Chapter Text
Velvette didn't even need to look up when she heard it.
That was the third lovesick sigh in under ten minutes—long, dramatic, and so painfully sincere it made her want to throw something expensive… Like one of Vox's stupid glass shark figurines.
There was only one thing in Hell that could make Vox sound like a rejected protagonist from a bargain-bin romance. Still, she turned her head toward the balcony, just to confirm.
Of course.
There Vox was—elbows on the railing, head in his hands, staring out like he was contemplating poetry instead of... whatever fresh atrocity was currently unfolding outside.
Velvette closed her eyes for a brief, centering moment.
At least the tower's shielding held. At least no one else in Hell could see one of its most powerful Overlords acting like a lovestruck idiot over... Well. She already knew by now who Vox was looking at.
She stepped closer to the window, looking outside.
The Radio Demon, building-sized, slick with blood and grinning wide enough to split his face in half, dropped another screaming sinner into a writhing, tooth-filled maw. He cackled.
The unmistakeable sound of bones snapping was loud.
"Oh, for fuck's sake—" she mutters.
You'd think that would drive Vox away from the balcony, but it did not.
"What a doll..." he sighed dreamily.
Velvette whipped around. "Val! Get in here and drag this idiot inside before he offers himself up like a virgin sacrifice!"
A loud crash answered her as Vox stumbled back through the doorway.
"Is that an option?!"
"Vee... No," Velvette deadpans.
Vox pouts.
Valentino barely glanced towards them before scoffing.
"Oh, please. We both know if that radio freak snapped his fingers, Vox would be halfway to picking out curtains and calling himself a housewife."
Velvette rolled her eyes. "Don't encourage him."
From the doorway, Vox perked up. "Well, I mean—"
"Not a word," Velvette snapped.
Vox paused, then frowned slightly. "...Do you think he'd prefer something vintage? I could do vintage."
Valentino snorted.
Velvette stared at the ceiling like she was asking Hell itself for patience she absolutely did not possess.
"You are a lovesick loser, Vox." She says, dragging a hand down her face.
Vox blinked. "I prefer devoted."
"You're humiliating," she shot back. "If anyone outside this Tower saw you right now, our entire brand would implode."
Valentino snickered. "Please, I'd pay to see that."
"Our brand," Velvette snapped, rounding on him, "relies on people thinking he's intimidating, not—" She gestured vaguely toward Vox, who was still half-turned toward the balcony, "this."
Vox frowned. "What? Appreciative?"
"Pathetic," Velvette corrected flatly.
There was a moment of silence.
"...Do you think he likes attentive partners?" Vox asked.
Velvette stared at him.
Valentino was already wheezing, collapsing on the fluffy carpet.
"You know, baby doll, this information would make us a killing on the black market," Valentino giggles.
Vox wasn't listening. Velvette looked tired and flicked her wrist. A screen snapped to life in the air between them.
"Be serious. Be so serious right now."
The footage was grainy, clearly not meant for public circulation. It was raw and unfiltered.
Alastor—towering, distorted, all wrong—moved like a glitch in reality itself. Limbs stretched too far, shadows splitting and reforming as he tore through a crowd of sinners. Laughter crackled through the audio, warped and overlapping, as something that used to be a person disappeared into a mass of teeth. It was taken on one of his many bloody strolls through Hell.
And yet, Vox was staring like she just conjured up a PowerPoint presentation for the pros of chasing the maniacal deer, not the cons.
Velvette jabbed a finger at the screen. "You're attracted to this?"
There was a brief pause, then Vox leaned in slightly; his expression softened. Valentino watched with a grin.
"...Wow," he breathed. "Look at the way he moves. He's beautiful."
Velvette went still.
Valentino choked on a laugh.
"He's got presence," Vox continued, eyes practically glowing. "That confidence, that control—"
"What we see on the screen is a massacre," Velvette cut in.
"And he makes it look effortless," Vox sighed.
Velvette slowly turned to Valentino. "I'm going to deck him."
Valentino, a little too busy rolling around on the carpet, laughed so hard tears formed from the sheer comedy of Vox's love life.
He wiped at his eyes, grinning. "Get in line."
"Look at that grace, that... poise. I bet he looked even better back on Earth." Vox's eyes were glued to the screen.
