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“Close your eyes!” Val said excitedly.
Velvette and Vox exchanged a look before doing so. If Valentino wants you to do something, you can bitch and moan, but it's best to just suck it up and do what he wants, within reason of course.
Velvette can't smell anything burning in the kitchen and Vox can't see any reluctant whores lurking in the corners of the penthouse, so maybe this “surprise” is something normal, or as close to normal as Val gets.
Past “surprises” for the two other Vees from Val have ranged from Val starting a turf war, Val buying a diamond butt plug for himself that cost way too fucking much on Vox's card, Val making his abuela’s favorite dish and setting the kitchen on fire, Val giving Shock.wav a special treat that led to him throwing up in his tank for two days. And of course there have been some good “surprises”, like a spa day or vintage magazines for Velvette, old electronics and shark knick knacks for Vox.
So this could go either way.
They close their eyes, Vox crossing his arms stoically.
They can hear Val's heels quickly step out of the room, and can hear him rummaging around in his bedroom.
“Val, babes, I need to head back downstairs. The girls have been fucking useless with the new line and I'm thinking of just firing the lot and only hiring gays.”
Val's laugh rings out, muffled by being in the other room.
“You know I love the gays, babydoll. And the girls. If they're misbehaving send them my way, I need some stick thin bitches in my repertoire.”
Vox snorts at the big word.
“Is this a surprise where you come out in sexy lingerie? Because I don't think Velvette is the right audience,” he chuckles.
“No it's not, but I do have a new set we can try out later,” Val says salaciously, heels tapping back into the room.
“Lay out your hands,”
Both Vox and Vel hesitate.
This could be something gross, something messy, hopefully not something dangerous.
They put their hands out slowly, eyes still closed.
Val places an item in Vox's hands then Vel's.
They have no idea what they are.
“Okay, open your eyes!”
Vox and Vel look down at the gifts in their hands.
“A gun?”
“Not just any gun,” Val says excitedly, pointing at the lettering on the sides of each. “Your own personalized guns. To match Moneyshot!”
Velvette blinks at the purple gun in her hands. It's bedazzled just like Val's, and has swooping cursive gold spelling out VELVETTE on the sides, a skull earring painted on the handle on one side, and a love potion bottle on the other.
“Wait, this is actually pretty cool. Will you teach me to shoot?” She asks.
Val nods.
“Of course! And you don't have to use it in a fight or anything, It would look badass on your shelf too.”
Velvette grins, opens the chamber. There's no bullets in there, which is good because she's never shot a gun in her life.
Vox runs a claw over his own gun. It's a dark blue with cyan accents. No rhinestones or glitter on this gun, but the name VOX spelled out in blue lightning along the side, the handle painted with Vox's tech sharks on both sides.
“Wow, you painted this? This is really good, Val,” he murmurs, turning the gun towards himself. Where the bullet exits is painted red and black swirls like his hypnosis.
“Don't point it right at your face, mi luz, Jesus,” Val says, using a finger to move it out of the way.
“They're not loaded, thank fuck, because you two would accidentally shoot yourselves or each other or my sexy ass and we can't have that until we've been to the shooting range. Make it more of a fair fight when we play cowboys.”
Vox lays his new gun on the coffee table, and tugs Val's hand to sit down on the couch with them.
Velvette is quick to hug Val.
“Thanks Vee. I love it! And I'm gonna need a pic of all three of us with them… or a photoshoot! I can already see the headline: “Hot and Dangerous: The Vees stun in Western Photoshoot.”
Val laughs, hugs her back.
“Only if you give me some ass less chaps.”
Vox tugs one of Val's hands free, presses a kiss to his knuckles.
“Thanks, babe. Your artistic talent is always such a delightful surprise.”
Val grabs the TV remote, leans back into the couch.
“You flatterer. I could put googly eyes on a rock and you'd say it rivals the Mona Lisa.”
Vox chuckles, wraps an arm around him.
“I don't know about that, but selling googly eyes on a rock however… well our customers will buy anything if we slap our faces on it.”
“We're not selling rocks with googly eyes, Vox. Not unless they have little hats or glasses or accessories.”