He'd replied so quickly that, just for a second, Vox's expression fell. But upon a quick refresh, he was all professionalism once again. He smoothed down his coat.
"...Whatever the case, I do have plans that concern you, and you would benefit from hearing them." He'll have worked so hard on his drawings and slides, and it'd be a waste not to have them seen.
His foot bobbed anew.
"Anyway, part of Rosie's end of the Deal is secrecy surrounding the baby, so our immediate concern is to make sure the circle of people who know about Alastor's condition doesn't get any bigger. You've all been pretty damn good about it so far, and I appreciate it. I understand it's not easy."
He opened his arms a bit and looked between the others. "Do any of us know anyone else who tends to be nosy as fuck that we should all know about?"
A beat. Let's see... Husk and Niffty were accounted for.
...Oh god.
"I know Mimzy hasn't been seen a while, needing a favor from you. Will our luck run out there?" He sees where your hands are, Al. He's shifting the topic a bit.
"I had to tell her to not bring her troubles to the Hotel and only bother returning should it be to give redemption a shot - I'm afraid I haven't heard from her since," Alastor glowered a bit darker. "But I know the woman, and she has no intentions of changing herself or how she uses others."
...Wow. That's a marked difference from how Alastor used to talk about Mimzy, who seemed to be able to do little to nothing wrong if you'd asked Alastor back in the day.
"Just kill whatever useless chaff are orbiting her and send her on her way - she'll shush up and be incurious as ever."
That caught him by surprise. Every visit was a hug, so much chatter as Mimzy obnoxiously orbited Al and chattered on about this and about that. He wouldn't forget the remarks the woman sent his way, or the way he felt the need to slip a rope around her neck. Being friends with Alastor was about the last thing that kept her alive, clearly.
But... were they not, anymore? Ah, not NOT enough to spare her some wrath. Vox spluttered a laugh with the instruction. Oh, he knew about what happened that day when Mimzy visited- Angel Dust told him SO much~
"HAHAHA! Don't need to tell me twice! Oh, what a time it'll be to be able to cut loose...!! It was mobsters a couple of times, right? Like the actual Greed mob? Hilarious! Or was it that one casino that she ran up a debt with? I forget the order, but I remember the mess that was left of them...!"
"Yes, well. A bunch of loan shark Sinners - the sort of sad saps who were so unremarkable in life that their forms in death are indistinguishable. They taste more sulfuric than the hellborn from Greed, those sharks taste outright muddy and toxic," Alastor grouched, ears pinning. Velvette and Valentino shot each other looks - who knew the Radio Demon would be so bitchy about a falling out, after how shitty he'd treated Vox...?
"The point is, so long as you solve her problem, she won't care to look into where I am. No need to worry about her."
He felt a pang, his second in a row, now. Alastor was definitely pissed with the flapper girl. They seemed close. He seemed to always clean up her messes, and Vox was now charged with doing it if she comes sniffing around. But... why didn't...? Even if the truth of his leash with Rosie was known to him, still, he... didn't have regrets, did he? She'd broken their trust and he was sore about it, yet would still bail her out of a jam.
But a joke about the A-Vees was shot down, covered in gasoline, and given a lit cigarette with no hesitation.
Don't you go breaking hearts all over again!
...But what about mine...?
Vox chuckled and leaned back, arms crossed behind his head. Unbothered. "Duly noted. Then I guess that's that!"
He glanced between Velvette and Valentino, not desperate for anything else to focus on. "Any trouble around the car while we were gone?"
Attention off of the topic and off of him, Alastor relaxed again as Velvette shrugged and Valentino started whining.
"Ugh!! Those WEIRDOS just kept coming over and STARING. They can't see through the tinted windows, but it was like they knew exactly where to look - especially the creepy little kid ones!"
"They're curious. Modern, flashily dressed people and vehicles by default have the okay from Rosie to mark as prey - they were waiting to see if you all stepped over the line," Alastor explained plainly. "A cannibal's hunger and taste for new flavor palates is never-ending, after all. You were at least clever enough to stay in your little car."
"Oh, fuck off with the attitude, discount buck - you PICKED living in the tower so don't be an ungrateful little bitch about it," Velvette scolded, earning a placating gesture from Alastor of holding his hands up in surrender.
"Yes, yes, where are my manners? Forgive me, my dear."
"GOD you are just as shitty and insincere as Vox's half-assed apologies. We could always dump you right back out in that town if you want it so much."
