testing them out to make sure nothing drastic happened. There wasn’t anything that could make some random recording. Especially not a recording projecting from his point of view. His thoughts trailed back towards the idea of it being a trick of Alastor’s magic as his claws hovered over a few more buttons. A quiet click sounded as he pressed down, and his fans suddenly whirred to life as a scene overtook his vision.

”What does this do?”

It was from his point of view yet again. The scenery had changed this time, seemingly taking place in Vox’s office. The lighting was better than the prior scene. The voice that had spoken clearly belonged to Valentino, and the camera quickly shifted up from some paperwork to look at the moth demon. He was sitting on top of Vox’s desk, carefully prodding at something behind his screen. It was likely a button on the back of his frame, or maybe a port for a cable.

”I’m busy, Val.” Vox responded, raising a hand up to guide Valentino’s hand away and down from his head. Valentino let out a sound similar to a trill as he tilted his head, fluttering his eyes at Vox. “Too busy for me?” He tested, to which Vox didn’t respond. The camera angled back down to the paperwork, which seemed to be about some past product they had put out. A few moments of silence passed before there was shuffling. Suddenly, the camera jolted.

”Val–”

”Shut up.”

There was a sudden click, and the vision feed cut. While that was gone, there was still audio. Audio that was playing. More shuffling and more clicking, followed by an ear-splitting screech of some sort. A distorted sound came from Vox, warbled and warped with glitches. It wasn’t coherent in any way, but it clearly wasn’t any sentence. It was just a sound. An unhappy one, at that.

”Just hold still for me.”

There was more shuffling. And suddenly, there was a loud cracking sound. A distorted sound followed once again, followed by the sound of lights flickering and sparks flying. A new sound started, similar to a scraping sound. It sounded like metal being torn into. Another high-pitched sound followed, this time laced with pain. Static was beginning to overtake the screen now, slowly enveloping everything until nothing was there. Nothing but a blinking signal lost box, and the faint sound of distorted speaking.

Vox blinked back to reality, antennas bobbing slightly as he jerked backwards. An unsettling sensation was buzzing over his body, somewhat more focused in some areas than others. There was no mistaking that it was Valentino and him, but that had never happened. What confused him further, however, was more of the fact that the papers had been real. He remembered signing those papers and going through them. He remembered explaining the new product with Valentino and Velvette. He distinctly remembers Valentino being far less interested in it, but he had brushed it off at the time.

A sense of unease was beginning to creep over him again. With a small frown, he set the remote back on top of the television. It was fine. He told himself as he folded one leg over the other, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. It felt a bit harder to breathe. He ignored that. It was probably just a made up memory. Or a dream, for that matter. Still, he couldn’t shape the lingering sensation of something ghosting over his body. Maybe it’d be a good idea to focus on trying to bypass safe mode. Just for the time being, anyway.

By the end of that day, Vox still hadn't had any luck.

Between Charlie randomly pestering him and his inability to do anything without an error code, it gives him no progress. He’s considering giving up on it at this point with everything considered. He isn’t in any immediate danger, so he technically doesn’t need to fix the problem right away. It would just be a preference of his. A luxury. One that he currently cannot afford. It’s unfortunate, but he can live, and that’s all he really cares about in the end.

A small part of him is stuck thinking about the scavenger hunt from earlier on in the day. He had found it to be entertaining, as much as it pained him to admit such a thing. It had passed time, and he got to throw a snowball at Alastor. Take that. But even then, it hadn’t taken up the whole day. There wasn’t a lot to do at the hotel aside from the exercises that Charlie had every now and then. While originally hesitant to the idea, he feels as though he is somewhat more open to the thought of participating. If it gives him a way to pass time, there’s no harm.

As of the moment, he finds himself to be lacking in the socialization department. While no longer human, the nature of being one in his life seems to have carried over to some extent. There’s still that longing for other people, and a desire to be social. His connection with the media likely doesn’t help that, and his lack of connection to the media as of late surely isn’t healthy in that way. Luckily for him, there are two people that just so happen to be set up at the bar once again: Husk and Angel Dust.

The two spend the majority of the day there. Despite the lack of guests at the hotel, Husk seems intent on staying at his post, and Angel Dust just seems to enjoy his company. With the quiet buzz of static dancing over his screen, Vox stands up from the couch he has set up camp at for the day and begins to limp over. Two heads perk up and look in his direction when he does so, one looking more displeased than the other. Right. Angel Dust wasn’t a fan of his. Fork found in kitchen.

When he sits down in the chair, he’s surprised to immediately have a small shot glass slid over to him by Husk. Upon inspecting the glass, the cat heaves out a gruff sigh and shakes his head. “It ain’t poison.” He mutters, wiping out the inside of another empty glass. The static buzzing over Vox’s face lessens in the slightest as he brings the glass to his face, tentatively tasting the drink. Judging by the instant burn that trails its way down his throat, he safely assumes its whiskey.

“Never thought I’d see an overlord set a kitchen on fire.” Husk speaks up once again, an eyebrow raised as he eyes the overlord up and down.

Vox coughs a little at that, tugging nervously at his bowtie. “I, uh.. Don’t cook often.”

Angel scoffs. “Yeah. We can tell.” He rolls his eyes over at Vox. The media demon watches as the sinner’s eyes trail up and down, scanning over his body for a few moments. Then, Angel scrunches up his face distastefully. “You staying here better be worth having Val on my ass.” He complains, turning back to lean over the counter. “He’s got me pulling these long shoots. Dude has been on his high horse since you showed up here.” Surprise to no one. Vox quickly finishes the rest of the small glass before tilting his head in Angel’s direction.

“Has he… said anything?”

Angel laughs at that. “What hasn’t he said about it?” He waves a hand around in the air in a vague motion, as if disinterested in the conversation. “That you’re a selfish prick and you’re dramatic and blah blah blah.” That didn’t give him much to work with. Vox made a little noise, tapping his claws on the counter absentmindedly. “Anything about what happened?” He presses, a somewhat nervous smile plastered on his screen. Angel looks back at him, exhaling out another laugh. “So you really don’t remember?”

Vox narrows his eyes dangerously at that, a sharp bolt of electricity running between his antennas. “No.” He confirms stiffly, bristling. Angel Dust glares back at him, turning on the barstool to face him with an equally upset expression. “How convenient.”

“Alright!” Husk cuts between the two, shoving his wings between them to push them away from each other in the slightest. “Sit your asses down and have a few drinks. I’m not dealin’ with a bar fight tonight.” With a wave of a wing, two glasses are set out before the two. In a matter of seconds, they are filled up with a rich amber colored liquid.

The two demons awkwardly sit forward in their seats before Angel makes a noise. “Sorry ‘bout being a hard ass. It comes with the job.” He offers, taking one of the glasses when Husk finishes filling it up.

Vox nods, taking the other glass. He traces the rim of the cup with his claw, gently as not to scratch or chip it. Angel speaks up once more. “The way he makes it out, you two got into a fight or something.” He explains. Vox looks up at that. Valentino has had his tantrums in the past, yes, but he has no memory of them fighting. Just silly arguments and, as he said, tantrums. He supposes the word “fight” could be an over exaggeration here, but it’s still interesting to hear.

Husk clears his throat. “Alastor mentioned seein’ somethin’ play on your screen.”

Vox snaps his head to look over at the cat, screen flickering with static for just a moment. “He what!?” He snaps. Almost immediately, Husk curls his lips at Vox and points a claw at him. “Calm down.” It’s a simple, gruff order. With a growl, Vox obliges, sinking back into his seat as he brings the glass to his mouth to take a drink. More whiskey.

“Boss said a recording played on your screen.” Husk clarifies, tail flicking behind him. “He didn’t specify after that.”

Angel makes an amused sound. “He knows what a recording is? I guess radios can record stuff… sorta.” Hm. Vox stands and turns, making his way back over towards the small lounging area in the lobby. He can feel Angel and Husk staring at him as he grabs the remote before limping back over and setting it down on the counter. The two blink owlishly before looking up at Vox with uncertainty carved into their faces.

Vox taps the counter with his claws. “He used this to make it play.” He explains with a shrug.

“..pfft.” Angel snorts, bringing up a hang to cover his mouth as his shoulders shake. “Sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just… a universal remote! Really?” He doesn’t even try to hide the cackle that trails the end of his sentence. Vox glares at him, his antennas bobbing as energy dances between each strand. Husk waves him off, pointing at the remote. “So the remote lets you look at past recordings?” He muses, to which Vox shakes his head.

“Can’t be. I don’t remember any of what plays.” He explains.

Angel scoffs, snatching the remote off the counter before aiming it at Vox. “We’ll be the judge of that!”

click!

A moment passes. Vox and Husk both share a confused blink. Angel freezes for just a moment before he continues to press the button, only to grow a nervous smile. “Ah… that was… the mute button.” He coughs a little, holding the remote closer to his face before grinning and pointing it back at Vox. “Now we’ll be the judge of that!”

“Angel, wait–”

It’s a different scene now.

Vox is staring into a giant tank of water where a massive shape is moving. A gentle cooing sound is coming from him, and his face is clearly pressed up against the glass. While the massive shape doesn’t ever come up to the glass, the wordless sounds of joy coming from Vox don’t stop. Well, at least they don’t stop until a door clicks. With a sharp gasp, Vox clears his throat and whirls around. “Val! You’re… early.”

Said moth demon is slowly stalking forward, blowing out a steady stream of those red clouds of smoke. “I thought you liked coming early.” There’s some sort of innuendo hidden in there, but it doesn’t throw Vox off guard at all. The media demon merely sighs in response, shoulders heaving up and down as he waves a hand dismissively at Valentino. “We’re here to discuss business, Val.” He grumbles, words edging on embarrassment.

Valentino let out a cruel sounding laugh as he brushed past Vox, circling the shorter of the two with a purr. “This is business.”

The camera tilted tilted, swinging over to Valentino. A plume of smoke overtook the visuals as Valentino breathed out into Vox’s face, eliciting a few choked coughs from him. “What did I tell you about doing that?” Vox hissed out, flapping a hand in front of his face to clear away the smoke. Valentino tutted softly, continuing to circle Vox. “You know I never listen to that boundary bullshit.”

”Well maybe you should consider starting to listen.”

There’s a snarl, and a whirl of wings and more smoke. Suddenly, the camera has flipped and is staring up at the ceiling. Valentino is on top of Vox, pinning him down onto his desk with bared teeth and heaving breaths. “Are you telling me what to do?” He smiles, and it’s something twisted and wrong. “You know better than that.”

A strained noise comes from Vox as his voice deepens and distorts into the grainy snarl. “Val.” It’s threatening, but Valentino doesn't flinch. “That’s cute.” He murmurs, leaning down closer to Vox. His head is barely in frame, and it’s clear his face is near Vox’s throat. Something must happen, as the camera is overcome by static. There’s a flash, and Valentino reels backwards and Vox lurches upright with a strangled sound. Valentino bristles, wings unfurling as he looms in front of Vox.

And he lurches forward, arms outstretched towards Vox as–

The feed cuts, and Vox comes spiraling back into reality. It’s dizzying. It’s the longest and most surreal “recording” so far, and it’s enough to knock him off balance. It must physically do so, too, because a pair of hands is quickly tugging him back upright. The remote is discarded on the counter, now. No one is touching it. He’s glad.

“Shit–”

Angel breaths out a single word, as if unsure of what else to say. Distantly, Vox wants to reciprocate the attitude. But there’s something else at the forefront of his mind: Valentino had done something there. Valentino had done something, and a small part of him was denying it. He knows Valentino isn’t the most affectionate at times. He knows the pair have gotten into arguments. But still, a small part of him doesn’t think that it's him. But it explains the hidden scar on his collarbone that resembled something of a bite mark.

Huh. He realizes dully, blinking a few more times. Whatever had just played wasn’t recent. It gave him an idea of what could have happened, but he still didn’t know. He still couldn’t piece together what happened. The idea is where his thoughts stopped, and he kept it like that. He would keep it far away and distant and foggy. He wouldn’t think about it.

“Ah.” He finally speaks, sitting upright in a robotic way. He tries to ignore the look Angel is giving him as he slowly stands up, readjusting his bowtie with a cheery grin. “Charming evening!” He chirps, shooting the pair with finger guns as he begins to slowly backtrack away from the bar. Husk opens his mouth to say something, but closes it shortly after with a tired scowl. Vox doesn’t wait much longer after that to turn on his heels and limp up the stairs to the hallway. Then, down the hallway to his room.

His fans are spinning too fast. Or is that his head?

