"Good boy. I appreciate you're being so well-behaved to keep the child safe," Alastor mocked, reaching over his shoulder to pinch the corner of Vox's monitor the way a mother would pinch a child's cheek. "You wouldn't want to show all of Hell that you're incapable of taking care of your own, after all. How irritating would it be to have people questioning your competence in creating a safe environment."
Easy. The man was so, so easy. Hopefully his child could learn just how easily to twist their father around their finger, too... hmm, especially if they end up having a daughter.
"They can detest and question me all they like - it's you who's trying to sell the image of trust, after all."
Oh my god, the way his stomach twisted- There was the fizzle and pop of static with the way the colors shifted across his face, a bright cyan hue. It left him numb to the grab, the cheeky little pinch.
"I'm-" Whoa. Too lofi. Let's refresh with a blink, try that again. Pride. Cocky pride. That's his go-to way of smoothing the speed bumps-
"You realize I've had Pentagram City in the palm of my hand for over fifty years, right? I'm a household name. You focus on your end of things."
"I always do. That's why I came straight here, after all."
Well... in truth, he'd been panicked. There were probably quite a few other avenues he could've taken, each with their own risk and reward, including finding refuge with the bleeding heart Princess.
But in that moment, getting that confirmation for the upteenth time over, he found himself immediately rushing to Vox.
...Well, Vox was responsible for this situation - better end up here with this sacrifice of his secrets than spending the pregnancy endlessly dodging Vox trying to claim ownership of the child or trying to hide it from him. Yes, this was the path of least resistance.
"And look at that, you really were the right choice! Keep it up, Vincent, and maybe the year will go by with no extra complications."
Vox stiffened briefly, and made a face. He was particularly used to 'my dear' or 'baby', or an 'old pal'. It was just how Alastor worked. However, his real name was rare enough that he almost felt more wary for it.
"I can handle you and always have, even when you keep me guessing. I knocked you up, didn't I? It's just too bad the fighting can't really happen anymore... my victim sheet goes across the gender spectrum, but I can't say I've got the stomach for swinging at somebody in your condition."
"For once, we agree!" Alastor chuckled - he'd always drawn a line in the sand about kids. Kids were... kids. They were innocent - they hadn't dug themselves into their life paths, yet.
That's why this one, growing in him - he wasn't going to cross the line there. That was a strength that women had that Alastor simply didn't.
"So sweet of you to stay your hand when I lost my temper and tore out your throat. Though, darling, you should eat less trashy food - you've got a flavor to you besides the tang of electricity. Set a good example for your little one~"
Vox's monitor brightened a bit. He couldn't help staying his hand when he was being pushed back and climbed over, which soundly beat the fuck out of anything in the fantasies he totally didn't have, shut up--
"Keep that sometimes to biweekly and I won't begrudge you," Alastor poked at Vox, a black tendril pulling the box of fries from the desk.
"And research. I won't be able to keep books on me lest someone catch sight of me reading something suspicious - I have enough to juggle just reading up on pregnancy care itself."
He had a brief snicker. "What for?? Future taste tests, you fuckin' weirdo?"
He will ignore the tingle that flit up his spine, sufficiently swiping the mirth from his face as he instead completely focused on the rest of the topic instead.
With a cocky head swaggle, he conjured four small squares a light. He took each and tossed them out, where they stretched and settled into a projected screen revealing a curated reading list, blogs from recommended nutritionists and even a rundown and analysis of the functions of the cocktail of typically prescribed prenatal vitamins. Boy, his algorithm would be FUCKED if he didn't know his way around VPNs and secure connections.
"Hmmmm," Alastor hummed instead of answering. It was the more diplomatic response, really - rather than picking a fight about how Vox really is quite lucky there are no other demons able to read the radio waves or that are particularly nosy.
Then again, he will end up obviously appearing with a child of some strange form, so... it wouldn't matter much for Vox, would it.
Hmm.
"Very well. I'm going to go back to my radio tower and endure the rest of the sick before my appetite properly returns," he grumbled, feeling the fatigue of the heightened panic attack AND the vomiting AND the flash of white-hot anger AND the frustrating confusion collapsing on him.
Ah, right, and that whole thing where pregnancy makes one lethargic anyway.
...This is going to be a miserable ten months.
"Do keep out of trouble. Our Deal means nothing if you do something foolhardy. Rosie is the most dangerous Overlord on her side of the Pentagram."
The holograms dissolved in a small shower of light as he scoffed.
"Foolhardy nothing- There are plenty of ways to bury someone, and all without lifting a fucking finger." He turned, and walked to his tank. He paused and let the soft blue glow bathe him, his own comforting color, and folded his arms behind his back.
"She makes any sort of move, and I can turn all of Hell against her."
"Just remember it's not just you or I on the line for failure." Alastor warned, glancing over his shoulder. "For the child at least, put aside your Icarus and instead play Daedalus. I'll update you later this week."
Only lingering a moment longer to stare at Vox's back, Alastor melted away into the shadows - he and Vox both had many, many things to dwell on and think about without being at each other's throats much longer.
Again with the Icarus! When would he EVER try and fly toward the sun? He was measured. He knew what he could do, knew how high he could climb, become so much brighter.
It's why he always had plans. Alastor needed to worry about himself.