"No, that won't be necessary! It may be quite a safe place to go into hiding, sure... but for the little one's sake, should something go awry, I believe I'd rather have a medical intervention that doesn't involve a chainsaw."
He leaned his head back and focused on the ceiling. Velvette was definitely concerned, so he wouldn't fight any dressing down she wanted to do on Alastor. Still, it was a relief to know that other than creepy child staring, there wasn't so much as a scuff on the other Vees nor the car. Not that they could get in, anyway...
Vox couldn't help the wandering mind, though. He couldn't help the growing urge to find his mini-bar and round out the way working on his slides and waiting for intoxication to bring him some sleep for the fatigue that crept into him after all of the fretting he'd been doing. Fuck... he needed to finalize an agenda and a pitch for the princess for monday, too. Ethan could handle all the phone calls...
"The concerning thing is- I can't even tell if you're full of shit or if they're really that antiquated." He raised his head again and went for his phone, shot a few messages out. One to Angel, three to Ethan. Ah, the sweet cocoon of work. Meanwhile, Al can have his extra long bath and get off his hooves a bit.
"Come now, you know my punchlines are much more artfully crafted than that! There are a lot of pleasant benefits to a more antiquated location, such as avoiding over-stimulation or excess vulgarities... but I will grant modernity its advancements in the medical field. If nothing else, it's a deciding factor in the health of the child."
"Yeah, probably has nooothing to do with getting painkillers."
"Well! It isn't completely irrelevant. Besides - while the cannibals are decent enough company, present company is more important to me, given you will be involved in raising the child."
"I think you're just too used to being a boring old man, ciervo~. There's plenty of relaxation and relief to be had with us. Trust us~" Valentino purred, getting a slight roll of the eyes from Alastor.
"I suppose thus far you are all doing a decent job of earning something like trust, yes."
His grip tightened briefly, enough that the case to his phone formed a fresh, silvery line crack across the back.
"You left without a fucking word." He didn't shout, but when he lifted his gaze from the screen, his left eye was swirling.
"Just an invitation from Rosie, like I'm coming down for tea. You're not stupid, Al- you know how many ways this whole day could have gone! How many times have scenarios just like these wind up with the missing person in fucking P͍̮̌̓ͤ̊̉I͉̰͒͌̆͞EC͇̝E͖͕̜ͪ̑ͦS̖̰̉̾̀!̈́͋̑?̟ͯͥ I went in expecting the worst. I went in expecting a fight, or some fucked-up negotiation for whatever was possibly left of YOUand the kid!"
Cables snaked out, slithering across the floor. Interior lights of the vehicle began to flicker.
"I have no problem playing House with the princess under a fucking contract," he hissed. "And I also have no problem with what wound up happening, even eating that disgusting fucking soup..."
But the venom rose as electricity rolled down his body. "But what I do have a problem with is how, even away from that town and in this car now, you still feel the need to bullshit us, like what happened wasn't a huge and very risky meeting! 'More important to you'... 'earning something like trust'... just... FUCK. YOU."
He flexed his claws before him. "I͢͠ W͊ͤA̧̡̩̎̾̏̓S̀ Ẇ͢Ǫ̷͍̣̌́͐R͈ͣR̺̼͐̍͡I̧͎E̱̝̐D̴̥̋ S̮ͭͫIC̭̝͖̀͘Ǩ͍ͦ A͇͓̓ͯB̷͚̠̿͛̚͢O̸̜̞UT̬͝ Ỵ̫̇̓O̧̘̬̾ͮ̈́͐Ù̒͑͡!̆"
He sucked in a breath, and clutched his head. "-WE! ...WE were worried sick, and you... you couldn't, just for one fucking MINUTE, just...!"
It was enough to stun Alastor silent, for a moment, save for the noise of feedback and a slight bugle - the demon bristled, and only bristled more when Velvette snapped a few times to back up Vox. Go off.
Thousands of arguments burned in Alastor's chest, fighting to erupt like the flashover of a house fire. Of fucking course he knew things were dangerous, of course he had been scared witless, himself...!! Why else would he have done... anything he's done so far? Made that Deal, made these arrangements, sacrifice dignity and respect--??
Angrily, he rose from his seat and practically prowled to Vox - both Velvette and Valentino bolted upright themselves in anticipation of breaking up a fight, but Alastor wasn't starting one - he just caged Vox in between his arms, gripping the seat behind the television demon with his claws tight enough to slice through expensive leather.