It’s still snowing outside. If he focuses enough through the window for his room, he can see each little orb that drifts by. Somewhere up above, there’s a steady hum of energy and static. The radio demon is broadcasting. Of course. He had returned to those since his seven year absence. He could feel the energy between his antennas. It was interference. Oddly enough, it was welcome compared to the absence of stimulation.

He scrubbed at his eyes tiredly, grimacing at the pressure against his screen before lowering his hands away. He hadn’t ever taken the time to actually look at his room, and now was a better time than ever. It was small and simple. There was a bed, a bedside drawer, a dresser propped against a wall, and an old-timey television propped on top of the dresser. Right next to that was a radio. He could’ve laughed at that. He was certain that had been Alastor’s doing, and he wouldn’t be surprised if there was a radio in every single damned room in the hotel. Of course, that wasn’t all there was to the room. There was a bathroom attached, and plenty of other small details, but it was nice. Not as nice as his room back in the tower, but nice enough for the time being. Nice enough to provide some sense of security.

Vox limped over to the window, carefully sliding it open with minimal effort. It was quiet outside. The hotel was faraway from everything else, so he supposed the silence came with that fact. He somewhat missed the sound of being in the middle of everything. If he were to open a window back at the tower at this time, he was sure the sound of someone screaming would’ve been audible. Now, though, all he could hear was the wind. The silent, soundless wind as it pushed cold flakes of snow through the air. For it being Hell, it sure didn’t look, feel, nor sound like it at the moment.

He drew in a careful breath, slowly exhaling out into the cold air as he drew away from the window towards the drawer. His hand reached for the remote on top of the picture box, hesitating for just a moment as he glanced at the radio. He could still feel and hear the static interference from the broadcast Alastor was putting out. He grimaced, looking back and forth between the media options for a moment before grabbing the remote. He wasn’t sure what would even be on at this time of night, but he was sure there would be something. Something to keep his mind distracted. He’d think about that later.

For the time being, he silently flipped through the different channels. Some smaller news stations were playing something, but he didn’t care to look. None of the big news was ever taken up by them anyways. He always had his reporters there first, and if they weren’t there first, then they made it so they were the only ones there. Words clipped in and out as he pressed at the remote tiredly, switching through channel after channel before deciding to rest on a music one. It was something old-timey. Not something he recognized, but something he was familiar with.

“...Urgh… how humiliating.”

Vox reached his hands back up to cover his eyes as he leaned backward, flopping down onto the bed with a choked exhale. A moment later, one of his hands found its way down to his neck. He tugged haphazardly at his clothes, prying them away to trace his claws over the faint scar. It’d been there long enough to scar. It’d been deep enough to scar. His expression twisted as he pulled his hand away, dragging it down the side of his frame with a long sigh. He knew he deleted memories. But at the end of the day, he still had access to them, and could faintly remember them. But this memory was gone. Completely and utterly inaccessible.

He grimaced as the static interference seemed to sharpen for a moment, causing his antennas to bob uncomfortably. “Fuckin’ Alastor…” He muttered under his breath. Maybe if he got a USB, plugged it into a port, and had someone download the files from there? No. He didn’t trust anyone to do that. Especially no one at this hotel.

“At least it’s been figured out.” Vox mutters to himself, because who else could he be talking to? Val had hurt him. Val had damaged him. It was as simple as that, but he wished it wasn’t. Surely there was something else to it. Surely there was something more. Maybe he was wrong for assuming that. A part of him wanted to be wrong, but a part of him wanted to be right. If he kept thinking about it too much, he’d overload himself.

“...Fuck.” Vox exhaled an oddly sharp noise. “Fuck.”

The sound of static crackling around him filled the room. Despite his cap on powers, that doesn’t mean he isn’t able to use them. It’s enough to cause the lights in his room to flicker and spark before it all abruptly cuts and stops. He needs a drink. But after that interaction down at the bar, he finds himself unwilling to head back down. And once again, he’s back in silence. The surge from his powers had disrupted the television… and now, that stupid radio was on. And Alastor’s voice was filtering through, happily making his way through a broadcast.

“--and though I must say I cannot share the same perspective, I find it endearing!” An audience cheering track played after under the layer of his laughter. Vox bit back a growl as he sat back up, scowling at the radio on the other side of the room. The broadcast continued. “Some people truly do not understand when they are digging themselves a hole too deep to climb out of! I should now!” A small pause. “Kidding! Ahah!”

Vox rolled his eyes, pointing a finger over at the radio. With a zap, a bolt of electricity shot out and hit the object. With a warbling cry, it slowly turned off, the sound of the broadcast fading out with a dull buzz. Whatever. He grumbled, slowly laying back on the bed with a tired huff. Whatever. Whatever whatever whatever. A faraway thought in his mind briefly acknowledged that he should’ve probably closed the window, but he couldn’t bring himself to move and do it. His ribs were beginning to ache, a pain he hadn’t properly registered early.

And then there was a knock.

Vox didn’t respond, closing his digital eyes as he drew in a careful, slow breath. Then it came again. And again. And again. “Fuck– hold on.” He snapped out, sitting back up before rolling off the bed. He ignored the painful twinge in his ribs and ankle as he moved over to the door, opening it without looking through the eye hole. He was less than impressed to see Husk standing there, tail swishing across the ground behind him. He was holding a bottle of some whiskey in one hand and a roll of bandages in the other. Vox quirked an eyebrow.

Husk rolled his eyes, ears flattening down against the back of his head. “Don’t give me that. Charlie told me to help change your bandages.” He muttered, pushing past Vox into his room with a low growl. Vox folded his arms behind his back, the relaxed smile he usually wore slowly returning to his face. “And the whiskey?”

“Figured you’d like a little something.” Husk offered, sitting down on the bed with a grunt. “Now get over here so we can get this over with.”

Vox grinned at that. “Well aren’t you a bossy little kitty cat.” He teased. Husk rolled his eyes. “Don’t patronize me fuckin’ screen face.”

“I’m sure Angel Dust is a fan.”

“Shut it.”

Vox let out a grainy laugh as he sat down on the bed, staring expectantly at Husk. The bartender stared back, eyes half-lidded. After a few moments of staring, Husk’s tail lashed once. “Take off your shirt.” He grumbled, slowly unrolling the bandages. Vox didn’t say anything, but the look he gave the feline was enough to earn yet another eye roll. It was… harder than Vox would like to admit to take his clothes off. Every time he raised his arms too high above his head, a stab of pain lanced through his ribs. Then there was just the fact that the cuts on his body were tender and sore.

Husk didn’t say anything. He simply got to work, reaching out to slowly unwrap the bandages around Vox’s body. Most of them were around his arms, but there were a few around his chest as well. It was quiet. Too quiet. Vox could still feel the static interference from Alastor’s broadcast. It was working as a distraction. Well, it was. Husk speaking up drew him back in.

“Does it hurt?”

Vox scoffed. “No.” It was a rotten lie. Husk seemed to know that, but he didn’t point it out. He just nodded his head, crumpling up the old bandages before setting them off to the side. He reached to grab the bottle of whiskey, holding it out to Vox. The media demon hesitated before shaking his head. Husk shrugged. “Your loss.” He grumbled, popping the lid off before ducking his head back to take a swig.

Vox looked away back towards the open window, and Husk followed his gaze. His fur seemed to puff out in the slightest. “Any reason you got your window open on this fine, cold night?” He grumbles, looking back to Vox as he continues to undo the old bandages. Vox snorts at that, shifting to raise his arms up as Husk begins to undo a bandage wrapped around his torso. “What? Is there some policy here against opening the windows?” He muses. Husk glances up away from the bandages for a moment, unamused.

There is no response, and the two lapse into a particularly uncomfortable silence. Husk is probably the best person to be doing this, though. Vox doesn’t think he could stand having the princess babble away to him, and he’s pretty sure that Vaggie and Angel Dust don’t like him. He doesn’t feel the need to note why Alastor is a bad idea, and the little maid is… interesting. He isn’t sure just what to think of her yet, but he knows that it isn't trusting at the very least. Not that he trusts Husk, of course. But he seems to be one of the more level-headed individuals residing at the hotel, so that works.

Vox grits his teeth before opening a palm towards Husk, motioning for the bottle whilst refusing to meet his gaze. He hears a small chuckle before he feels the cool glass in his palms. His claws clink against the bottle as he wraps his hand around it, quickly bringing it up to his mouth to take a swig of it as well. The burn that accompanies bitter taste in his throat, and it’s another factor of distraction.

“Angel offered ya’ a shoulder to lean on if you need it.” Husk finally speaks up again, beginning to dress the cuts in something before wrapping them in bandages. Vox exhales a breathy laugh, raising a digital eyebrow at that. “Are you sure you didn’t misinterpret your talented little friend?” He scoffs. Husk’s tail flaps up and down once as he cuts on the bandage he’s wrapping, patting it firmly before moving on to another area. “Nah. He doesn't joke about this sorta stuff.”

“This sorta stuff?” Vox echoes.

Husk nods, shrugging. “Val stuff.” He offers lamely, cinching off another bandage before reaching forward to draw one around Vox’s torso. “This one might hurt a little.” He warns. Vox brings the bottle back up to his mouth, taking a smaller swig before quickly lowering the bottle with a little laugh. “The recording didn’t mean anything.” It’s meant to be denial, but it comes off more as self reassurance. He doesn’t like that. Surprisingly enough, Husk doesn’t argue. “I ain’t got no say in what it is or isn’t. None of us do.” He cuts the bandage off, patting it firmly. Vox winces as the former overlord continues. “That part and whatever you do after that is up to you.” A small pause. “We may have our opinions, but at the end of that day, it’s your experience, ain’t it?”

Vox scowls at him for that. “I didn’t experience anything.” He says with a bit too much heat. Husk still doesn’t waver, continuing to calmly bandage the other areas of Vox that need care. “Maybe. Maybe not. If you don’t wanna talk about it, no one can force you to. But, coming from one man to another, it helps to talk.” With that, he raises a hand to pat Vox’s shoulder. Vox, again, sneers at him. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Then we’ll leave it at that.” Husk concludes, leaning back once he has finally finished wrapping the last wound. Vox falters in the slightest, blinking owlishly as Husk scoops up the old bandages and stands up. “That’s it?” He croaks out. Husk gives him a look, wings wrapping around himself. “What else is there?”

Vox doesn’t know how to respond to that.

So he doesn’t. Husk gives him a firm nod as he turns and heads back to the door. Before leaving, he turns and points back at Vox. “That’s goin’ on your tab, by the way.”

Vox musters up a not-all-that-there laugh.

And then he is alone with the wind and silence once again.

Chapter Text

His room is cold.

The first thing Vox notices when he wakes up is that his room is cold. There’s a discarded, notably empty, bottle on the bedside drawer. A small buzz still lingers on his tongue. He feels bleary. It takes a great amount of effort to lift his head from the pillows and look around. When he finally does, it becomes apparent that he had not closed the window last night. There still seems to be a steady downfall of snow outside, and he’s honestly surprised that there isn’t a small buildup of snow by the window.

Command Prompt

sfc /scannow

. . .

perform /report

A system diagnostics should be good. At least safe mode doesn’t disable his ability to access that function. While he lets that run in the background, he sluggishly drags himself onto his feet and moves over to the bathroom. His screen displays a tired looking screen. A scowl follows this revelation, and his screen fuzzes for a moment before a laid back look replaces the expression. The joys of being a somewhat technological being.

Overall test status: 100% complete

Hardware problems were detected. To identify and repair these problems, you will need to contact the computer manufacturer.

He shook his head dismissively. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that there was clearly damage to his system. He was more so focused on the “biological” part.

Minor damages sustained to exterior model. No help advised.

Vox shook the notifications away as he moved back out into the main room, making his way over to the window. The buzz of radio interference was gone, now. He lingered for a moment, scowling over the dull landscape before carefully sliding the window shut. He spares a brief glance towards the radio on the drawer before shaking his head and moving over to the door. It’s early in the day, which means people hopefully aren’t up and about. He needs a break from this room.

When he opens the door to step out, he’s immediately stopped by a flash of red at the bottom of his vision. With a slight delay, he cranes his head down, settling his gaze on Nifty. The small demoness is staring up at him excitedly, her singular eye widened to the point where it almost looks painful. She hasn’t said anything since he opened the door. Neither has he. For the time being, the two are locked in an awkward stare down. Until, finally, Nifty points past Vox towards his room. “I’m here to clean!” She grates out, as if unable to contain her excitement. Vox shifts a little to the left, clearing his throat. Nifty doesn’t move, continuing to bob up and down in place. When neither move again, she speaks up. “Permission!”

Vox blinks a few times. “Oh– oh. Ah, you… have permission to clean my room?” He manages, gesturing towards his room with both of his arms and an awkward smile on his face. A noise somewhere between a yip and a squeal comes from Nifty as her legs spur into motion, leaving her barreling into the room with the door closing swiftly behind her. Vox takes a few steps backwards away from the door, lingering a tad bit too long outside of his room.

