The increase in the schedule... it wasn't what Vox usually lined up for Alastor, but Alastor had made the efforts himself. His radio probably knew what he was doing, probably wanted to wrap up the filming and get everything back on schedule. He'd done his grind weeks, he remembers the struggle.

For now, he's helped his deer get his makeup on and dressed for the evening - nothing too fancy, just a party being thrown to impress some of the big players with the tasteful aesthetic that Vox could offer them as an Overlord. Alastor was reserved as the nine o'clock entertainment, some singing and piano to soothe the crowd before kicking it into a jazzy gear.

Checking in on Alastor now that he didn't have yet another fawning compliment over his upgrade, Vox gently tilted up Alastor's chin. "Quarter till showtime, my deer. Last call to powder your nose before your set," he hummed in amusement. Coke, or just makeup touchup, he didn't care which meaning Alastor took really.