Velvette was two seconds away from actually throwing Vox's stupid shark figurines through a screen this time. She slams a hand over Valentino's mouth to stop him from laughing like a hyena again.
"—that is not poise; that is dismemberment," she snapped, jabbing a finger at the paused footage still hovering in the air.
Vox, now sprawled against the couch like he was watching a late-night romance, barely blinked. "It's both."
"It is not both!"
"It can be both," he insisted mildly, not even looking at her. "You just have to appreciate nuance."
Velvette made a noise that sounded like a system error given human form.
Valentino watched the exchange and then suddenly sat up.
"Oh!" he gasped.
Velvette didn't like that tone. "Oh, what?"
Val's grin spread, sharp and delighted. "Oh, I'm about to solve all our problems!"
"No-"
He was already standing. "Give me five minutes."
"Valentino-"
Too late… He was gone. Velvette stared at the doorway like she could will it to collapse.
Vox sighed from the couch. "Do you think he prefers bold gestures or subtle ones?"
He didn't need to say who he was.
"I think," Velvette said flatly, "that if you say one more word, I'm unplugging you."
"I can adjust for him! Within reason!"
Right, because he's always been reasonable about Alastor so far.
"You are not rebranding yourself for a serial killer," Velvette glared.
"We were both serial killers on Earth; that's romantic." Vox huffs.
She didn't even want to ask how or why he knew that. She proceeds to sit down with a withering look as Vox goes through the limited number of uncorrupted photos of the Radio Demon in the archive.
"...See that pause?" Vox leaned in slightly. "That's restraint."
"That's him deciding who to kill first," Velvette says dryly, unimpressed.
"No, it's intentional," Vox said softly. "He knows exactly what he's doing."
Velvette considered either screaming into a pillow or smothering Vox with one… Five minutes later, the doors burst open.
Valentino swept back in like he'd just solved world hunger.
"Problem," he announced grandly, "handled."
Velvette turned slowly. "I swear to-"
She stopped.
Behind him stood two demon women—both striking, both looking around with the kind of curiosity that suggested they'd been given very little context.
Val beamed. "You're welcome."
There was a long, heavy silence.
Velvette blinked once, twice. "You did not."
"I did," he said, pleased with himself. "He's desperate; we redirect it! A win-win. I even got redheads!"
"You brought... strangers... into our Tower," Velvette said, voice dangerously calm, "to, what, distract him?"
"Cure him," Valentino corrected happily.
"What the fuck do you think this is, a gangbang?" Velvette gives him a sour look.
"Well, not with that attitude it isn't!" Valentino huffs.
Velvette massages her temples. Vox barely spared the women a glance from where he was sprawled out on the couch.
"...Oh, hi," he said absently.
Neither of the women had even fully stepped into the room before it became painfully obvious he wasn't looking at them at all.
His gaze had already drifted past them, back toward the balcony, distant and unfocused like none of this had anything to do with him. Alastor's unhinged laughter was still ringing outside.
One of the women cleared her throat. "So, uh-"
"Give him a minute," Val said under his breath, smiling. "He'll come around."
Vox tilted his head slightly, like he was listening to Alastor's laugh.
"...Do you think he knows I'm watching?" he murmured.
Velvette closed her eyes.
"No," she said, with feeling, "I'm watching, and I deeply regret it."
"...He turned toward this side of the city earlier."
"It's his lunchtime at this hour. He came to eat people." Velvette said flatly.
"Still! He knows I'm here."
The second woman shifted awkwardly. "Are we interrupting something?"
"Yes," Velvette snapped. "A Vox-shaped disaster."
Valentino waved a hand. "Relax. Watch this."
Velvette put her hands on her hips. The women watch as if they genuinely believe Valentino knows what he's doing.
He clapped once, loudly. "Voxxy! Focus."
Vox blinked, finally dragging his attention back into the room. For a brief, shining moment, it looked like Valentino might actually be right. Vox's eyes landed on the two women and paused.
"Oh," he said.
Val grinned widely.
Velvette braced for impact.
Vox frowned slightly.
"...Sorry," he said, polite but distracted. "You're not really my type."
Everyone stood in silence. Valentino stared at him, betrayed. The women stared at him, confused. Velvette very slowly turned her head toward Valentino.
"You're a moron too," she said.
