Chapter Text
"Remind me again what we're doing here, as opposed to doing literally anything else?"
Vox huffed as he popped his martini olive into his mouth. His optical interface swept to his left at the figure in muted browns and reds, pouting there. Yes, pouting. Alastor was anything but subtle. "We're celebrating, ya brat."
"Oh please, like you know the old coot," Alastor thrust a hand out at the admittedly swanky dance hall, awash in golden light, tinkling chandeliers, and the sort of hushed small talk Overlords were famous for, always scheming and making connections right out in the open - it was almost salacious. The 'old coot' in question, a powerful Overlord known only as Zestial, sat in a booth on the other side, surrounded by fawners of all sorts leaning on his every word. Alastor had met the fellow once - just once - that evening when Vox suggested he tag along as the event promised to be quite the affair (hah! Alastor was almost bored to tears!) and found that interaction was more than enough.
Zestial was polite of course, welcoming only as much as he needed to be as he thanked the Media Overlord and Radio Demon respectively for their presence before tipping his top hat and swishing his vampire-like black cloak, slipping away in the huddle of sparkling cocktail dresses and polished shoes.
"I do know him, and he's not a coot." Vox responded, flatly. "He's a respected member of the kingdom and he's got power oozing from his eyeballs. It's good business to at least remain on friendly terms with him,"
Alastor tutted, smile going sour. "But it's so boring! You'd think they'd spring for a piñata or something, anything to liven up the mood."
Vox gestured vaguely. "There's a live band,"
"They're barely decent at best." A familiar static crackle accompanied his statement, and his microphone cane set beside their booth glowed faintly. "I could provide a better playlist in my sleep!"
Vox rolled his eyes. Bumping elbows with the elites really wasn't the eccentric deer's idea of a good time, he was far too restless and sharp-tongued to behave himself for longer than ten minutes. At first, it seemed like a good idea: Al showing his elusive face could only benefit him and that ratty hotel he insisted on babysitting. Vox considered it all an act of goodwill. Plus, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy spending time with the deer. Al was spontaneous, brash, and wildly entertaining. Vox could surely handle a little bit of bad attitude, right?
It seemed he was being put to the test.
"Well, hey!" A voice to their right caused them both to turn, clearly not expecting the speaker. Anthony Ragnarelli, or Angel Dust judging by the opulent dress he'd donned. His makeup was impeccable as was the massive platinum wig atop his head and if it weren't for the accent, Alastor probably wouldn't have recognized him. The tall spider draped slender arms over the booth backrest, smirking at the media mogul and deer. "Fancy runnin' into you two swells." He made a show of inspecting their duds, clearly liking what he saw as he gave a slow nod.
Vox sipped his martini, inclining his screen in greeting as Alastor squinted. "What are you doing here, Anthony?"
Anthony tutted. "It's Angel Dust, baby. I'm on the clock." He nodded back at his table. "What are you doing here, Al? Was Bingo night cancelled?" He held a delicate gloved hand to his painted lips, but the chortle was still audible.
Alastor's grin twitched. "I wasn't aware this sort of shindig was your scene is all."
Anthony slumped slightly atop his perch with a rather theatrical, "Oh, don't get me started. Look, I'm up for anythin' 'long as the pay's good, but this snoozefest?" He jerked a thumbed out at the floor.
Vox rolled his eyes. "Neither of you clearly get what tonight's about."
"Oh? Do enlighten us, Daddy," the spider laced his fingers together, eyes squinting.
Vox certainly enlightened. In fact, if he was any "light"er, his screen might have busted. "Only the top Overlords get this honor, and even then it's not a guarantee. You have to be ruthless, strategic, and know when to take your punches. Zestial's been in this game longer than I have - hell, longer than most of us, so I say hats off to him." He tipped his glass.
Both Alastor and Anthony were silent after his impromptu speech, blinking owlishly. Right when Vox began to wonder if he'd in fact blinded them with his accidental brilliance, Anthony whistled lowly. "Hey, ain't that the bigshot Detective ovah there?"
Radio and Video both tilted their heads to find that indeed yes, Detective Adam Firstman was here, in a nearby booth a surrounded by a few female officers, Lute included. And before Vox could further accentuate his point, well, he realized the Detective was in fact asleep. Not only that, but he was still holding onto his glass like he intended to take a sip. It was impressive in a pathetic way.
Alastor snorted with laughter and Vox sighed, long and world-weary. "Why do I even bother with you uncultureds?" He polished off the last of his martini and flagged down a passing waitress, ordering a gin and tonic. Alastor raised his hand and ordered a sazerac, neat.