“Good morning!”

Vox lets out his own indiscernible noise, whipping around with flailing arms as he comes face to face with Alastor. The radio demon doesn’t so much as blink at the reaction, his arms folded neatly behind his back as he wears that same, wide smile. “Give a guy a warning!” Vox heaves out, holding a hand over his chest. The sudden movement had left a painful ache that was, thankfully, quickly fading. Alastor tilts his head to the side with a crack, narrowing his eyes. “Now why would I do that?”

Vox turned away from him, shaking his head as he began to start making his way towards the lobby. He didn’t have to look back to know that Alastor was trailing after him, humming some old song. If he was being honest, Vox was fine with him just walking after him. But then he went and ruined it when he started speaking.

“You and that Husker fellow shared a wonderful conversation last night.” It’s a simple comment. A note, almost. Vox still bristles at that, not turning his head around to look at the other when he responds. “And how, may I ask, do you know about that?” He mutters. Alastor makes another little noise. “I like to stay up to date with what my souls are doing!” There’s the crackling sound of static interference. “Truly, Vox, you never know who may be listening! It’s astounding how much an overlord such as myself knows.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Vox finally cranes his head over his shoulder to look at Alastor. He should’ve known by now that he wouldn’t get an answer. His response was still the same twisted smile it always was. Vox doesn’t give him a reaction. He simply turns to look back forward as he finally reaches the stairs, grabbing onto the railing as he begins to slowly make his way down. Alastor moves to walk by his side, now, tapping his feet as well now. Vox doesn’t recognize the song he’s been humming and singing, but it brings with it some sense of familiarity.

“What’s the song?” Vox starts, refusing to look over at Alastor. The humming and tapping doesn’t stutter one bit. Alastor doesn’t provide an answer. Vox doesn’t press any further, deciding that he isn’t in the mood to get worked up over it. And Alastor continues to hum and tap his feet all the way down the stairs, eventually starting to hop every now and then. It’s a very restrained motion, but it’s still there. Vox notes that he hasn’t seen Alastor like this since… well… since a long time ago. A part of him missed it.

“Clear your schedule for the day, podcast!” Alastor suddenly breaks his silence, continuing to walk forward when Vox stops at the bottom of the stairs. Vox offers up a weak “I didn’t have anything anyways” before Alastor continues. “We are going out!”

“What.”

Alastor suddenly manifests his staff, spinning it before setting it down on the ground. “I’d like to visit a friend of mine, and I’m sure the princess would agree with me that it would be good for you to get out!” He chirped. Vox felt himself physically deflate at that, shoulders hunching as he hung his head in the slightest. “I’m good, thanks.” It was a poor attempt at declining, and he knew that Alastor would still likely drag him along either way. Alastor merely laughs, shaking his head. “Nonsense! I already told Rosie that you would be accompanying me!”

“Rosie?” Vox echoed, squinting at Alastor. The radio demon smiles back at him, which unnerves him. “Would you stop doing that?” He mutters. Alastor still doesn’t respond, but he does raise an eyebrow. Vox groans, gesturing a hand towards him vaguely. “The… smiling shit! When I ask a question, you just stand there and smile at me. It pisses me off!”

And Alastor just continues to smile.

Vox heaves out a scoff. “Asshole.”

“Dimwit.”

A moment of silence.

And then Alastor continues to walk, heading towards the hotel doors without so much as sparing a glance back at Vox. For a moment, Vox almost considers that Alastor has given up. But then there’s a pressure on his back, and suddenly, he is being pushed across the lobby by an all too familiar shadow. When he fixes Alastor with an irritated eye twitch, the radio demon just sighs wistfully. “It tends to have a mind of its own at times, old friend. Try not to be so sour.” It may not come off as a jab, but Vox knows Alastor well enough to know that it is one. He bites back the scathing retort on his tongue, counts his losses, and ultimately decides to give up. Whatever Alastor was dragging him along for was probably better than anything planned at the hotel.

Vox flinches at the bite of cold air that rushes to envelope him as the pair walk out. Unfortunately, cannibal town is on the opposite side of Pentagram City. And with the twinge in his ankle still present, he feels inclined to speak up. “Hey, are we walking the whole way there?” They aren’t off the hotel’s property just yet, so now seems like a good time to ask. Alastor’s head snaps back to look at him once more, and he lets out an obnoxiously loud laugh. “You didn’t think I’d make you walk in your condition, did you? You think so low of me, Vox! Where are my manners…”

The cheery behavior is all an act, and an annoying one at that. But at least the fact that he isn’t making him walk the entire way there is sincere. Though, judging by the gleeful look on his face, Vox isn’t going to like this. His suspicions are only confirmed as Alastor’s form starts to discorporate, melting into shadows whilst slowly dragging him down with him. The memory was fuzzy, but he remembered a time in the past when they had still been… friends. It was far away, but he knew that Alastor had pulled him along for this one time. The reason it had been a one time thing was because Vox had crashed so spectacularly that Pentagram city had lost power for more than just a day. But he had been hooked up to the system when that happened. Still, it didn’t stop him from shouting out a cut off string of curses.

The next thing he knew, he was laying face up on the ground staring up at Alastor as snowflakes drifted down onto him. “Are you still with me, fine fellow?” Alastor chirped, something uncannily similar to amusement flashing in his eyes. Vox felt his screen flicker to static for a moment. All he could offer was a garbled, tired mumble as he pushed himself upright off the ground. It took a moment of struggle, and Alastor notably didn’t offer his staff out to him this time. A small bit of that stung, but it was quickly forgotten. They were outside of Rosie’s residence.

“Now, you remember our fine friend Rosie, don’t you?” Alastor turned to look back at Vox, readjusting his suit. Vox rolled his eyes. “Yes. The overlord we see at overlord meetings. How ever could I forget?” He rapped his knuckles against his frame, as if referencing the fact that he had an installed storage system. Whether or not Alastor would get that reference, he would still understand what Vox was getting at. There was a brief pause, as if Alastor was considering how to respond, before he simply turned to the door and pushed it open. With a dramatic first step inside, he threw out an arm and called out. “Rosie, dear! I’m here! And I brought an old friend!”

Said overlord appeared quickly, shuffling down some stairs. The two sightless holes in her face looked at the other time, and a fanged smile formed on her lips. “Alastor! Vox! My, I haven’t seen you two together since your little spat!” She cooed, flicking her wrist in their direction with a little chuckle. “Did you dearies make up?”

Alastor barked out a laugh. Vox didn’t offer a response.

Rosie sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, you two…adorable!” The crackle of radio interference peaked from Alastor, and Vox felt his screen flicker to static for just a moment. It’d been awhile, but he remembered Alastor dragging him here on special occasions to meet and chat with Rosie. She had been oddly hospitable whenever he visited, and Alastor spoke of her highly to him. He was curious as to why Alastor had decided to bring him over once again, but the question could wait.

Rosie beckoned the two to follow, laughing softly. “Oh, where are my manners! Let’s go upstairs and have a drink!” She looked back at Vox with a wink, pointing in his direction. “I got some special treats for you since I know you aren’t a fan of the stuff we got!” She noted before vanishing back up the stairs, leaving Alastor and Vox to linger for a moment. Eventually, the radio demon began to walk, and Vox followed. It wasn’t like there was anywhere else to go, and he sure as hell wasn’t walking across the entire city to get back to the hotel.

The moment the two meet Rosie in one of the rooms upstairs, Vox is hit with a familiar smell. It’s sweet and candy-like. It reminds him of those tins you would see full of candy, but there’s something a bit off about it. Obviously it’s cannibal town, so he doesn’t need to take any guesses as to why the smell is off in the slightest. “Take a seat, take a seat!” Rosie ushered the two forward towards a table. “I’ll go fetch those treats!”

And once again, it is just Alastor and Vox.

“Why did you drag me along here?” Vox finally mumbled. Alastor didn’t spare him so much as a glance. “Can we not visit an old friend together?” He mused. Vox scoffed at that, tapping a claw on the table cloth. “You and I both know that we can’t just do that anymore.” Not after our spat, as she referred to it. Still, Alastor doesn’t look at him. He opts to smile, staring at where Rosie had vanished off to. It doesn’t take long for her to reappear and quickly begin pouring drinks and setting out treats. Where she has an assortment of candied fingers for her and Alastor, there’s a small tin of hard candies for Vox to chew on.

“So!” Rosie finally speaks as Vox reaches forward to grab one of the candies, popping it into his mouth. “Why the visit? Don’t tell me you two got into another spat…” She teased, waving her fingers at the two. Vox didn’t respond, scowling at Alastor. If he had to be dragged here unwillingly, then he wasn’t going to answer the question. Luckily, Alastor didn’t seem bothered by this. “Why, I haven’t seen you in a good while! And Vox here needed a bit of fresh air… I was simply killing two birds with one stone."

“Oh, so he’s been staying over at your hotel?” Rosie hummed, glancing at Vox for a brief moment. She was clearly expecting him to answer, but when he did not, Alastor took over. “Yes he is. Our dear friend here is currently under our care.” There’s no further explanation. Vox feels the hardened scowl on his face falter (possibly soften) in the slightest. He takes another candy, popping it into his mouth to continue to chew.

“Well, it seems like the perfect opportunity for you two to do some talking.” Rosie waves her fingers between the two, fluttering her eyes. “Really! I mean, this petty little quarrel has gone on long enough.” She purrs out, voice light-hearted and teasing. Vox looks over at Alastor through half-lidded eyes, still chewing on the candy he had popped into his mouth. Alastor isn’t looking back at him, but his smile is a fraction smaller than it was a moment ago. The other overlord must recognize the sudden shift, as she heaves a gentle sigh and shakes her head. “I don’t mean to push, dearies, but I do wish you two would make up.”

No one speaks up again. Vox takes yet another candy. He might have a sweet tooth.

“Well then! Why don’t we discuss something else?” Alastor is the one to break the silence. He leaned one elbow on the table, propping his head up in his hand as he looked at Rosie. “How have things been in your fine town since the attack?” At which, she immediately perks up. “Oh! Well, things have been going swell here! Oh, I tell you, they just adored that little get together! Absolutely adored it!” She laughs, her fingers hovering near her neck. “How has your little hotel been doing since?”

Alastor hums softly, waving his free hand in a so-so motion. “It is in much better standing now, I assure you. The remodel has improved it greatly.” He explains. The two share a laugh shortly after, at which Vox rolls his eyes. He doesn’t intend on talking, so he might as well mess around with his systems some more.

Device Manager

Properties

Details

Most of the details seemed like nothing out of the ordinary. The operating system version, the processor type and speed, how much RAM there was, the system type, and the name of the device (which happened to be Vox.exe). He skimmed through the different sections, sifting through the graphics system, imaging device, and a few more categories. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary, which seemed a bit odd considering his system diagnostic had revealed a hardware issue. There was nothing showing up there. Maybe he could run his own troubleshooter to investigate.

Start

Settings

Update & Security

Troubleshoot

Run

A loading disc appeared in his vision. He tapped his claws fingers against his arms as he slouched down in the chair he was sitting in, letting his “chin” (or whatever he’d call the bottom of his screen) reach his collar bone. He could hear his fans whirring softly. At least this didn’t seem to be taking up a lot of energy.

The troubleshooter finished running shortly, and, once again, nothing displayed. His claws stopped tapping on his arms as he blinked the pop up away, staring up tiredly between the two. Now that he had settled down since waking up, he felt as though he was beginning to feel the effects from the bottle from last night. The position he was in was somewhat hurting his ribs, but it was a distant enough pain for him to ignore it.

He blinked once slowly as he looked between the two. He had tuned out most of what they were saying, not truly interested in whatever they were talking about. They were both smiling and laughing, though. Maybe they were reminiscing about some past time? He could’ve just tuned in to pick up on what they were saying, but he didn’t have the energy for that. He drew in a slow breath before exhaling it carefully, as if not wanting to be too loud.

SHTDN_REASON_MINOR_HOTFIX

He blinked, briefly raising his head before letting it rest back down on his collar bone. That was just a minor shut down. It was just a software update (so maybe his systems were fixing themselves?), but that would mean a shut down. He let out a little huff, closing his eyes as he waited.

Not a moment had passed before he was blinking back to awareness, albeit still groggy. Not much time had passed, seeing as it was just a small fix. It didn’t require a ton of system effort, but he did notice that his fans had sped up in the slightest. Which… wasn’t necessarily normal. A small shutdown like that didn’t require that much energy. Unless safe mode was making it take more energy due to there being a limit on what his systems could do. He could feel a faint buzz starting to form between his antennas, but it was suddenly diminished by something. He felt himself jolt in the slightest before relaxing back down into the chair.

