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The weeks following Vox’s crash out had been a slow, agonizing crawl through the gutter of public opinion. He was no longer the King of Media; he was the laughingstock of Hell, a "glitch in the system" that everyone was waiting to see finally short-circuit.
Currently, he is perched on the edge of the couch in Valentino’s private room. Without his body, he was stuck as a "dumb TV head”.
His screen flickered with a feed of his own sinking ratings.
“You lost everything.”
“Nobody likes u, failure!”
“Old news.”
“Alastor’s bitch.”
Vox’s eye spiraled. He felt small, like an antique left in someone's basement.
Outside the door, Valentino was watching his once business partner. He didn't look at Vox at first. He was still pissed about everything. How Vox was gonna kill all of them just because of the stupid red tampon and the mess he left them with, ruining their fucking reputation. But as he caught sight of the pathetic TV sitting alone in the dark, a flare of something that wasn't quite hatred crossed his face.
Thump.
A decorative pillow caught Vox square in the face.
"GAH!" Vox yelped. "What the hell was that, Val?!"
Val didn't apologize. He stepped closer until his glasses reflected off Vox’s screen.
"I'm bored, cabrón," Val drawled, "Put on my favourite show. I need a distraction from all your whining."
Vox wanted to snap back. He wanted to scream that he wasn't a fucking appliance you can just control. He looked into Val’s eyes and remembered the current state he’s in. Right now, he was lucky to even be on this couch.
He’d fucked it all up.
"Fine," Vox muttered, his voice buzzing with a defeated static.
He blinked, consciousness slipping into the network until a familiar jingle played.
“Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?”
Val let out a soft smile. He tucked a pillow behind Vox’s head and lay back, kicking his feet like a teenage girl.
For the first time in weeks, he didn’t care what Hell might think of him right now. He knew that he was never going to conquer Heaven or earn Alastor’s respect—but as Val’s hand rested idly on his frame, tapping along to the trashy theme song, it didn't seem to matter as much.
"Don't get used to this," Vox grumbled.
"Shut up and play the next episode," Val quipped, eyes glued to the screen.
Vox did. For now, the attention was enough.