It was a good thing his body could contort so easily in ways it really shouldn't. If it wasn't able to do that, the way he was being positioned would really hurt.
He didn't dare argue. It might not have been his intention to doubt his overlord, but fear was a form of doubt.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, ears flattening in fear.
Vox was very good to. Far more than he deserved, really.
But that also meant he knew the best ways to break Alastor if need be.
Good boy. Fear was a good look on him. Subservient, fearful, gorgeous.
Vox dismissed the chains, relaxing his hold and resting his other hand on the small of Alastor's back, holding the man in a loose embrace as he swayed. Not from passing out, though his body threatened it, but in a gentle dance.
Alastor automatically moved in perfect synchronicity with Vox. He relaxed a bit that Vox didn't seem too upset by him. However, he was still on edge, fully knowledgeable that another misstep would not be appreciated.
Even if he did want to tell Vox to sit down, he bit his tongue. He'd gotten lucky this time. Best not to press it.
Perfect. That's more like it. That's the way things should be.
Now he can be sure that Alastor won't leave him, or stab him in the back. But really-- this radio of his was growing stronger! He just needed to figure out how to really boost himself from that power, how to harness it... hmm. He needed to improve himself even more.
Vox smirked, spinning Alastor in a slow, steady move before bowing in a performance of classic respect - for a dancing partner.
Hey, if nothing else, it looks like his new head isn't about to fall off from Vox bending over!
Oh, Vox. Alastor would never leave or backstab you. He'd rather have an Exorcist run him through.
Alastor gave a bow in return as was only right. Not just as a sign of respect to his dancing partner but as an additional show of apology for doubting his overlord for ever a moment.
"Is there anything you need from me?"
Eager. He wanted to make his lapse up to Vox. He wasn't more trouble than he was worth. Please oh please don't throw him away...
Hmm... Vox folded his arms behind his back - his usual stance when thinking things through. There's an initial thought to have Alastor clean up the mess, but he'd reacted so bad it'd be more trouble than it's worth - and maybe too harsh on someone that responded immediately when his signal called, even when he expressly said he wasn't going to be there.
...Hmm.
He beckons with a finger for Alastor to follow, abandoning the gory work station for someone else to clean up.
Alastor didn't hesitate, didn't ask questions. He simply followed.
He'd wondered if he'd have to clean up the mess. Somehow it unsettled him to clean up Vox's blood and throw out the remains of his old head. Though perhaps he needed to get used to it. Just because Vox was happy with the current generation of flatscreens didn't mean he wouldn't upgrade in the future.
Vox stopped only once, when one of the assistants crossed paths with them both - the wide-eyed sinner trembled, Vox gestured at the phone in their hand, and the assistant nodded after seeing the message. They took off, hurrying towards the grotesque room, clearly assigned as the stooge to clean it.
For Alastor, though. He'd been a good boy answering his Overlord's distress signal, however unintentional and unwanted it was. He didn't want to completely disincentivize that. So it was back to Vox's room they went, the TV headed man opening the door for Alastor and gesturing politely. Come in.
And naturally, Vox followed. Oh, connecting was so, SO smooth now - not to Alastor, but to his sound system. He turned on the recording of some sixties jazz. Good decade, he thought. And crossing the room to his liquor cabinet, he plucked a glass out and poured a little whiskey.
Just one glass, which he passed to Alastor. Vox's throat was still in pieces, after all. The overlord gestured for Alastor to sit before he himself sunk into a chair, relaxing bonelessly into it.
Alastor sat down, taking the glass with a murmured thanks. He sipped from his glass, closing his eyes to enjoy the drink and the music.
Vox seemed quite pleased with himself. Considering his upgrade, that shouldn't be too surprising. VoxTek devices were meant to work together, so Vox could probably control every automated device in the building at once now.
Alastor should probably take his leave and head back to set, but until Vox dismissed him, he would assume his place was here. This was where he belonged, after all.
Though Alastor was still on alert and though his own body was coming down from the high and feeling the intensity of the pain, Vox reached out with his signal to connect to his radio.
The old connection felt a bit more mismatched... but they were still compatible. And right now, Vox wanted to feel Alastor feeling relaxed.
It took a second for Alastor's signal to find Vox's. Vox would feel Alastor's anxiety but it wasn't directed at Vox.
No, it was directed at himself.
Vox could upgrade himself, could always be heading into the future.
Alastor couldn't.
Save being able to pick up and transmit XM radio waves, Alastor's technology-based powers hadn't had an upgrade in decades because what else could be done with a radio? It could be used as a bluetooth speaker, sure, but there really wasn't any need to connect it with the internet or any of the other fancy "smart" functionality that televisions could do nowadays.
Vox could upgrade, upgrade, and upgrade, but Alastor would eventually become obsolete. They might not even be able to connect anymore.
He'll throw you out. You'll be worth nothing to him.
Muuuuch better, good boy. Vox relaxed again, folding his hands over his chest and kicking his feet up on an ottoman. Such a fussy, worried radio. No, he isn't getting rid of his deer any time soon. He might upgrade, but he needs those roots, those fundamentals to stay concrete foundation for everything else.
Alastor sat quietly, sipping at his drink as he worked to relax himself so that Vox could rest. Everything would be fine. Everything would be okay.
He set his drink down and muted his phone, turning off the sound. He texted the director to let him know that he wasn't sure when he'd be back on set. That way other scenes without him could be filmed and stay somewhat on schedule.