A small part of him realizes that letting his guard down this much is stupid, but there’s a sudden lack of energy that he can’t quite hide. His screen has dimmed and there seems to be some difficulty from his fans.

”Are you seriously falling asleep on me?

Vox looks up from where he is sitting at the desk, blinking one eye at a time. His vision is blurry, and it takes a moment to refocus his vision. Valentino is in front of his desk, one pair of his arms crossed while the other has one hand holding his cigarette and the other propped up on the desk. The media overlord heaves out a sigh, rubbing at his screen with a small hum. “Sorry, Val. I’ve been stuck doing this paperwork for awhile.

”Then take a break and focus on me.

”You know I can’t do that.” Vox offers with another tired sigh, tilting his head at Valentino. The moth demon takes a drag of the cigarette, blowing it into his face with a scowl. Vox coughs a little, swatting the smoke away. “I gotta get this done so we can air your stuff, yeah?” He tries again. It almost sounds like he’s trying to negotiate with him.

”It can wait.” Valentino simply growls out, flicking the cigarette to the side with a huff. Vox glances over towards when it is discarded for a moment before swiveling his head back to look at Valentino. “If I don’t get these done by tonight, then no, it can’t.” He explains, tapping at the papers on his desk with a claw that sends sparks of electricity. Valentino bites out a growl, slamming two of his hands onto the table with a hiss. “You can make it go out.”

Vox doesn’t move at that. After a moment, he leans back away from the desk and seems to throw his hands up. “I can’t get anything done if you keep interrupting my work.” He growls, the sound of static buzzing around in the air. Valentino bristles at that, his wings unfurling behind him as he points an accusing finger at Vox. “You know damn well you can!” He barks back.

”Then don’t get pissy at me when your stuff doesn’t get put out!” Vox points a finger back at him. Valentino throws his hands up, stepping back and feigning offense. “You don’t do anything aside from me but work! You’ve been working enough.” He shakes his head, upturning his face in a disdainful way. “You’re neglecting me.”

”Me? Neglecting you? Comedy.” Vox snorts, shaking his head as he turns to look away from Valentino. There’s a sudden slam and the camera whips back around. Valentino has all four hands slammed down onto the table now, his wings still fully expanded behind him. “You know damn well what you’re doing you little shit!” He seethes, teeth bared in a snarl. Vox stands up as well, slamming his hands down as well. “I think you need to leave.” It’s simple. A short little demand. Valentino gapes at that. “Are you serious?!”

”Out.” Vox demands, pointing one of his hands towards the door behind him. For a few moments, it seems like Valentino is ready to jump across the table and strangle him. But then he stops, drops his arms, and turns away with a huff. His wings swiped over the table, throwing any loose papers off to the side with a rush of wind before he stormed out of the room. Vox waits a moment or two after he leaves before slumping back down in the chair, looking up at the ceiling with a groan.

It only takes a few seconds before strings of messages start pouring in through his notifications, all sent from Valentino.

”You know I didn’t mean it”

”I can make it up to you xoxo”

”I just can’t believe you’d pull this shit”

”I’m sorry for snapping at you”

Vox decidedly mutes the notifications, blinking slowly up at the ceiling. “Another fuckin’ day.” He mumbles out quietly to himself, screen fuzzing with some static.

And static is what brings Vox back into awareness.

He blinks blearily, wincing against the ache in his ribs and neck. He can still hear tuned out talking, though it seems to stutter for a moment before continuing. There’s a mood shift somewhere between that stutter, but he isn’t full in it enough to take notice. He waits a few seconds more tilting his head back up and away from his collar bone, letting out a strained noise as he tunes back in.

“Oh! Poor thing! Alastor must be tiring you out.” That’s Rosie talking. That same motherly, caring tone is back. Vox offers a vague noise, having tilted his head back up to stare at the ceiling. “Would you care for something to drink? I’ve got some cannibal free juice!” She offers excitedly. At that, Vox looks straight ahead and pushes himself upright with a small grunt. “I.. appreciate… the offer, but I’m good.” He dismisses her with a tentative nod. Thankfully, she doesn’t take any offense. He notices Alastor’s lips curl in the slightest before his expression slips back into that relaxed smile. He suddenly starts up, standing up. “Well, I do believe we have overstayed our welcome!”

Rosie blinks, surprised. “Oh! Well… I suppose it has been a few hours.” She muses, cupping her face with one of her palms. “Do make sure you visit again soon! I miss these little meet ups.” She claps her hands a little, standing up as well. Seeing as the only other two people at the table are standing up, Vox decides to stand up as well (though he doesn’t hide the pained wince very well). He turns to Rosie, offering her a “business-professional” smile. “Thank you for hosting us.”

“Oh, dearie, you flatter me!” Rosie laughs, shaking her head. “It’s not a problem!”

“We really must be going now!” Alastor's staff is suddenly hooked around Vox’s stomach, and he’s being pulled backwards. He stumbles awkwardly, flailing his arms for a moment before regaining balance with a scathing scowl. He’s practically ushered down the stairs, and he nearly tumbles down a few of the steps. “Hey, hey, hey! Slow your roll!” He snaps back at Alastor. Though he doesn’t get a response, he doesn’t need to get one to know that Alastor will not be “slowing his roll.”

The cold air is a sharp reminder that it is still snowing outside. He winces against the cold biting his screen, stumbling forward a few steps into the snow. While it may have been snowing all throughout the night, the general climate of hell prevented snow from piling up too much. The layer was thinnish, but still high enough to make snowballs or snowmen. He could see a few speckled along the streets.

Alastor stops walking abruptly, setting his staff down in the snow. There’s no warning this time when the two are pulled into the shadows. The transition seems much faster than last time, however. There’s no crashing this time, and Vox is standing on his feet when they reappear at the hotel. Before he can turn to question Alastor, the radio demon has melted away with the shrill sound of radio interference. Leaving Vox alone in the lobby. Well, not alone. Husk and Angel are, of course, at the bar again. Each is staring at him with curious looks. Vox shrugs in their direction.

Husk calls out to him. “The Hell were you doing with smiles?”

Vox rolls his eyes at that, slowly making his way back over to the bar. He ignores the way Angel’s expression twists between a few different emotions, instead focusing on Husk. “He grabbed me when I left my room this morning.” He explained, readjusting his suit. “And where did you two go?” Husk continued, raising an eyebrow. Vox gave him a look. “Is there any reason for all of the sudden questioning?”

The tail behind the bartender lashes a little. “Because the boss didn’t look all that happy when you came back.”

Vox snorted. “How can you tell? All he does is smile.” It comes out as a complaint. Husk gives an amused smile, shrugging. “You get to know what his smiles mean.”

“Wonderful.”

Angel cuts in. “You, uh… feelin’ good?” It’s an awkward question, as if Angel doesn’t want to ask it. It might not entirely be that, though. Part of it could be that Angel likely never thought he’d be talking this way to someone who worked with his boss. Maybe it was also that he felt unsure after the interaction from last night. A small bit of him doesn’t want to give an answer, but he feels inclined to. Vox looks over at Angel. “Feeling fine.”

It’s clear the spider demon wants to press and ask more, but he doesn’t. Vox is thankful for that.

Now that he’s somewhere to sit and think, he’s pondering. Whatever had played during the visit with Alastor and Rosie was a memory. He did remember that. He remembered Valentino being incredibly cross with him for the coming few days, and he remembered Velvette practically begging for the two to make up. And make up they did (though it probably wasn’t the healthiest way).

A small part of him felt uneasy about the fact that had played. Rosie and Alastor might’ve been able to see it, or at the very least hear it. He didn’t feel very comfortable with either outcome. He already didn’t feel comfortable with Husk and Angel having seen something on top of Alastor seeing something else as well.

“Vox! There you are!”

Great…

It’s the princess. Charlie is rapidly approaching from the stairs, skipping down steps to get to the bottom faster before practically barreling towards him. “This is perfect timing! I woke up this morning and went to get you, but I couldn’t find you! And then I couldn’t find Alastor, and I figured you two went out! And then Alastor just suddenly popped up and told me you were back, which is really good timing – did I mention this was good timing?” She pauses to suck in a breath before continuing. “I know you said you couldn’t go back to the tower, but someone came here to visit you, and I think it’s a really good idea for you two to talk and figure out what happened!”

Vox falters at that, his screen glitching for just a moment as he tilts his head ever so slightly. “Someone is… here to visit me? From the tower?” It could very well be one of his assistants, but he isn’t sure how they’d figure out he was here. Actually, he wasn’t sure how anyone would figure out that he was at the hotel. “Can I ask.. Who it is?”

Charlie smiles giddily at that, clapping her hands together. “Follow me!” She doesn’t leave him the option to deny either, unfortunately, as she wraps her hands around his and begins to tug him away. She’s considerate enough to not pull too hard or fast, but she’s still clearly in a rush and excited to some degree. Vox doesn’t share the same excitement. “Princess, I would appreciate an explanation…”

“There’s no need!” Charlie stops outside a pair of doors before swinging them open, revealing a large room with a pit in the middle. The pit is lined with a couch and some stairs with a small table in the middle. There’s a radio neatly centered on said table. It essentially looks like a bigger lounge. But the main thing he notices is the presence of a certain someone sitting on their phone on one of the couches.

“Velvette.”

Chapter Text

“Velvette.”

Vox supposes it makes sense that Velvette would show up. He supposes it makes sense that Velvette would have been able to possibly spot him on surveillance drones to figure out where he was staying. It made sense that Valentino wasn’t bursting into the hotel with guns blazing and smoke pouring off of his body as he screamed obscenities. It all made sense, and for some reason, that brought a feeling of ease to him. A feeling of ease that he hadn’t felt since he had arrived at the hotel. Yet, at the same time, it was a foreign feeling. It was crawling under his skin and through his wires. He felt uneasy.

Said overlord looked up from her phone the moment Vox spoke, her half-lidded eyes widening at him. “Well it’s about goddamn time!” With a huff, she rose from her spot on the couch. One hand went to rest on her hip while the other hand her phone, which she was still seemingly typing on. “I’ve been wondering where you ran off to after your fight!” She sounded annoyed. Vox felt a buzz of static form between his antennas as he drew in a slow, careful breath. Fight. Just a fight. Nothing more. Nothing less. A laid back smile took place on his screen as he opened his arms in a wide gesture, laughing softly. “Velvette! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“More like displeasure.” Velvette scoffs at the motion, tapping her phone screen with her thumb aggressively a few times. “We’ve got stocks plummeting because of your absence, V. I don’t know what little spat caused you to come stay at this tacky dump, but enough time has passed. You two have usually made up by now.” She rolls her eyes, popping her hip out to the left. Vox feels a small twinge of annoyance, though it’s only brief. He chuckles softly, taking slow, careful strides forward in an effort to hide any pain or strain. “I’m sure the damage isn’t that bad…”

Velvette, once again, scoffs. “We’ve already lost two brand deals, and we’re down a digit!” She complains, holding her phone out and shoving it in Vox’s face. After a moment or two of studying the numbers on the screen, he leans past the device and raises an eyebrow at Velvette. “There are still seven other digits there.” He notes in a monotone voice, unimpressed with the dramatics. Velvette rolls her eyes once more, looking back at her phone. “Val is making a mess of the place! He’s already murked two of my best models.”

Just a fight.

Vox chuckles, shaking his head softly. “Vel, I am sure that Val will get over his tantrum shortly. However, I am currently on leave.” What is he doing. What is he doing. What is he doing. It feels like the wires in his head are constricting. He can feel the vents beneath his clothes puffing out air aggressively as he slowly clasps his hands together. “I am on an… indefinite hiatus.” He clarifies, nodding. Satisfied with the statement. What is he doing? The smile remains on his face despite the internal panic. Velvette grows increasingly frustrated, and it’s clear in the way she glares icy dagger at Vox.

“Are you serious?” She hisses. “Look– I don’t know what you two got into a fight over this time, but it can not be this serious.” She gestures towards the doors to leave the room. “Go tell the fucker you’re sorry, he’ll say sorry back, and it’ll all be tied up and done!” It wasn’t just a fight. Vox lets out another gentle laugh at that, though it sounds a fraction less laid back than the previous few. “I’ll come back to the tower when I deem appropriate.” He responds curtly. It’s a firm statement. Velvette bristles.

And then the two are swiftly reminded that Charlie Morningstar is in the room, as she clears her throat and very nervously speaks up. “Should I… not be listening to this?” It’s a weak question She croaks it out with the attitude of someone who is already invested but feels as though they are in the wrong. Vox turns to look at her with an indifferent expression, but Velvette’s expression holds heat and anger behind it. It’s enough to cause the princess to turn on her heel and awkwardly march out of the room. And they are alone.

