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Alastor is the first to stay that Vox makes a much more tolerable woman that whatever it was she was previously pretending to be. Not because she had changed in any meaningful way- oh, heaven’s no, if anything she was worse- but simply because Alastor was biased towards all women, regardless of behaviour.
As it turned out, there was a admittedly obvious explanation behind that.
And that explanation was playing an unexpectedly large role in reconsidering that bias. “The fuck is this?”
“A newspaper, dear,” she answers, swatting the latest issue of the Pentagram Times out of her face. “Did you come all the way to my studio just to ask?”
“What is this?” Vox clarifies, if you can call it that, pointing to the headline; From Radio Demon to Radio Doe; Infamous Overlord Leaves the Closet. Rather crass, but she supposed it got the point across.
Still, she’s allowed to play dumb. “The news, sweetheart.”
“You can’t be a woman,” Vox says, rolling the paper up. “I’m a woman.”
“I wasn’t aware we were reaching maximum capacity.”
“We are now, jackass!” she snaps. “Now everyone's going to think I’m copying you.”
“And you'd like for me to me stop.”
“Yes.”
“Because what I do with my own life and body bears the possibility of bruising your ego?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds stupid.” the media demon scowls. “It's bad enough that you're… I don't need you to be my fucking sister, too.”
“Well, isn't that a pathetically sweet way to phrase things,” Alastor replies. “Never call me that again. I’m hardly looking for guidance.”
“You sure about that? I can see your Adam’s apple from here,” Vox mocks. “And you need to get rid of those fucking antlers, are you even trying?”
“I have more important things to care about.”
“Of course you do,” the other woman responds, seemingly under the impression she had landed a devastating insult. “Anyway, I’m leaving. Good luck, you old bitch- you’ll need it.”
It's good to know nothing has changed between them.