The spark flit between his antennae despite the souring of his screen. "I'm stating a fact! I have people who research this sort of thing: What trends, the strength of them, how long they've lasted in search of patterns and how to keep interest. You're also popular, though I can't exactly fathom why, so mash the two data points together, and there you go."
He drank, let the chilled liquor soothe a throat that was feeling raw and dry, especially as the nicotine was leaving his system.
"...You did far more drooling than me last week, anyway," he added coolly, and swirled the glass.
The last comment earned an angry bit of feedback and pop, but nothing sharper.
"Yes, well, my particular brand of degeneracy doesn't grant me insight to the degeneracy rampant in the Sinner population at large, I suppose," Alastor rebuffed, reaching for his glass again and scratching at the lip of it instead of drinking. "The beastly Novembers aside. Ugh. Pathetic."
He tipped the glass enough to relieve it of one of its ice cubes, and quietly crunched away as he listened. Then he shrugged a shoulder. "You know they'd probably stick you with the same shit if you went upstairs after you died, too. If they're not all boy scouts and mormons or whatever up there, anyway."
But he blinked and looked over. Guy could hold his liquor, but he was nursing it. He was usually three deep by the time he finished his first, something he'd note with a laugh way back when.
"...Blondie get you practicing some kind of sobriety purity crap now? How am I outdrinking you?"
Yet you seem to answer to her and stick with her. ...What's your deal?? What does she have on you?
Maybe he should put a few more pins in that tacky shack.
"HAHAH! Riiight, riight- Breaking News: Radio Demon afflicted with what the kids like to call tummy troubles. What does this mean for your radio broadcasts for the quarter? Is 5G to blame, as expert crackpots are claiming? All this and more, tonight at 6 sharp!"
The initial shock faded away to another belly laugh, and a hand slapping the countertop twice.
"Okay- okay- Point one: Fuck you! Point two, and I cannot stress this enough: NOBODY prepares you for how strong the fuckin' liquor is here in Hell! I still wonder if they put that beelzejuice in my cup somehow."
Alastor laughed as well, trailing it off with a tired 'hmmm' before he picked his glass up properly again and instead of drinking it, tilted it over Vox's glass and topped off his 'pal' with what had remained of Alastor's.
"The violent sick must've been all that saved you from a crippling addiction."
"Yeah, well, heaving so hard that you have to check after for any lost internal organs is enough to sober anyone from overdoing it."
Not one of his best moments, sure. But he quirked a brow while the rest of Alastor's drink joined his. No remark? No quip? It was enough to have him forget his remark about deer backwash.
A thought helplessly bubbled up in his mind. It was enough that he brought the glass to his lips and drank without comment, doing nothing to mask the sparks in his antennae whenever he was deepest in thought.
"'Fair's fair' aside, I..." He drummed a metallic claw on the glass. "...Liked... this."
He paused. He let the little voice be ungagged for a second. "I mean, you scare the shit out of all of Hell as it is, and Blondie can't be a good drink and dance partner. We both know that. ...If you're bored out of your mind of the kumbaya at some point... I can open another evening for something more your speed."
Could he spin it, if he had to... Alastor remained silent in thought, considering the ramifications. Rosie wouldn't like him dallying around, but she also let him work within the confines of the deal.
He'd kept things quiet about their tryst. About his rut - even if he had every reason to gloat and take advantage. And yet here he was, not pushing, not asking, not for anything besides... this.
Alastor isn't soft. Not sentimental. But a break away from the Hotel, the princess and her ridiculous plan, the fools that he was in charge of...
"Well, I suppose so long as my job at the Hotel doesn't keep me too busy. Such persistent media hounds snuffling about all day certainly limits how often I can leave the place unattended."
"And I've just about got an entire city to run! Aren't we a pair of busy little bees...?" One last tip, and he drained the rest of his glass. He always liked the little clink of ice.
Vox sighed his satisfaction. The guy vexed him on days that ended in Y, but he knew his liquor. He knew his music.
He was inspiring.
His stomach twisted with the thought. The voice was grabbed by the shoulders and held deep into a handy bathtub, allowed to scream, bubble and struggle again.