Velvette groans, flopping back down onto the couch as she raises her hands to her temples. “Seriously, Vox. What has gotten you so upset that you deem it necessary to stay here of all places?” He can’t tell her. Perfection isn’t weakness. So Vox sits down next to her, clearing his throat. “I assure you, this is only temporary. When things have finally cooled off, I’ll come back.” Will he? Will things cool off? “Okay?” It’s more of a question for himself to confirm. He doesn’t feel like accepting an answer at this point. Velvette, on the other hand, does.

“Alright.” She heaves out a defeated sigh, as if understanding that arguing with him will get her nowhere. It really won’t. With much less enthusiasm than normal, she pops back up onto her feet. “Could you at least consider doing some work? The emails are stacking up, and we’re gonna take more blows if you don’t.” A small pause. “You owe it to us.” And he does. Vox sighs, nodding his head. “I’ll see what I can do.” It isn’t a lie, but it still feels bitter on his tongue. But Velvette seems pleased.

“I’ll see you later, then.” She chirps, blowing him a kiss through the air before turning to skip out of the room. He’s sure that once she gets to the lobby, that skip turns into a moody strut. He doesn’t follow to see if that’s the case. He lingers in this bigger lounge, something hollow burrowing deep inside his chest. Behind him, the radio hums with quiet interference. For some reason, he feels like someone else is listening. He can’t bring himself to care. Velvette doesn’t know what happened. And that is all that matters. She doesn’t know, and he isn’t sure she ever will.

He’s alone in the room for a few minutes. He doesn’t leave. He’s still ruminating. Velvette doesn’t know. There’s a sour taste in his mouth. She wasn’t aware. Either she simply hadn’t been around to see the aftermath of whatever happened, or she had been told something else. Maybe a combination of both. Vox doesn’t want to think about it for too long. The smile he had plastered on his face slowly drops off as he eventually heaves a sigh, tugging at his tie walking out of the room. Charlie is waiting outside, teetering in place on her heels. Upon seeing him, she perks up.

“So…?”

Vox doesn’t respond at first. Eventually, however, he turns to her with that business persona smile. “Would I be able to have some electronics delivered to my room?” A small request, surely. Charlie smiles at him and laughs. “Oh, we don’t need to deliver them! You can… change your room to your desire!” She offers with a shrug. Vox blanks at that, his smile twitching as he tilts his head to the side. Seeing the confusion, Charlie continues. “The rooms can be made more accommodating to whoever is staying in them. It’s sort of just a… stand there and will it into existence thing!” She offers. “Alastor’s room doesn’t even look like a room!”

Vox notes that last comment somewhere in the back of his mind. “Wonderful!” He chirps, a small buzzer sound playing through his speakers. It’s a celebratory one. Charlie’s eyes seem to light up at that, as if she hadn’t known he could do that. There was a chance she didn’t, or maybe she just thought it was neat. But that had been enough for the day. In fact, he figured that he had had enough social interactions for the last few days for a while. He offered the princess a small wave as he turned on his heels, tracking towards his room. It was time for some upgrades.

Vox only gets a knock on the door when the next day is already half way gone.

After the conversion with Charlie, he had quietly changed aspects of his room. It had been as easy as the princess implied. While it was nowhere near as fancy as his tower, it was still better and more “homey” than before. There was a small wall of screens on one side of the room that he had dedicated to his work. As Velvette had said, emails were piling up. While she had definitely overexaggerated the extent of them “suffering,” there was still damage control to be done. A few quick emails and some free merchandise (some faulty pieces here and there) made it all better in the end.

He’s typing something away on one of the computers when he finally notices the knock. The email isn’t anything important (something about missing an interview that he couldn’t care to write down). Doing work is a good distraction, though. It keeps his mind off of things, and Vox is glad that Charlie finally mentioned the ability to warp the rooms. Maybe it’s also the change in scenery that brings him some comfort, too. Something about it being like his room at the tower brings him a sense of normalcy. He tries not to linger on the thoughts too much.

The knock sounds again, and he twists to look towards the door with a small hum. In the few days he has been staying at the hotel, he’s begun to learn which knock belongs to who. Charlie, for example, has a very light, gentle knock, as if scared to touch the door. Husk, on the other hand, seems to ball his hand into a fist and hit the side of it against the door. The only one he has trouble discerning is Nifty’s knock, because her knock isn’t quite a knock. At first, it was. But then it turned into this quiet scrabbling that he didn’t hear until she had infiltrated the room.

The knock he is hearing right now doesn’t sound like anyone’s that he recognizes. There’s something distinct and sharp about it. It could be a visitor. Maybe Velvette was back at the hotel to talk to him more? He took a few moments to contemplate the thought, tapping his clawed fingers against the desk nervously before clearing his throat. “Who is it?” The hotel doesn’t have room service aside from Nifty, and she definitely doesn’t knock like that. A moment passes before the knock sounds again, the distinct, sharp sound cracking against the wood. It’s almost formal, but Vox isn’t sure how the sound of knocking on wood can be formal.

He doesn’t get up from where he is sitting, contemplating the possibilities. He’s comfortable where he is, and he, quite frankly, isn’t up for any social hours at the time being. He’s used to the sterile, sleek environment that he has crafted his room into. But whoever is at the door doesn’t let up, as the sharp sound of knuckles cracking against wood sounds yet again. No voice has staked claim over the sound, yet. With a low growl that echoes with reverb, a cable lurches out from his back (something he recently regained the ability to control) and wraps itself around the handle before pulling the door open.

“Do you always take so long to answer the door?” Alastor is the bright-toned individual who stands in the open frame, sharpened teeth gleaming at Vox. The media demon retracts the cable, blinking slowly at Alastor. “What do you need? I’m kinda in the middle of something.” He motions to the wall of screens mounted on display, bobbing his head in the direction. Alastor gives a sniff, carefully walking into the room as if not wanting to dirty his clothes. He stops near Vox, leaning forwards towards the screens with an almost curious expression. And then, with a zap, they all shutter and flicker off.

“Hey!” Vox snaps, snapping upright and pressing his keyboard a few times. Alas, there is no response from the system. It is thoroughly shut down, and Alastor wears the pleased, satisfied smile to let Vox know he did it. “There! We can’t have any distractions, now, can we.” Without turning on his heel, Alastor looks to Vox. There’s an almost unimpressed look on his face. Behind the smug expression from what he just did, there’s something deeply unsatisfied lurking under all that. Vox decides to pin it on the fact that he’s in a room writhing with technology.

“May I ask what was so important that you felt the need to do that?” He can’t help but think of all the annoyed emails he has yet to respond to, and how Velvette will be on his ass if he doesn't. The mere thought of it makes him slouch back into his chair, sliding downwards until his knees are nearly knocking against Alastor’s. The radio demon takes a small step back, leaning forward and down so that he is eye level with the television. “I am taking my compatriots out for an evening of splendor and treats! Charlie insists I bring you along.”

“Tell her I declined the offer.” Vox pushes himself back upright, using his arms to press against the armrests on the chair to do so.

Alastor’s smile twitches a smidge. “I’m afraid I already attempted to deter that very notion, but she insists.” He sighs wistfully, waving his clawed hand through the air in some sort of dramatic reenactment. Vox quirks an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Who is included in your fellow compatriots?” A small question that may sway his mood. Vox, quite frankly, doesn’t want to spend the night lounging around. As much as he might complain about work, it gives him drive and motivation. There’s something invigorating about getting it done. Maybe there’s something wrong with him for thinking that way. Or, better yet, maybe there’s a system malfunction. Speaking of the devil, he taps a claw against the frame of his screen. “Still recovering.” He adds unhelpfully.

Interference squeaks through the static of Alastor’s voice, a clear sign of annoyance. “As much as I do not want to bring you along, it seems I have no other choice.” He drawls out, as if scripted. “Nifty, Husker, and Angel will join us.” An answer to his question. He doesn’t mind the list. So he feigns consideration before sighing and standing up, pushing the chair away. “Fine by me.” He shrugs, rolling his neck and wrists. He hadn’t noticed the ache from sitting, but now that he was standing, it was there. Most of the pain from his injuries had dulled and faded quickly. It seemed that a majority of his minor abilities had returned, which had left him feeling pleased and in a particularly good mood.

“Splendid.” Alastor’s tone lacks the usual faux optimism that usually poisons it. Vox decides not to comment on it, rather allowing himself to follow Alastor as the pair begin to head down to the lobby. He suddenly feels the need to ask a question. “Is there a specific place we’re going?” He huffs out, self consciously adjusting his bowtie. Alastor does not give him an answer, though his ear twitches in the slightest. Ignoring, then. He decides to let Alastor’s silence speak on its own. Upon arriving at the lobby, the pair are met with the other three. No one is dressed up, which helps quell Vox’s fear that he is underdressed.

Alastor smiles eagerly at the group. “We’ll be on our way then!”

Vox is beginning to think that the shadow travel schtick isn’t that bad. They’re enveloped in darkness and spit back out in what feels like the same second. There’s no dizziness or panicked glitching that follows, though the dizziness and blurring of his vision is still retained. He recovers quickly this time, shaking his head and adjusting his hat carefully. When he finally looks up, he notices that they have been dumped outside of a bar that is sitting between what looks like two crumbling buildings. There is a faint neon sign flickering faintly overhead in the cold air, reading ”The Inferno Lounge.”

It’s not a name that he’s familiar with, but it doesn’t look all that bad. The faint smell of cigarette smoke lingers outside, which gives him a general feeling of what this place will be like. Just from looking at it, he can see the windows are fogged from condensation on the inside and frost on the outside. There’s the faint hum of jazz piano buzzing from inside, followed by muted laughter. All he can smell is cheap gin and engine oil. Nifty takes no time at all to scurry forward, her legs moving in a blur as Husk and Angel trail after. Alastor lingers a moment before taking the lead, and Vox feels enticed to trail after him.

The inside is much dimmer than expected. It’s golden in hue and buzzing with life. The air is notably thick, tainted with the smell of tobacco, whiskey, perfume, and sweat. Almost everything seems as if it is burnished with brass railings, which gleams faintly under the low amber glow of light bulbs. There’s a bar running the length of one wall, lined with plush red stools. Said wall contains rows of bottles that glow like stained glass. The bartender seems to be any other sinner, though upon seeing Alastor, he immediately begins to move and grab some of the said bottles. It’s a practiced dance, then.

Vox finds himself looking around as the group all make their way towards the stools, which are surprisingly empty. The bar itself is surprisingly empty, now that he thinks about it. There are a few sinners here and there, but not nearly as much as he would expect for such a neat place. There’s a small jazz trio playing in one of the corners: one an upright bass, one a trumpet, and the other a gravel-voiced singer that rumbles softly into an old chrome microphone. While no one seems to be directly listening, it seems to punctuate each laugh or clinks of glasses.

At the center of the room, most notably to him, there’s a small circular dance floor. It’s ringed with velvet booths, though no one is currently there. It’s not a big bar, no, but it’s cozy. Not cramped. The tables are small and intimate, each decorated with flickering candles. It’s all a bunch of deep reds, golds, and browns with accents of gray and brass. It’s somewhat familiar to him. It almost reminds him of a speakeasy, in a way. He makes sure to make a mental note of this place as he sits down on one of the stools, Alastor on his left with Husk on his left. Angel is sat next to Husk, and Nifty is sat next to him (or standing, seeing as the stool is too short for her).

A moment later, three drinks are being dished out to Alastor, Husk, and Nifty. Vox makes another mental note that they must frequent this bar.

It takes a moment, but Angel eventually chirps out an order, leaving just Vox. He blinks dumbly at the bartender, a lizard themed sinner who is eyeing him. “Ah… sidecar.” He finally manages, and the bartender turns to make said drinks. Vox takes the time to look at what the other three ordered. Husk’s drink is in a short glass with one big cube of ice in the middle. The drink is amber in color, and it’s topped with a cherry. Nifty’s drink, on the other hand, is served in a coupe glass. It’s a bright yellow liquid garnished with a lemon wheel.

Alastor’s drink is the one he recognizes. It’s in a short glass, just like Husk’s, but there is no ice. It’s amber in color with no oily sheen on top. A sazerac, he notes distantly. He hasn’t changed. It’s a faraway thought that pops up, and he shakes it away before he can linger on it for too long. Eventually, Angel is given his drink, and then so is Vox. Angel’s is served in a coupe glass, just like Nifty’s. It’s pink in color and crowned with a cherry. A simple drink. Vox’s in an amber colored drink set in a coupe as well with a thin layer of sugar tracing the rim. It’s refined.

