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Summary
There’s an old bar in Pentagram City that never upgraded, no wall-to-wall screens, no neon sponsorships, no VoxTek branding. Just dust, jazz, and a radio that always seems to hum a little louder when Alastor walks in.
Vox tells himself he’s only there for the nostalgia.
Alastor gets drunk enough to prove him wrong.OR drunk Alastor lets Vox touch his ears (and they're quite sensitive)