"Ah, don't take it too hard," Anthony chimed in. "We can't all have a shinin' example such as you," he tipped a wink before slipping back behind the booth.
Their drinks arrived and Alastor gingerly patted the television's shoulder in a rare moment of connection. His grin shone for once with something soft. "Vox, I would like to first thank you for the invitation. I can see tonight means a lot to you and while I can hardly be considered optimal company in an event like this, it truly means a lot to me that you even considered...- what are you even looking at?" Long-winded Al may be, and was quite good at to, but the more he went on spouting these cheesy feel-good lines, Vox's attention remained fixed somewhere in the middle distance. Not that Alastor was pouring his heart out, but it would be nice to at least hold his attention!
Vox jolted back to the present, a cyan flush spreading over his screen only to dim almost as quickly. "Huh? Yeah? Nice evening, huh?"
Suspicious, Alastor tracked his friend's gaze. Familiar faces were popping up everywhere tonight as he noticed a violet fish across the way, her dark purple and mint-streaked fintails curled elegantly. She stood out not just because of her sparkling black dress, but the company she was keeping: a plump blonde dame, tiara in her hair, boa over her shoulders, dress hugging all the right curves. Of course Mimzy would be here, this place practically screamed opportunity for her vulturous ways. He shook his head, exasperated. "You really are something, old pal."
Vox's frame shook with a chuckle. "Hey, I'm a man of simple tastes: booze, high society, gorgeous women, and my trusty wingman," he lightly elbowed the radio host.
Alastor scoffed. "You don't have the game for half those women."
The screen gave an indignant little flicker as Vox adjusted his bowtie. "Excuse me? I got game."
"Yes well, watching you try and limp your way through an interaction with either one of them wasn't on my card for tonight," the deer sipped his drink.
"Oho!" Vox turned his torso, facing Alastor with narrowed optics. "Is that a challenge?"
"Hardly, my good man. And definitely not with Mimzy." He nodded curtly towards his longtime... well, he might have considered her a friend on his good days. Truth be told, Mimzy was far too zany even for him, sniffing out trouble every which way and digging deeper and deeper holes for herself. Her being here tonight didn't bode anything good. She was likely sniffing out potential partners saps she could swindle, and despite all the banter, Alastor liked Vox and didn't want him falling prey.
It seemed Vox didn't quite get the hint. "She off limits, or something? You got the hots for her?"
It was a shame that Alastor happened to be taking a sip - the sazerac was rather good tonight - and decided to share his drink with the table surface, his coughs quickly turning to choked laughter. "M-me? With Mimzy? Don't be absurd!"
"Well then, what's the hold up?"
As if privy to the conversation, the two women glanced back, catching both men by surprise. Mimzy gave a a flirty little wave as her fishy companion smiled brightly. As they moved off, Alastor could feel Vox falling hook, line, and sinker and he groaned aloud. Well, he might as well make the best of the evening if he was going to be dragged along through Vox's romantic conquests. He suddenly stood up on the booth cushion, his drink in one hand as he spoke into his microphone. He ignored the frantic tugging at his jacket.
"Attention, please. Attention!" He spoke pleasantly, his Radio Host persona settling comfortably as he addressed the rapidly-quieting hall. Even the band ceased playing. Detective Firstman jolted from his nap, spilling his drink. "I would like to take this opportunity to thank each and everyone of you swanks for showing your faces tonight as we take this time to thank the one and only Zestial!" He raised his glass. "My dear sir, you've had a long and illustrious career, perhaps the longest of all time!" He snickered briefly, lightly stepping onto the table and away from Vox's insistent swipes. The television's screen was glitching with panicked colorful bars and snow.
"And now, what say we get this shindig actually going with a round of drinks, on the house!" The final declaration boomed and was quickly followed by a round of whoops and cheers as hands shot up in the air. Alastor's smile could best be described as "shit-eating" as he neatly hopped off the table, saluting Mimzy and the violet fish before downing his own drink.
"Was that necessary?" Vox hissed, claws cradling where he forehead would be.
"Of course it was! If you're going through with whatever you're thinking, what kind of wingman would I be if I didn't sweeten the pot?"
"Oh, that... you did that for me?" The claws dropped and Vox's display widened in surprised.
"Goodness no! Well, not just for you!" Alastor twirled his microphone. "It's partly for me, if I'm to stick around and keep you safe."
Vox snorted and folded his arms. "Yea, real sweet, Al." He raised his glass. "Let's get this party started."