“So…” Vox finds himself speaking, looking over at Alastor nervously. “How did you find out about this place?”

Alastor doesn’t look at him, but he does give an answer. “When I arrived here, Rosie showed me this place.” He brings the glass to his lips, taking a careful, dignified sip. When he speaks again, his voice takes a somewhat light tone. “I quite enjoy it, you see. Not many sinners know of it, and the service here is splendid.” Vox nods, bringing the glass to his mouth carefully. The taste is sharp at first, searing his tongue with a sharp lemon flavor. It soon softens, however, followed by an orange, sweetness. It’s sweet and sour. Perfect. As much as he hates it, he has to agree with Alastor. This bar seems nice.

Alastor turns to look at him, tilting his head. “What of you? Do you have any favorites?”

Vox taps his claws against his glass thoughtfully, tilting his head back-and-forth in a so-so motion. “Vel and Val like this one place… super uptight. But it’s got strippers, so of course Val likes it.” He almost says it distastefully. He never cared too much for those places. They were loud and overloaded his auditory systems. He notices Alastor seems to share the same disgruntlement before continuing. “There… is this one place.” He leaves it at that, but Alastor waves a hand for him to continue.

“It’s called The Starlite Lounge.” He takes another quick sip of his drink. “It’s got this neat jukebox near the door. It’s a bit more… more energetic than this place.” He gestures to the floor. “The floors are checked,” and then to the lights, “and they have these neon lights. The jukebox has a bunch of new stuff, but it usually plays old rock ‘n’ roll, some jazz, and blues.” He turns to swing his arm towards the dance floor, where Nifty has dragged Husk. “It’s got a bigger dance floor than this place. It’s got this… optimism to it, y’know?”

Alastor hums as Vox turns to look back at him. “You still speak so dreamily of that place.” It’s a simple note. Vox stutters at that, his screen flashing with static for a moment. “What do you mean?” He presses, but gets no answer. Alastor has turned back to his drink, his eyes studying the wall of bottles that reflect colors across the ceiling. Vox glances back to the dance floor, making a face. “Is he drunk?”

He can tell Alastor doesn’t look when he responds. “I’m afraid not. Husk has grown a tolerance to drinking in his years.” He laughs. “Nifty, on the other hand… She can be a handful.” It’s said in an oddly endearing way. Vox feels his skin crawl at the tone. He doesn't know if it’s in a good way or bad way.

Angel cuts in. “I hope she won’t mind me stealin’ whiskers from here later.”

Vox looks back to his drink, cupping it carefully in his hands. He lets the chilled glass burn icily at his skin. It’s a welcome feeling, despite the chill outside. He brings the glass up once more to finish it before setting it down, wiping a claw along the edge to gather some of the remaining sugar. “Are we paying for ourselves?” He might as well ask. It’s mostly a habit. Whenever he would go out with Vel and Val, usually he would pay. On rare occasions, they would pay their own tabs themselves. He can’t expect to be paid for.

Alastor flaps a hand dismissively in his direction. “Drink as you please, picture box. This is a night out.” Huh. Vox doesn’t say anything, but it feels odd. Nonetheless, he turns back to the bartender to order what Alastor had gotten. It’s been awhile since he had one, and he can’t quite remember if he enjoyed the taste or not. Alastor makes a noise at that. “Must you copy everything I do?” He jabs. Vox scoffs at that, grabbing the short glass that is slid his way. “It’s not copying you if I want to try it myself.”

An unconvinced sound comes from the radio demon. Vox ignores it, taking the glass to his mouth. There’s a sharp smell, but it’s complex. The most he can make out is lemon and licorice. He’s immediately hit with a strong, dry whiskey taste, at which he nearly chokes. He manages past the surprise, however, chasing after the sugary softness that follows. It’s not something he would go out of his way to get, but it’s not terrible. It’s not sweet or sour. Somehow, it tastes old. He decides to finish it quickly, setting the empty glass down with a sharp exhale somewhere near a grunt and a cough.

Alastor laughs quietly next to him. “Not a fan?”

Vox coughs again, shaking his head. “No, no… Just unexpected.” He croaks out, clearing his throat as he gently bumps a fist against his chest. There is no other comment from Alastor. The two lapse into a comfortable silence (for once). A few sinners come and go as time passes. No one comes up to bother them. Normally, sinners would be gawking at the sights of two overlords sharing a drink together. Not out of shock, but more so out of fear. There was none of that here, and Vox was enjoying himself because of it.

He finds himself having fun. Between watching Nifty on the dancefloor and eventually Angel and Husk, it’s nice and calm. Though he and Alastor don’t get up from their seats, they don’t spend much time talking. A small conversation starts here and there, but the two seem intent on people watching. It’s comfortable. It’s cozy. And Vox doesn’t mind the simplicity of it, which is odd. Usually he tends towards the extravagant and complex, but he finds himself just fine with simple and bland.

He’s snapped out of his daze when Alastor suddenly stands. His vision is fuzzed in the slightest, a very, very thin layer of static laying over everything he sees. There’s a buzz throughout his body, and he knows it isn’t just because of his powers. His chest is warm, and his eyes feel just as warm. He isn’t expecting much, but then red claws carefully wrap around his wrist and give him a firm, guiding tug. Vox follows, awkwardly stumbling off the stool to follow Alastor towards the small circular shape in the middle of the room. He’s uncoordinated, but Alastor seems to be doing just fine. He finds himself asking a question in a slightly glitched voice. “What arrrrrre we doing?”

Alastor stops and turns to face him, and Vox is suddenly aware of the slow pace in the band’s music. The trumpet’s hum lows and the upright bass throbs like a heartbeat. The singer croons something into the microphone, voice trembling with something he can discern. The air suddenly seems thick with smoke, and Vox is close with Alastor. But then he is drawn closer, a hand sliding to his lower back to guide without pressure. Another hand guides him, carefully setting them on Alastor’s shoulders. And then, soundlessly, they are moving.

The steps are small and measured. There’s no flashiness to them. It’s a simple, quiet sway where they rock side-to-side, turning to follow the curve of the music. There’s more of a buzz throughout his body now. He finds it centering between his antennas, gathering enough energy to where a bolt of electricity dances back-and-forth between each strand. Alastor doesn’t say anything, but the loose smile on his face tells Vox that he is likely inebriated. He is too. He doesn’t say anything. Without words, Alastor leads him with an odd gentleness.

He’s warm, and it isn’t just from the alcohol. Each note from the small band is slower. They seem to linger heavily in the air, dragging the two through each step. He finds his claws brushing against the nape of Alastor’s neck, but the radio demon doesn’t respond. It’s only now that he notices they are the only two on the dance floor. He stumbles a moment, but Alastor pulls him right back into motion without a struggle. Vox can feel the other’s thumb rubbing a circle into his back. He feels alert and aware of everything just as much as everything is foggy and fuzzy.

And then Alastor’s leans forward for just a moment, an airy laugh trickling past his lips as his forehead comes to rest on Vox’s shoulder. The bass is throbbing a long, drawn out note. They are still where they are, as if acknowledging the moment. And then Alastor’s head pops back up and the music continues just as they do. It’s a delicate motion, and it’s so smooth it almost feels choreographed. For a dizzying moment, Vox thinks his legs are going to give out beneath him. And then one final note fades.

Alastor stops and Vox stops as well, mostly because he is following what he does.

A sharp sound catches his attention, and both overlords swivel their heads to see Angel with fingers in his mouth whistling at the two. Another pair of arms is clapping, an overly eager smile plastered over his face. Husk is sat next to him, clapping with much less enthusiasm but still sharing a smile that Vox can’t quite read. Angel lets out a loud cackle, clapping with both pairs of hands now. “Hah! Who knew either of you could dance! And drunk, nonetheless!” It’s a tease, and Vox is suddenly more aware of the eyes on the pair.

He pulls away from Alastor a bit too fast. With the radio demon’s hand still on his back, Alastor is pulled after him. There’s a small, frantic scuffle that follows as Vox tilts backwards, bringing Alastor down with him before they go crashing onto the ground. They land in an ungraceful heap of limbs, Alastor on top of Vox as the chugging of said media demon’s fans becomes a lot more audible. Out of the corner of his vision, he notices Angel and Husk waltzing over (Angel carrying Nifty in one set of arms) to help the two up.

Husk heaves Alastor up with a small grunt, hardly touching the taller figure as he steadies him. Angel offers a hand out to him, pulling him up off of the floor that suddenly seems to move under his feet. He feels unsteady. For a moment, he’s afraid something happened. But then the soft hum of the trio's music from the corner begins to drift through the air once more, changing the static atmosphere to a more dynamic one. He can hear the two coherent sinners talking amongst themselves, and he can’t help but follow the mindless tug that he’s given. A part of him is still far away and distant. A part of him still lingers on that dance floor.

The bite of icy cold against his screen snaps him back to awareness for just a moment. Everything sharpens, and the static layer over his vision fades for just a moment. For just a moment, he watches as Husk awkwardly tucks Alastor into the back of what looks to be a car summoned for pick up. The same laid back smile is plastered on the radio demon’s face. The same smile he gave everyone, but it's different from the dance floor somehow. His chest burns and everything becomes sluggish again as Angel carefully guides him off the curb to the other side of the vehicle.

It’s snowing again. He only notices it when the static overtaking his vision begins to move. A small part of him wishes he could stay outside in the snow for just a bit. But the ache in his body is returning, albeit dulled by the buzz of alcohol. The back of the car is warm. It’s stuffy. It’s cramped and uncomfortable. Alastor is humming some tune that the band played earlier in the night, smiling straight ahead as he looks out the front window. Vox feels his claws dig into the leather beneath him, ripping jagged lines into it with ease.

Alastor’s ear twitches once as he casts a quick glance towards the tear. “You’ll be paying the hotel for repairs.” It’s a simple, coherent comment. Coherent. There’s not a bit of slur to his voice. Not an ounce of it. He feels dizzier. Vox releases his grip on the seats, gingerly setting his claws on his lap as he stares down. Alastor goes back to humming, but it’s more distant and uneven than before. It’s like he’s slurring his hum, somehow. Static is crawling all over his skin. He’s uncomfortable. And then a hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and he looks back up to Alastor.

“Your company was… appreciated.” There’s a bit more struggle to his words, all of the sudden. It’s not as coherent as before. It’s tragically put together, as if stumbling over each letter. Vox feels dizzy. He feels unsteady. But he can’t fight back the child-like smile that overtakes his face. The static overlay on his vision has strengthened. “You d-dance like an olllllllllld timey p-prick.” He jests, to which Alastor lets out a soft, cooing laugh. It’s warm. It’s enveloping. He thinks he feels his screen flush with more heat.

“You are simply a charmer, dear Vox.”

And then it is quiet. The vehicle moves every now and then, but it is quiet. Smooth. Suffocating. He feels dizzy. Vox has felt dizzy. He isn’t sure of his words or steps anymore. Distantly, he feels a set of cables creep out from his back and wrap themselves around his arm. They offer some pressure. Some relief. His face is burning. He danced with Alastor. And he feels dizzy. It isn’t just the alcohol. He forces his head up, craning to look out the window and watch the snow fall outside. It’s warm inside. It’s cold outside. He feels dizzy.

The hotel is outside the window when he blinks again. The car rolls to a stop, and Vox feels the bite of cold air hit his side as Alastor’s side is opened. The radio demon removes himself from the car this time, waving Husk off with a gentle tone. Vox opens his own door after a moment of fumbling, awkwardly setting feet outside and heaving himself up. The aching is back. His ribs hurt. He’s dizzy. The snow is blurring. It looks like falling stars. He’s falling– until he isn’t. It’s a shadow that heaves him upright, having caught him by the scruff of his shirt before Angel could lurch forward to grab him. Vox feels himself blinking owlishly. The ground feels far away. He’s dizzy.

They head inside, and it’s warm. It’s big. It’s wide open. It isn’t the bar. Angel makes some comment to Husk about taking care of Nifty, but it’s lost behind the static. Vox thinks he might fall over again. Alastor is standing upright on his feet without swaying, looking ahead with the same practiced smile on his face. Husk is flanking him now, nudging Vox forward with some sort of routine care. “I’m dizzy.” He blurts out, voice glitchless and steady. Husk lets out a snort next to him. “You’re drunk.”

“I danccccced with Alastor.”

A small pause. He feels Husk staring at him. “You… did.” He confirms, as if wary. He can feel Alastor looking at him too. The voice glitches are back. He lets out a laugh halfway near manic and amused. “I’m… I’m dizzy.” He croaks out, less steady this time. He feels hands roaming the back of his head, gently inspecting. He can’t tell if they belong to Husk or Alastor. It’s Husk that speaks. “Might’ve hit your head when you fell… Sleep it off like a champ.” Like a champ. He won. An uneasy smile glitches onto his screen. “I won?” It’s a question.