Vox pushed his seat back and stood. "So it's time I buzzed back to the 9-5. Got an expo coming up, and I've got investors what need their annual buttering up around the corner. It's nothing on your November, of course, but there's my yearly pain in the ass."
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sugaronthecream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
divinetree2025-10-07 08:11 pm
no subject
"I see your game now. You're looking for more from me to drool about like a dog. Aren't I enough, old friend?"
no subject
He drank, let the chilled liquor soothe a throat that was feeling raw and dry, especially as the nicotine was leaving his system.
"...You did far more drooling than me last week, anyway," he added coolly, and swirled the glass.
no subject
"Yes, well, my particular brand of degeneracy doesn't grant me insight to the degeneracy rampant in the Sinner population at large, I suppose," Alastor rebuffed, reaching for his glass again and scratching at the lip of it instead of drinking. "The beastly Novembers aside. Ugh. Pathetic."
no subject
He tipped the glass enough to relieve it of one of its ice cubes, and quietly crunched away as he listened. Then he shrugged a shoulder. "You know they'd probably stick you with the same shit if you went upstairs after you died, too. If they're not all boy scouts and mormons or whatever up there, anyway."
But he blinked and looked over. Guy could hold his liquor, but he was nursing it. He was usually three deep by the time he finished his first, something he'd note with a laugh way back when.
"...Blondie get you practicing some kind of sobriety purity crap now? How am I outdrinking you?"
no subject
no subject
Maybe he should put a few more pins in that tacky shack.
"HAHAH! Riiight, riight- Breaking News: Radio Demon afflicted with what the kids like to call tummy troubles. What does this mean for your radio broadcasts for the quarter? Is 5G to blame, as expert crackpots are claiming? All this and more, tonight at 6 sharp!"
no subject
He wasn't even there for that - he just ended up catching the clip.
"The chromatic aberration in it, too-- hahahaha! I thought you'd sick yourself to second death!"
no subject
"Okay- okay- Point one: Fuck you! Point two, and I cannot stress this enough: NOBODY prepares you for how strong the fuckin' liquor is here in Hell! I still wonder if they put that beelzejuice in my cup somehow."
no subject
"The violent sick must've been all that saved you from a crippling addiction."
no subject
Not one of his best moments, sure. But he quirked a brow while the rest of Alastor's drink joined his. No remark? No quip? It was enough to have him forget his remark about deer backwash.
A thought helplessly bubbled up in his mind. It was enough that he brought the glass to his lips and drank without comment, doing nothing to mask the sparks in his antennae whenever he was deepest in thought.
"'Fair's fair' aside, I..." He drummed a metallic claw on the glass. "...Liked... this."
He paused. He let the little voice be ungagged for a second. "I mean, you scare the shit out of all of Hell as it is, and Blondie can't be a good drink and dance partner. We both know that. ...If you're bored out of your mind of the kumbaya at some point... I can open another evening for something more your speed."
no subject
Could he spin it, if he had to... Alastor remained silent in thought, considering the ramifications. Rosie wouldn't like him dallying around, but she also let him work within the confines of the deal.
He'd kept things quiet about their tryst. About his rut - even if he had every reason to gloat and take advantage. And yet here he was, not pushing, not asking, not for anything besides... this.
Alastor isn't soft. Not sentimental. But a break away from the Hotel, the princess and her ridiculous plan, the fools that he was in charge of...
"Well, I suppose so long as my job at the Hotel doesn't keep me too busy. Such persistent media hounds snuffling about all day certainly limits how often I can leave the place unattended."
no subject
Vox sighed his satisfaction. The guy vexed him on days that ended in Y, but he knew his liquor. He knew his music.
His stomach twisted with the thought. The voice was grabbed by the shoulders and held deep into a handy bathtub, allowed to scream, bubble and struggle again.
Vox pushed his seat back and stood. "So it's time I buzzed back to the 9-5. Got an expo coming up, and I've got investors what need their annual buttering up around the corner. It's nothing on your November, of course, but there's my yearly pain in the ass."
no subject
The thoughts kept Alastor quiet for a bit, but he eventually shrugged. Played nonchalant while Vox kept glancing at him oh so hopefully.
"I suppose we'll see," he finally said.
You need to cut this off now, before you have to cut him down again.