To Vox's credit, he didn't shrink back as Alastor advanced, but let his hands fall away from his head as he was then framed between two arms. He could hear the quiet split of leather behind him, but his gaze was unflinching.
What, did the guy expect him to shrink back and THANK him for being picked? Maybe he laughed about that when he offered to help Al with his heat, but so much has changed since then. His whole 'dote to piss him off' game dissolved, shaped into a mirror and forced Vox to take a good, long look at himself.
"...Out of convenience."
He wanted to reach up and grab his own button-up that Alastor wore, keep him there. But Rosie had done enough leash tugging. Alastor had done enough dancing and being voluntold. Vox would forfeit that, but not this.
"Because I notice that you're still pissed about Mimzy making you her attack dog over and over again, but you still told me to dispatch anybody that comes looking for her blood and not her. I've read those old police reports from your time. You've killed for less. You give a shit about her, even if she uses you."
He instead brought his hands to his own knees, keeping his gaze level. His cables would slowly recede, and the lights would quiet, their circuit uninterrupted.
"I never mind our fights. I welcome them. I enjoy the challenge. You challenge me. But today shows me that nothing has changed in how I feel: That any respect there is has been one-sided. You left, knowing I'd come for you, because I'm 'predictable'. You call me out for a fight, knowing I'd answer, because I'm 'predictable'. And so, when you called for me that night a few months ago... I think back and I wonder if it was because of some quality you saw in me, or if it was that old fallback of 'Vox will do anything I want, because he's Vox'.
"...And 'read between the lines,' huh...? Like how I extrapolated your coming back with us, having a good rapport with us, risking thinking you actually enjoy time with us by calling you an honorary Vee, just to have it thrown back in my face?"
He laughed then, thin and humorless. His voice was losing fidelity and fast, almost out of some horror that he's said so much already after bottling it for almost a hundred years.
Alastor gripped and slashed more of the seat, swaying a bit from the car turning. He knew Velvette was at his back, a precautionary arrow pointed at his shoulder - he wouldn't need either arm to carry a child, after all. He knew Valentino was struggling with whether or not to backhand him like the moth would any other whore disrespecting him.
But he didn't care. He didn't dare say more - don't make him, don't make him say what the truth is to anyone else. Don't make him have to say to them that he was forced to leave. That the Radio Demon could be forced with a simple order from Rosie.
Unsteady, Alastor lowered to a knee in front of Vox. Claws trembling, he sunk them into the seat on either side of the other man. He felt dizzy with anger, with how absolutely out of control everything was - and he didn't WANT this.
"How many times must I..."
The question died on his tongue, mouth stretching back into an upset sneer.
"...You're the one that craves to be the one with a leash on me."
Alastor lowering to a knee before him should have thrilled him like nothing else ever could. Instead, in the wake of knowing about Rosie and seeing yet again just how approachable she was, Vox was... unnerved.
Control. Leashes. Deals. To think, again, that the great Deal Maker himself was himself a pet.
Vox's heart twisted. What if the plan he had, especially in connection to the Hotel, was just his being convenient and predictable again? If it worked, Alastor would be free. Then, his use and convenience gone, Alastor could simply disappear. Even with their kid, he could always just... go. The thought made him feel a bit ill, terribly angry, even if he was tired of being treated like an idiot for caring.
Was he an idiot for feeling the way he did earlier, when he made Al's hair stand on end and feeling that nostalgic pang?
Was he an idiot for feeling the way he did earlier on the car ride, seeing the others all talking and laughing together?
Then call him the greatest fool in Hell. And he'll kill you for making the accusation.
But here, now, Vox was rendered momentarily speechless. His frown deepened, but there was a minute quiver- sadness? Fury?- to his bottom lip.
"I'm a lot of things, Alastor. I have things that I crave. I have my vices. But when I fell into Hell, when I thought that was it, that stupid, heavy fucking television on my head... someone found me. Someone that inspired me."
His eyes narrowed, but not out of any fury. "Someone that made Hell feel... not quite so bad. Someone that made it worth getting up in the morning, and gave me some of the best years of my afterlife, before... well. But they were free-wheeling, glorious violence. Chaotic. Beau--"
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. No. Ignore that. His scowl deepened. "...But someone I'd put a leash on? Fuck no."
...Alastor could remember the smells of that bar. Those streets, filthy and sulfuric and only worth remembering because he had a pal who knew all of the best jazz tunes. A pal that could keep up, who not only didn't balk at Alastor's violence and rage but reveled in it, someone sick and deranged like him...