Alastor finally speaks up. “Indeed.”

Vox glances up enough to watch as the other melts into a pile of shadows, which seep away with a distant buzz. He’s still dizzy. Husk makes a sympathetic sound to his side, but it isn’t that. It’s pity.

Angel is back, now. He comes over to flank Vox on his other side, and there’s a quiet rumble between the two as they speak. Vox doesn’t listen. He isn’t sure he would be able to if he tried. He’s dizzy. He’s so, so dizzy. The warmth in his chest feels like it’s burning. It feels whole and welcome. It hasn’t felt that way in a long time. He danced with Alastor. He won. It’s a puzzle that his mind finally puts together, though maybe he just forced the pieces to click. The stairs and carpet blur beneath him as he’s led back to his room. Vox stops just outside, digging his heels into the carpet to keep Husk and Angel from moving him any further. He swings his head up, looking dizzily between the two.

“Did he ssssssssssssssssseeem happy?”

It’s a weak question. Pathetic. Vox feels himself internally cringe at the sentence. He feels eyes on him, and he feels even more dizzy. His body is beginning to feel boneless. There’s too much silence for too long. And then, finally, Husk grinds out a hesitant “yeah.” Another moment before the former overlord clears his throat. “Yeah. He seemed happy, pal.” And that’s enough for Vox. He pushes off of the two carefully. Gingerly. The cables from his back help to open the door and support him against the door frame. He thinks he slurs out some sort of thank you as he stumbles in, collapsing onto his bed as the door clicks shut behind him.

Vox feels dizzy.

Vox danced with Alastor.

Alastor was happy.

He lets sleep take him.

Chapter Text

Vox wakes up with a headache.

His room is cold again, and notably brighter than expected. The window to his room is letting light pour in, bathing the walls in a pale white that makes him squint and grimace when he opens his eyes. He’s dizzy, but not as much as last night. He slept on top of his covers, it seems, which leads to the coldness in the room making him shiver in the slightest. He can faintly feel cables protruding from his back, lazily draped over some of the bed and the floor. Part of him is off the bed, now that he’s slowly coming to awareness. His knees are on the ground, and there’s a dull stabbing sensation in them. His back hurts, too, though he supposes that is to be expected since it seems he slept the entire night hunched over onto the bed.

With the grace of what can only be described as a blind deer, he slowly bends his arms and presses his palms firmly into the soft covers under him, heaving himself upright. His knees scream in protest as they bend and straighten, a heel shoving its way under his frame to push him more upright. The cables form his back as slowly retracting, winding back up and finding their place in the small divots they reside in. A quick glimpse at his internal clock tells him that it is past noon. He’s glad no one has come to get him prior, as he’s sure he looks awful.

His suspicions are confirmed as he sluggishly drags himself to the bathroom. His head is still pounding, and when he reaches a hand up to cup the back of it, he feels the slight bend in the framing around all the hardware. He lets out a quiet groan at the discovery, dimming his screen as he gazes into the mirror. Despite his screen being able to change his digital expressions to whatever he pleases, he finds digital eyebags under his eyes and a frown so downturned that Alastor might grow nauseous at the sight. Alastor.

There’s a sharp twinge of pain in his head at the thought. He brushes past it, scrubbing at his screen with the palms of his hands as he moves to get into the shower. The warm water is a nice distraction from the pain, and it does something to soothe his headache and the aching in his joints. One might worry about him getting water in his systems, but he had taken care of that by waterproofing himself once he had upgraded to newer models. The only way he was taking any serious damage was if someone pried him open and exposed his hardware to a body of water rather than a trickle.

He makes the shower quick. There’s a weakness in his legs, and he’s sure it’s due to the lack of food he’s had for the last day. After drying himself and tugging on another suit, he finally pulls open the door and steps into the hall. There’s a distinct lack of presence outside his room compared to what he has been met with for the last few days. He isn’t sure if he’s thankful for that fact or not. Nonetheless, with as much energy as he can muster, he begins to drag himself towards the lounge in the back of the hotel. Despite normally opting to go for the lobby’s lounge where people seemed to reside, he didn’t feel the energy to do such a thing today. And food could wait.

Unfortunately for him, upon entering said lounge, people are there. In fact, the entirety of the hotel staff is present. He doesn’t audibly complain, though he can hear his fans click and push more air out of his vents in a show of frustration. He’s half tempted to turn and walk away, but the princess spots him before he can make his getaway. “Vox! Good morning- er, afternoon!” She shouts, at which Vox grimaces and squints his eyes shut. The balcony that the lounge leads to is putting off an irritating amount of light.

“...Good afternoon, princess.” Vox finally grumbles, slowly making his way over to the dip in the floor where the ring of couches is. He can see Husk and Angel staring at him, smiles mixed between amused and sympathetic. On the other side across from them, Charlie and Vaggie are set up with a puzzle. He can’t see her, but Vox hears Nifty somewhere in the room. And then there’s Alastor, standing near the doorway to the balcony with his back turned to the group. There’s another twinge of pain in his head that Vox pushes back as he saunters into the pit and promptly flops back onto the ground.

He has the manners to kick his shoes off before setting his feet up on the couch, resting one arm over his chest and the other over his screen to cover his eyes. This time, he doesn’t even try to hide the groan he elicits with his next breath. Husk makes an amused sound from the other end of the circle. His fingers twitch, balling into a loose fist as he grimaces. Angel makes another amused sound, and Vox can hear Vaggie heave out a sigh. “Is there something I’m missing?” She sounds unimpressed with the two.

Husk lets out a snort. “Ever seen an overlord drink himself silly?”

Vox can’t see the interaction, but he’s sure Vaggie raises an eyebrow or gives Husk a look. Husk continues. “We went out last night, that’s all. Alastor, me, Angel, and Niff… and him.” He feels eyes shift to rest on him for just a moment. His fingers twitch. His eyes are closed and he has a face over his arm, and despite that, he still feels like it’s too bright. The noise isn’t terrible, seeing how everyone is talking in a hushed tone. Maybe the others also have headaches. He knows he does, and he, quite frankly, doesn’t want to get up and move for that fact.

Vaggie talks again, an amused tone punctuating her words. “Did anything funny happen?” It’s a simple question. Husk seems to contemplate for a moment, letting out a rumbling hum. Then, there’s a click of his tongue. “Fell and hit his head.” At the mention, there’s another dull ache of pain. Vox grimaces in the slightest, slowly bending one of his legs until one knee is folded and the other is still straightened out. The conversation seems to wait for him to stop moving before continuing. His mouth feels dry. Huh.

Vaggie starts to speak again, but Vox decides to tune her out. In fact, he tunes the entirety of the conversation out. He lets himself lay there and breath, only listening to the quiet buzz of distant voices in the background. There’s a certain carelessness to his actions now that he normally wouldn’t be able to afford. Dropping his guard like this was dangerous, and he found himself doing it far too often as of recently. It wasn’t a good habit, but right now, he could hardly protest against doing so. There’s an amount of trust to be had with people that he does this around, and he doesn’t trust these people. Well, not necessarily. He doesn’t think that they would attempt to harm him in any way (for the most part), but he also doesn’t think that they wouldn’t try other harmless jokes.

Another deep breath in and out. His fans click and turn off, leaving him with even less background noise. At this point, the conversation has turned into a form of white noise. He can feel his hand slowly loosening as tension bleeds out of his body, the knee that he had propped up knocking against the back of the couch. In the background, the white noise seems to quiet ever so slightly. There were a few dizzying moments of nothing where noise and sensation seemed to stop. And then, for the briefest moment, it felt as if something were laid over his head.

And then there was nothing.

Alastor was not a fool.

He liked to think of himself in such a way, at least. It was hardly an absurdity if you asked him. He was not one to so willingly and impulsively do certain acts, nor did he easily cave under pressure. He was cold, calculating, and cruel. He was a feared overlord in hell that had reigned terror for the past many years, gathering himself a collection of souls and amassing power overnight. It was unheard of. Unseen. And while said methods of such power gain were not public information, it was still a notable feat. He did not waste time toying with meaningless and trivial activities.

Which is why he simply could not wrap his head around the fact that he had danced with Vox.

A small part of him was rotting away at the mere thought, forming a pit in his stomach that he decidedly did not like. It was an unheard of sensation and feeling. It was discomforting, and Alastor found himself privy to enjoying comfort above all else. He was at his forefront. He was an overlord before he was a sinner. His power, reputation, and image were all that mattered to him. But as he watched the steady fall of snow outside, he couldn’t help but be irked by such a slip up. He knew that none at the bar would spread the rumor, but it had still happened. It had still been witnessed. It was humiliating.

“Alastor! Do you wanna do a puzzle?”

Alastor turned his head and only his head to gaze back over in Charlie’s direction. She was pointing excitedly at the small table she had pulled over in front of her and Vaggie, motioning to the sprawl of pieces set out in front of her. “It’ll be a team exercise!” She added on. As much as he would’ve loved to say no and ignore partaking in such a thing, he found that other… outside forces compelled him to. The smile on his face didn’t twitch one bit as he turned the rest of his body, walking over to the princess.

He stops next to her, sitting on the opposite side so as to not bother Vaggie (though it’s more so that he doesn’t want to deal with her incessant threats). “May I ask why you insist I help?” He mused out loud, carefully propping his staff up against the couch as he grabbed one of the pieces between his claws and examined it. Charlie grabbed one as well, a corner piece, and set it down. “It’s an exercise! Participating is good. Maybe you’ll get redeemed one day!” It was childish, naive hope like that that made Alastor cringe internally.

Still, he laughed as if he were a joke. “Quite the comedian you are, princess!” He set the piece down, finding nothing interesting about it before grabbing up another piece. This one was an edge piece. Admittedly, there was nothing he could tell about it just from holding it, but he was sure there were other pieces he could snap into place. His gaze briefly moved away from the puzzle, instead wandering over to a certain picture box. Alastor hadn’t turned to look when Vox had entered the room, but he had known he’d entered.

And now he was sprawled out on the couch, claws slowly loosening and growing limp over his screen. Charlie was babbling about something when he raised a careful claw to hush her, briefly gesturing to Vox before looking back down at the puzzle. Ahah! A piece! He connected the two, letting out a quiet, satisfied hum as he went to search for another edge piece that might add on. After what felt like a tense moment of hesitation, Charlie began to speak up, notably much quieter than before. “Did you have fun last night?” And oh how the question made him bristle. He didn’t show much physically, but that pit deep in his stomach twisted and churned.

“It was relaxing.” He offered, examining one piece before deciding it was not the one he was looking for. Charlie shrugged next to him, slowly working on setting up the other corner pieces of the puzzle. “Husk just–”

Alastor’s head snapped up to stare at said sinner, a silent, cold glare in his direction. Husk’s ears flattened down against his skull. “What? She asked where we were after we got back last night!” He defended, tail thumping angrily against the couch cushion. Alastor didn’t respond, though he felt his smile twitch in the slightest. Charlie immediately leapt to deescalate things, laughing obnoxiously. “He just said you had fun and danced with Vox! That’s all!” She explained. “Don’t get mad at him. Please!”

Alastor exhaled a sharp breath, looking back down at the puzzle as he carefully slid two pieces together. “If you insist.” He uttered crossly, foot tapping on the ground thoughtfully. It’d been awhile since he had done a good puzzle, and he was, surprisingly, enjoying it. Out of the corner of his vision, he even noticed his shadow peering curiously at the pieces. And then it darted away, stretching towards Vox. Alastor gave a silent tug in the direction of it. A quiet, firm “no” that was clearly ignored, as it slowly snaked its way over the back of the cushions to hover near Vox’s head.

And then it was gone, slithering away just as quickly as it had gone to hover. His attention returned to the puzzle, but he allowed himself to vaguely be aware of what his shadow had gone off to do. Only a few moments later, it returned, rearing its head over Vox with a malicious grin. Another sharp tug from Alastor went ignored. He almost snapped out audibly at it, only to falter as he watched it slowly drape a light blanket over Vox’s screen. And Alastor felt that pit in his stomach do a flip. There was a moment of blissful silence before Charlie let out a restrained, child-like squeak.

Alastor felt his shoulders tense as he focused his gaze on the puzzle at his hands, refusing to look up. He was well aware of the stares he was receiving right, and he felt the need to explain himself. “It has a mind of its own, sometimes.” He managed to bite out, clicking a few pieces together. The top right corner of the puzzle as well as the entirety of the right frame of the puzzle. Vaggie, unlike Charlie, didn’t share the same enthusiasm. “What’s with the sudden switch up? Aren’t you two, like… enemies?”