Then he started looking through his email, checking against his calendar.
If he rearranged this...skipped a little sleep here and there...
Yes, he could work more productions for Vox. This would work great.
The quiet of the jazz, the whiskey buzz, the dedication and relief... Vox goes from trying to relax and drown out the pain to completely asleep in around half an hour. Some of it's blood loss and his body needing to focus on regenerating, sure, but with how his shoulders and fingers sink and his new screen blinks off, it's clear he's actually asleep.
Alastor very carefully got up and gently maneuvered Vox into a more comfortable position, adjusting the pillows to ensure Vox's neck was supported to heal properly.
Once that was finished, he went back to his seat. He still hadn't been dismissed by Vox yet, but he didn't take another drop of the whiskey. Instead, he curled up with his phone, carefully tapping through his emails and schedule. An extra rehearsal here, accepting a shooting schedule change there, so on and so forth until the battery died. Then he finally closed his eyes to take a nap of his own.
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He didn't dare argue. It might not have been his intention to doubt his overlord, but fear was a form of doubt.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, ears flattening in fear.
Vox was very good to. Far more than he deserved, really.
But that also meant he knew the best ways to break Alastor if need be.
no subject
Vox dismissed the chains, relaxing his hold and resting his other hand on the small of Alastor's back, holding the man in a loose embrace as he swayed. Not from passing out, though his body threatened it, but in a gentle dance.
Alastor just had to remember to keep in step.
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Even if he did want to tell Vox to sit down, he bit his tongue. He'd gotten lucky this time. Best not to press it.
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Now he can be sure that Alastor won't leave him, or stab him in the back. But really-- this radio of his was growing stronger! He just needed to figure out how to really boost himself from that power, how to harness it... hmm. He needed to improve himself even more.
Vox smirked, spinning Alastor in a slow, steady move before bowing in a performance of classic respect - for a dancing partner.
Hey, if nothing else, it looks like his new head isn't about to fall off from Vox bending over!
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Alastor gave a bow in return as was only right. Not just as a sign of respect to his dancing partner but as an additional show of apology for doubting his overlord for ever a moment.
"Is there anything you need from me?"
Eager. He wanted to make his lapse up to Vox. He wasn't more trouble than he was worth. Please oh please don't throw him away...
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...Hmm.
He beckons with a finger for Alastor to follow, abandoning the gory work station for someone else to clean up.
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He'd wondered if he'd have to clean up the mess. Somehow it unsettled him to clean up Vox's blood and throw out the remains of his old head. Though perhaps he needed to get used to it. Just because Vox was happy with the current generation of flatscreens didn't mean he wouldn't upgrade in the future.
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For Alastor, though. He'd been a good boy answering his Overlord's distress signal, however unintentional and unwanted it was. He didn't want to completely disincentivize that. So it was back to Vox's room they went, the TV headed man opening the door for Alastor and gesturing politely. Come in.
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Alastor entered the room as instructed. His heartbeat thudded away in his ears in a rush of fear for what Vox might be thinking to do to him.
However, he kept smiling as always. What Vox decided he'd do, he'd do. Alastor would accept that.
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Just one glass, which he passed to Alastor. Vox's throat was still in pieces, after all. The overlord gestured for Alastor to sit before he himself sunk into a chair, relaxing bonelessly into it.
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Vox seemed quite pleased with himself. Considering his upgrade, that shouldn't be too surprising. VoxTek devices were meant to work together, so Vox could probably control every automated device in the building at once now.
Alastor should probably take his leave and head back to set, but until Vox dismissed him, he would assume his place was here. This was where he belonged, after all.
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The old connection felt a bit more mismatched... but they were still compatible. And right now, Vox wanted to feel Alastor feeling relaxed.
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No, it was directed at himself.
Vox could upgrade himself, could always be heading into the future.
Alastor couldn't.
Save being able to pick up and transmit XM radio waves, Alastor's technology-based powers hadn't had an upgrade in decades because what else could be done with a radio? It could be used as a bluetooth speaker, sure, but there really wasn't any need to connect it with the internet or any of the other fancy "smart" functionality that televisions could do nowadays.
Vox could upgrade, upgrade, and upgrade, but Alastor would eventually become obsolete. They might not even be able to connect anymore.
He'll throw you out. You'll be worth nothing to him.
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Afraid of being thrown out? After he did all of that impressive shit, responding to a subconscious call and showing more power?
Fuck no, he wasn't going to throw Alastor out. He made that clear with a more firm ping, a simple one, possessive.
Mine.
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Vox wanted him. Wanted to keep him.
It was relieving to know he was so highly-valued by his overlord. The anxiety calmed down as he sent back a confirming "yours".
Alastor would make sure that never changed.
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He set his drink down and muted his phone, turning off the sound. He texted the director to let him know that he wasn't sure when he'd be back on set. That way other scenes without him could be filmed and stay somewhat on schedule.
Then he started looking through his email, checking against his calendar.
If he rearranged this...skipped a little sleep here and there...
Yes, he could work more productions for Vox. This would work great.
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A job well done, Alastor.
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Once that was finished, he went back to his seat. He still hadn't been dismissed by Vox yet, but he didn't take another drop of the whiskey. Instead, he curled up with his phone, carefully tapping through his emails and schedule. An extra rehearsal here, accepting a shooting schedule change there, so on and so forth until the battery died. Then he finally closed his eyes to take a nap of his own.