"So... I've been thinking, Alastor... with your incredible power and my massive influence--"
He remembered how the rest of the words were... audible, but he couldn't really hear them. Ruling hell together, as partners. His incredible power. Becoming radio and video. His incredible power.
He'd laughed, then - all Alastor could think to do was laugh. He wasn't stupid - he saw the way Vox's face had twisted in pain - but that had only made Alastor angrier.
How dare you? How dare you come so close, a chain hidden behind your back?
"Someone that made Hell feel... not quite so bad. Someone that made it worth getting up in the morning."
Why did that sound so much the way Alastor had felt before that horrible proposal? The idea that things could have... been different. That the gentleness, the agreement to secrecy, the way even in the throes of violent domination those blue claws were so ginger with him... Alastor didn't know how to feel about any of that.
...But he did know one thing. Even if it would be the hardest thing to admit so far.
"...I want you... to be there," he started, staring at the floor of the limosine, at the shoes Vox wore and his own knees on the carpet swaying lightly with the movement of the vehicle. "When I'm at my lowest, unable to protect the little one - I want you there. No one else."
The events of the day had started to pile, loaning to a bone-deep weariness. How anyone can vent their guts and keep going every day was anyone's guess, but it wasn't something Vox knew he could handle... not often, anyway. Though there was so much more he felt like he needed to say, he wasn't sure he was ready for it. It was... too much.
But the scowl faded, and his expression softened when Alastor spoke. His foolish stomach clenched, but... not quite as much as the usual. Because while the man was incredibly frustrating and had many hot and cold days, he knew the rarity of... this. Enough that he saw no need to call bullshit.
Despite a corner of his mind sighing, wondering if he really has just gone irreparably insane (yes), the shoes in his vision moved. They were joined by legs, a waist, the lower part of a body as Vox scooted off the seat and opted to join Alastor on the floor.
Once upon a time, he'd reach out and hang onto him. But today, he instead leaned his head upon the red and black fluff of the other's.
Condescending. Annoying. This bastard... Alastor tilted his head a bit, staring into the screen mere centimeters from his face, still feeling the warm contact in his bangs. He ignored the sound of Velvette sighing, pulling away her arrows now that things seemed de-escalated. He ignored the looming judgmental presence of Valentino, who was still making that slight squeaking sound.
All there was in his field of view was blinding blue and hints of red.
How else could he make it obvious for Vox? For the man he was gambling his chances on right now, and no one else? Silently, the demon felt around for Vox's claws until he grasped them, pulling them to touch his bump.
This is what connects us.
It's not the only thing - but it was a connection. And he was taking it seriously - could Vox at least understand that?
Alastor lifted his head a little and, god damn it, the proximity was driving in a temptation to try and communicate something- everything- what would make him understand why he worried as much as he had, why he was so frustrated. For media demons, why the fuck was talking so hard...?
His arms felt so heavy to him, but in the radio demon's hands, they were so light, so easy to guide. Even if Alastor pulled his hands away, Vox's would remain where they were placed.
This... this was a connection. He didn't doubt that. He seemed to take great care of himself, even bristled against Rosie herself during their meeting in defense of the child they'd made. Vox had to do his part, too.
Another connection, perhaps, wouldn't hurt for right now. Even if he'd made his outburst known, he still adjusted his frequency, sought and connected to that passive channel for output as well as that input. With that buzz too low to hear by the naked ear, he sent along an unmistakable relief.
Relief that he wasn't in pieces. Relief that he was still one whole pain in his ass.
...He knew that feeling. He knew it well - well enough to return the signal, to connect with his own emotions actually matching Vox's for once in his damned afterlife.
Relief that the child was safe. Was growing well enough, without issue. That Vox even seemed excited for them...
...And the feeling was always older than that. Because he could remember feeling the motes of relief when he picked up Vincent's scent after the other disappeared, potentially ambushed, potentially killed - but he'd always felt that little sigh of relief that his pal was strong, that his pal always came out on top.
...And when he didn't, Alastor made sure the offender would pay.
... ... ...
...Why were they so angry with each other? The frightened part of him hisses and snarls, insists that it's obvious, but...
Swallow the fear. Be strong for those relying on you.
It's what Alastor tells himself as much as he's telling Vox now. The other Vees were hovering, watching tentatively, uncertainly - disturbed by the two powerful demons having had a very emotional spat.
