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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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.