Vox offered a nod, and he turned his head to see Alastor go. The CEO paused, listened to the silence for a few more moments before he turned and staggered to his desk.
He sat heavy in his seat that the deer had occupied not long before, eased on his elbows, reached a shaky hand for his nearly forgotten drink.
"Fuck. ...Fuck." He drank, held the glass, drained every last bit of the whiskey in the hopes that it'd cool his hot, dry mouth.
It didn't.
As he lowered the glass and brought his forehead to his unoccupied, quaking hand, he listened instead to his unsteady breathing.
He should be arrogant. Cocky. Very HAW HAW about this whole thing, and in a way, he was.
But here, alone in the office, Vincent Whittman allowed himself to be terrified.
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divinetree2025-10-07 08:11 pm
no subject
Easy. The man was so, so easy. Hopefully his child could learn just how easily to twist their father around their finger, too... hmm, especially if they end up having a daughter.
"They can detest and question me all they like - it's you who's trying to sell the image of trust, after all."
no subject
"I'm-" Whoa. Too lofi. Let's refresh with a blink, try that again. Pride. Cocky pride. That's his go-to way of smoothing the speed bumps-
"You realize I've had Pentagram City in the palm of my hand for over fifty years, right? I'm a household name. You focus on your end of things."
no subject
Well... in truth, he'd been panicked. There were probably quite a few other avenues he could've taken, each with their own risk and reward, including finding refuge with the bleeding heart Princess.
But in that moment, getting that confirmation for the upteenth time over, he found himself immediately rushing to Vox.
...Well, Vox was responsible for this situation - better end up here with this sacrifice of his secrets than spending the pregnancy endlessly dodging Vox trying to claim ownership of the child or trying to hide it from him. Yes, this was the path of least resistance.
"And look at that, you really were the right choice! Keep it up, Vincent, and maybe the year will go by with no extra complications."
no subject
Vox stiffened briefly, and made a face. He was particularly used to 'my dear' or 'baby', or an 'old pal'. It was just how Alastor worked. However, his real name was rare enough that he almost felt more wary for it.
"I can handle you and always have, even when you keep me guessing. I knocked you up, didn't I? It's just too bad the fighting can't really happen anymore... my victim sheet goes across the gender spectrum, but I can't say I've got the stomach for swinging at somebody in your condition."
no subject
That's why this one, growing in him - he wasn't going to cross the line there. That was a strength that women had that Alastor simply didn't.
"So sweet of you to stay your hand when I lost my temper and tore out your throat. Though, darling, you should eat less trashy food - you've got a flavor to you besides the tang of electricity. Set a good example for your little one~"
no subject
"...I eat fine!!"
A beat.
"Sometimes you want a burger, though...!"
no subject
"And research. I won't be able to keep books on me lest someone catch sight of me reading something suspicious - I have enough to juggle just reading up on pregnancy care itself."
no subject
He will ignore the tingle that flit up his spine, sufficiently swiping the mirth from his face as he instead completely focused on the rest of the topic instead.
With a cocky head swaggle, he conjured four small squares a light. He took each and tossed them out, where they stretched and settled into a projected screen revealing a curated reading list, blogs from recommended nutritionists and even a rundown and analysis of the functions of the cocktail of typically prescribed prenatal vitamins. Boy, his algorithm would be FUCKED if he didn't know his way around VPNs and secure connections.
"Uh- who do you think you're talking to? Hm?"
no subject
Then again, he will end up obviously appearing with a child of some strange form, so... it wouldn't matter much for Vox, would it.
Hmm.
"Very well. I'm going to go back to my radio tower and endure the rest of the sick before my appetite properly returns," he grumbled, feeling the fatigue of the heightened panic attack AND the vomiting AND the flash of white-hot anger AND the frustrating confusion collapsing on him.
Ah, right, and that whole thing where pregnancy makes one lethargic anyway.
...This is going to be a miserable ten months.
"Do keep out of trouble. Our Deal means nothing if you do something foolhardy. Rosie is the most dangerous Overlord on her side of the Pentagram."
no subject
"Foolhardy nothing- There are plenty of ways to bury someone, and all without lifting a fucking finger." He turned, and walked to his tank. He paused and let the soft blue glow bathe him, his own comforting color, and folded his arms behind his back.
"She makes any sort of move, and I can turn all of Hell against her."
no subject
Only lingering a moment longer to stare at Vox's back, Alastor melted away into the shadows - he and Vox both had many, many things to dwell on and think about without being at each other's throats much longer.
no subject
It's why he always had plans. Alastor needed to worry about himself.
Vox offered a nod, and he turned his head to see Alastor go. The CEO paused, listened to the silence for a few more moments before he turned and staggered to his desk.
He sat heavy in his seat that the deer had occupied not long before, eased on his elbows, reached a shaky hand for his nearly forgotten drink.
"Fuck. ...Fuck." He drank, held the glass, drained every last bit of the whiskey in the hopes that it'd cool his hot, dry mouth.
It didn't.
As he lowered the glass and brought his forehead to his unoccupied, quaking hand, he listened instead to his unsteady breathing.
He should be arrogant. Cocky. Very HAW HAW about this whole thing, and in a way, he was.
But here, alone in the office, Vincent Whittman allowed himself to be terrified.