Val blinked. "What do you mean too—"
From the couch, Vox leaned back again, gaze drifting past all of them like they'd ceased to exist. A soft, utterly lovesick sigh escaped him.
"God, he's incredible..."
Velvette looked at the ceiling.
"I'm going to start charging you both for emotional damages."
One of the women raised a hand. "Can we leave?"
"Yes," Velvette said immediately.
"Wait, no—" Valentino started at the same time.
Velvette points to the door.
"Out."
They did not need to be told twice. The doors hadn't even fully shut before Valentino moved.
"Velvette, no—!" he gasped, clutching his chest. "My-"
Her eyes narrow. In one smooth motion, she grabbed him by the coat and yanked him back before he could take a single step toward the exit.
"Don't you dare finish that sentence."
Val struggled dramatically anyway, reaching toward the door like something out of a tragic opera. "My girls are leaving!"
"Good."
"My whores, Velvette!" he corrected, scandalized. "Do you know how hard it is to find talent like that on short notice?!"
Velvette stared at him, as if contemplating what to throw at his head.
"Tell me," she said, her voice dangerously flat, "that you did not just drag two of your employees in here to 'fix' Vox."
Val pouted. "Well, I wasn't going to bring amateurs."
Velvette let go of him only so she could press her fingers to her temple again.
"You are," she said carefully, "a complete and utter moron."
"Excuse you," Valentino gasped, straightening his coat. "I had a system. I had results. Very high success rate!"
"On who?!" she snapped.
Val gestured vaguely toward Vox. "On people with taste."
"I do have taste," Vox said distantly. "It's just... refined."
Velvette turned to him. "You have a problem."
"Mm," Vox hummed. "He does seem like the type to appreciate something classic."
Val threw his hands up. "See? That's what I was working with!"
"You were working with Vox's delusion," Velvette deadpans.
Another dreamy sigh drifted across the room.
Valentino winced. "Okay, yeah, no, that's... worse than I thought."
Velvette folded her arms. "Congratulations. Your brilliant plan achieved nothing except wasting my time."
Val pointed at the door. "I can still salvage this—"
She grabbed his sleeve this time.
"No, you can't."
"But—" Val pouts.
"No."
"They're literally still in the hallway—"
"Then they can keep walking."
Valentino looked pained. "You're heartless."
"I'm practical," Velvette grumbled. "Unlike the two of you."
"...Do you think I should start wearing red more often?" Vox murmured.
They both froze, turning their heads to Vox.
"Oh, he's gone, gone," Val said.
Velvette exhaled sharply. "I am surrounded by idiots."
Val smirked. "You love us."
"I love the brand," she corrected. "Which you are both actively destroying."
Another sigh. Velvette didn't even bother reacting; she just glared at Val.
"Next time you bring anyone in here without warning, I'm locking you out with them."
Valentino considered that. And then considered more helpful solutions.
"... We can rebrand their rivalry as enemies-to-lovers content and sell tickets for their fights?" he suggests.
Velvette lunged, fed up with Valentino's version of helping.
"But Vel, think about the revenue—" he whines, avoiding her annoyed blows.
"I'm throwing you off this balcony and letting the radio creep eat you alive!" She snaps at him.
He crosses his arms.
"...You wouldn't," Valentino said.
She finally smiled.
Valentino stepped back. "Okay, yeah, fair."
Velvette didn't even get the last word out because noise came. Every speaker. Every device in the tower flickered at once... Static bloomed like a pulse.
Velvette stiffened.
Valentino blinked. "Ay, no."
A voice slid through the room, smooth and crackling all at once.
I know you're watching...
A soft laugh followed, stretching like smoke through the walls.
Come on out... No need to be shy, Vox.
For a split second, everything stopped. If the purring was unsettling for Velvette, it might as well have been a 'come and get me' to Vox's ears. She turned to him.
"...Absolutely not."
Valentino was shaking his head next to her.
"Nope, this is what we're not going to do—"
Vox, however, had already stood up. His entire posture changed in an instant. Gone was the lounging, the sighing, the lovesick eyes. He looked focused... reverent.
"Alastor," Vox breathed.
Velvette's eye twitched. "Vox, don't you dare—Val, grab him!"
But it was too late. Electricity snapped violently through the room.
Valentino lunged. "Vox-!"
He hit nothing but static... Vox was gone.