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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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.