“That we are!” Alastor lets his tone lighten in the slightest, deciding that playing into this tense character is only digging himself a deeper hole. “But as I said, my shadow tends to have a mind of its own at times. Its own actions are not always tied to my own.” He explained. It was partly a truth and partly a lie. At the end of the day, the shadow was part of his powers. It was just another passive ability that he had control over. However, seeing as his powers were somewhat gifted to him in some way, it left some wiggle room for who could control the shadow. The actions of it could have been swayed by the other party. How annoying.

Vaggie doesn’t comment on the shadow anymore, instead changing the subject. “So… you two knew each other before you came back?” It’s an innocently curious question, and it simply irritates Alastor. His smile grows strained, though he’s sure no one can read the subtle shift in expression. “Unfortunately.” He grinds out, beginning to more rapidly click pieces of the puzzle together. Charlie has stopped altogether, seemingly more interested in listening to the conversation.

“What happened?”

“Hm?”

“What happened between you two?”

Ah. Alastor unintentionally freezes, his claw slowly pressing another piece into place. There’s an eerie stillness to the room. Slowly, he raises his head, tilting it ever so slightly to look towards Vaggie. “I beg your pardon?” His voice is suddenly airy, as if amused and unsure. He isn’t sure if that’s how it feels, but it’s how it sounds. Vaggie nods her head in Vox’s direction, undeterred. “What happened between you two? Or were you always at each other's throats.” How intuitive. Alastor can’t help but laugh at the question again as he adjusts his bowtie subconsciously.

“Once upon a time, we were friends. But that, my dear, is a story for another time!” It’s all he wants to give them for the time being. Vaggie’s nostrils flare as she exhales an irritated huff, but thankfully she lets up in the end. A quick glance in Husk’s direction reveals the sinner has his ears pinned downwards, an apprehensive look carved into his face. Alastor looks away before he can study the expression for too long, quietly going to put pieces of the puzzle back together. He makes a mental note to talk to his supplier about the shadow’s little act of defiance. He supposes it’s in character, but nonetheless it’s bothersome.

For the time being, he opts to silently work away at the puzzle.

Vox is laughing.

Despite the condition he is in, he’s laughing. The head on his shoulders is more bulky, and his clothes are not as refined and sleek as before. It’s some time in the past, prior to all his upgrades and changes. But he is horribly injured. Half of his screen is indented inwards with a gaping hole, leaving glass shards shattered all over the place. One eye is still working, but the other is clearly not functional. Aside from that, an arm is stuck to his chest like glue, hugging himself and applying a deadly amount of pressure. One of his ankles is bent in a way that clearly isn’t normal, and his clothes are stained in a dangerous amount of dark red.

And he’s laughing.

Alastor is in front of him, physically unchanged in appearance. They’re in a small room that he recognizes as his old apartment. It’s the living room. There’s a small door frame that leads off to the kitchen and another that leads to a hallway. The floor is carpeted, and the only pieces of furniture are a chunky couch and a long, slender coffee table made of dark spruce wood. The walls are barren, and the paint is peeling in the corners and ceilings. It’s dark, the only source of light coming from the kitchen light and the gleam of Alastor’s eyes.

And he’s laughing.

It’s a hysterical sounding laughter. It’s wrong and uneven and jumpy. When he speaks, his words glitch and stumble all over the place. “I-I ppppicked the wwwwwrong f-fight!” There’s another laugh, and despite the aching all over his body, it feels far away. He’s delirious and not fully there. He’s on the ground, soaking his carpeted floors with that ugly red. He’ll be angry about it another time, but right now, he doesn’t care. All he can do is laugh and wince and laugh. The pain is unbearable.

Alastor makes a noise above him, slowly crouching down next to him. “Did you not heed my warnings? You are not a full fledged overlord yet, dear.” It’s a starkly different tone than normal. It’s gentle, concerned, and caring all at once. His smile is less forced, but still there. Vox nods enthusiastically at him, voice breaking as his body shakes and rattles with pain and wheezes. “I thhhhought I’d beeeeeeeee fine…” He trails off, body listing to the side before Alastor snaps him back to reality by pulling him upright.

”You are bleeding all over the floors of your apartment. You are going to be quite angry after you’ve slept this off.” Alastor chides, reaching forward to pluck a loose piece of glass away from Vox’s broken screen. The media demon jolts away at the sudden contact, hissing in pain before his head suddenly sags down to his chest, body jumping with quiet giggles. “I’m so ffffffffffucked…” He whispers out before sluggishly raising his head to look back up at Alastor.

Alastor’s expression softens in the slightest. “Yes you are.” He sighs. “But that is alright. I’ll fix you back up just like I always do.”

Vox wakes to the sound of shouting.

It’s not an angry sound, but it’s a stark contrast to the scenery he was just in. He winces at the noise, slowly shifting his body. He’s laying down on his side, which is notably different from the position he was in when he fell asleep. He’s facing towards the back of the couch with his knees bent so that his heels are tucked up against his body. His arms are positioned awkwardly, the one of the bottom cushion having bent to be propped up against his shoulder, which leaves his hand dangling limply in the air. The other is being used as a temporary pillow of sorts for his head. The most interesting thing, in his opinion, is the blanket draped over his head and just his head.

He blinks a few times, trying to slowly get rid of the grogginess that is draped over his body. There is still shouting, but he’s tuned out from before he fell asleep. Without moving, he allows himself to slowly tune back into whatever is being said.

“...-_cheated!”

“Perish the thought, Husker!”

“Guys, let’s not fight–”

“He’s a liar and a cheater!”

“I’m hurt!”

There’s the sound of something scuffling before silence, followed by another gasp and another blind accusation. Vox lets himself lay there and listen for a few moments, the static overlay in his vision slowly fading away as the buzz felt behind his digital eyes fades. With a tired groan, he finally moves, carefully dragging the blanket over his head away with a defeated huff. There’s no lull in the conversation, but he does feel a few eyes on him. He’s kept his back towards the group, still facing towards the back of the couch so his face isn’t visible. The sudden burst of light is enough to make him scrunch his face up and close his eyes, though. Urgh…

He lets himself lay there for a few more moments, only deciding to move when he feels the eyes have moved off him (or maybe he dozed back off for a moment there, he feels oddly drained). There’s a slight twinge in his neck as he rolls back over, craning his head to shift his screen tiredly towards what the source of the shouting was. Everyone seems to be gathered around a board game (monopoly, maybe) with fake money grasped in their hands. He blinks again, one eye trailing after the other with a slight delay. Had his systems charged properly?

He doesn’t take the time to look into it, instead zooming his lens in on whose hand he can see. The person with their back to him is Charlie. She’s tightly holding a few of the fake dollars in her fists, shoulders hiked up to her ears as if trying to keep anyone else from seeing. There’s a clicking sound as Alastor suddenly speaks up, looking at Charlie with an amused smile. “I believe you landed on my property, princess.” He sings, tapping the board with a claw. The princess scoffs, shaking her head as he begrudgingly slides one of the pieces of faux money towards Alastor.

Vox unfocuses his gaze, readjusting his positions a bit. He opts to roll over onto his stomach, crossing one arm over the cushion to act as a pillow while he lets the other dangle over the edge of the couch. At this point, Alastor’s attention seems to catch on. “Ah! You finally decided to join us!” A few heads turned to look at him. He offers an unimpressed scowl, not speaking. The radio demon tilts his head to the side, ear twitching. “Have you finally had enough sleep?” It almost sounds accusing, but there’s some other underlying comment under that.

Vox decides to humor him with a response. “No.”

The radio interference from Alastor peaks for just a moment. “Ah. Have you considered connecting to one of your picture boxes?” He offers, slowly reaching for the money of a distracted Husk. Vox briefly glances in the direction, but he doesn’t speak up. He squints, raising an eyebrow at the idea. “Uh… no?” He hadn’t, because he usually only had to do that after expending energy in fights. A night out drinking didn’t seem to involve that. Still, it was a thought to consider. A cable slowly started to creep out from his back, snaking its way away from him. Alastor’s smile sharpens. “Still just as fragile as before.”

Vox frowns, but he doesn’t rise to the bait.

Charlie finally glances over her shoulder to look back at him. “If you need anything, you can always ask! Since you’re a guest at our hotel, we’re here to provide!” It’s an endearing offer, but it leaves a tight feeling in Vox’s chest. He waves a hand at her. “I’m… good. Thank you.” The last part comes with surprising ease. Maybe the exercises had paid off? He shoves the thought aside before he can spiral too far. He’s also distracted by Husk suddenly slamming his hands down onto the table, pointing a claw accusingly in Alastor’s face. “You fuckin’ thief!”

It isn’t much long after that before the board game is discarded on the ground with an angry tangent filling the air.

Vox eventually retracts the cable that he’s let trail away, feeling somewhat more energetic. He lets his screen brighten more, blinking away the grogginess that is still somehow lingering behind his digital eyes. He finally allows himself to sit upright, adjusting his clothing a little. It had gotten somewhat ruffled from sleeping. It’d probably need to be ironed, but he could do that later. By the time he’s finally getting up, the lounge has been practically abandoned by everyone but Alastor and Nifty.

Alastor has occupied himself with reading a book, perfectly replicating an air of carelessness as he quietly flips through the pages. Vox can’t see the cover, but he assumes it’s something boring since it’s Alastor. Nifty is peering over said demon’s shoulder, her singular pupil rapidly darting back-and-forth as she seems to read along. It feels too awkward to get up and leave, but it’s just as awkward sitting there in silence. After tapping his claws nervously against his thigh a few times, he clears his throat, but any words get caught before they can be made audible. Alastor, without moving his head, looks up over at him with the same air of carelessness. He’s paused mid page-turn.

Vox, suddenly feeling put on the spot, tenses. “Ah.. I.. wanted to thank you for last night.” He finally manages. In all honesty, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was planning to talk about when he started talking. All he knew was that it was better than sitting in silence, even if it made his systems burn with embarrassment. Alastor doesn’t respond, but Vox catches how the corners of his mouth tighten and pull up further with the smallest twitch. Vox continues. “And I hope… that the dance wasn’t a bother?” Not that he fully remembered it, but he still figured it was a good idea to apologize. Alastor always liked good manners.

The radio demon is silent again, the only sound coming from him being the quiet crackle of radio static. Vox finds himself tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves, blinking a few times before turning to look away. “I can pay you back for the tab on my part. It’s not like I’m lacking in money.” He offers, scowling at nothing in particular. The sound of a page turning follows, and Vox looks back in his direction. The page has been turned, but Alastor is still looking at him. He’s finally raised his head, offering a full view of his face.

Finally, Alastor speaks. “There is no need.”

There’s an odd impulse. “Are you sure?” He gestures forward with a hand, making a general sweeping motion. “I know I kinda got a lot.” There’s a hint of guilt buried somewhere under his tone. Alastor lifts one of his hands, flapping it flippantly with a chiding laugh. “Nonsense! I encouraged it.” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing scrutinizingly at Vox. The media demon subconsciously shrinks under his gaze, nodding understandingly. “And the dance?” It’s mostly curiosity that drives this question in particular. But there’s another small part of something behind the question that he isn’t quite sure about.

Alastor doesn’t falter. “It was enjoyable. What more is there?”

It’s an unexpected answer. Vox blinks a few times, his screen briefly switching to that of static before an uneasy expression replaces the dancing colors. He lets out a relieved laugh, slouching. “Really?”

Alastor nods, humming in agreement as he finally looks back down to the book in his lap. Nifty has gone back to reading now, slightly bouncing in place. Feeling satisfied, Vox finally stands up, readjusting his clothing more out of habit than of actual need to fix his appearance. “Well! I wouldn’t… be opposed to doing something like that again.” It’s awkwardly phrased, and he mentally curses himself for that.

Nonetheless, Alastor makes another noise of agreement. “Sounds splendid.” There’s disinterest in his tone, but he seems amused.

The conversation seems to end there, and Vox turns on his heel to leave. Though, just as he gets to the doors, Alastor speaks again. “Vox.” It’s almost in a demanding tone. It’s so sharp that it catches Vox off guard. Still, he turns around staring at Alastor expectantly. “Yes?” Alastor’s smile curls into something malicious, though not a bad kind of maliciousness. It’s some sort of sick amusement. When he speaks, his tone is almost teasing.

“Maybe next time we could go to your place, hm?”

Vox stutters at that, screen flickering off for a moment before clicking back on with a jolt. His fans kick up a notch and he just nods stiffly, mouth slightly agape. “Uh… yeah.”

He turns and leaves before anything else can be said.