Afraid. ...He'd been afraid, and was still afraid, wasn't he? He knew they'd lucked out when it came to Rosie, and a good part of it surely had to do with the swift idea of Vox claiming ownership of the child's soul. But he was still curious as to what the hotel had to do with anything. Fortunately, his physical presence there meant he didn't need to rely on... as many... cameras. The hotel was going to be the key to getting Alastor out of that fucking Deal.
Then he really, truly would be the inspiration he saw countless decades ago: Unfettered chaos and violence unlike anything this world and others had ever seen. So, so beautiful.
Their angle tempted him once more. He was so close. But... not in front of the others...
Vox took a breath and did what had to be the most difficult maneuver he'd done in weeks: He drew away, raising his head. Then he seemed to notice the others, how they stood.
"...We're fiiiine...! Just a little- little bit of nerves from the meeting...!"
"Mustn't underestimate dear Rosie, after all," Alastor concurred. Velvette was watching him like a hawk (smart girl), and Valentino clicked his tongue and cooed, putting his hands on Vox to pull him up off of the floor.
"Come on, Amorcito, you look good on your knees but not like this," the moth attempted to joke.
There was a slight pop from Alastor, who was left to get on his feet himself - but other than the subtle sign he seemed at ease. Can't appear weak, after all! He waved his hand at Valentino, gesturing for him to move back. "Scoot."
"What?"
"I said scoot. Scoot over, both of you," he ordered, ignoring the creaky moth-squeaks from Valentino so that he could take a seat on Vox's other side rather than joining Velvette. If he had to be more overt for Vox's sake, then maybe he ought to do just that. "Hmm... I am a bit tired, so I guess I'll indulge in a burger tonight instead. See what all of the hype is for. I hope you don't mind, Valentino, Velvette."
"Psh. If you two fuck your feelings out at least that'll be something closer to functional."
"Not exactly what I was implying, but it has been quite an emotional few days."
The joke earned a small, amused snort. But an antennae gave a small twitch. Pop-?
Vox's blink was owl-eyed, but he scooted almost automatically. It's fine. No problem. Just framed on both sides by disturbingly attractive men, he'll survive. He recovered with talk of food.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He knew what place to call, but... could they make burgers that weren't. Uh. ...Suuuper sloppy?? Because this was Alastor, after all. Standards obnoxiously high! And he was eating for two-
Vox quirked a brow at Velvette and he leaned back, one leg crossed over the other. He grinned. "Oh...? Sounding like an expert in the field, Vel- what lucky lady have you been sharing your feelings with...? Anybody I know?"
"Ugh, I fucking wish-- I'm so busy with shows and keeping shit running that I haven't had a chance to pick someone out," Velvette griped, much to the amusement of Valentino.
"Well, my dear, you did claim the title of 'backbone of the Vees' - you should grab a few of the souls under your name, though, and delegate."
"Yeah right, all we have are dogshit prats that can't tell their asses from their elbows. Then I'd have to leave them to do the shit and then do it over for them."
"Hah! True, it's difficult to find competence here in Hell. And it really never gets any better. I'd say go prowling around Husker's old stomping grounds - gamblers are always desperate, and the card-counters can be quite useful."
"Huh. What's the story with you getting his soul, anyway?"
"I'll tell some other time!" Alastor promised - and with the limo finally coming to a halt, Alastor waggled his fingers at the other two Vees. "Tomorrow I'll have that gumbo done by the evening - come with your appetites, you hear?"
He nodded to concur. It really was hard to find good help in Hell- even Ethan had too many moments of 'why the fuck did I hire you', but even then he knew his options were exceedingly few... especially with confidentiality on the line. Especially especially now.
He'd be interested in hearing Husker's old tale. He knew the guy, was aware of his ownership, and even drank at one of his casinos. But he'd like to hear how it REALLY went down.
The limo pulled to a stop, and Vox was quiet before the doors were pulled open. All he needed was but a few seconds to double, triple, quadruple check security systems and if everything else was in order. Then he climbed out, and shared a passive look to the doormen.
Alastor was invisible.
He clapped his hands. "Welp! Home sweet home! I'm sure we've all got matters to attend to, but you all know my line is open if you need me for anything."
He offered a hand to aid the shorter V, the (much, much) taller V, then A from the car.
"As for you..." Vox didn't let go once Alastor exited the vehicle, however.
He played a quick electro-swing ditty over his speakers as he gave the red demon a twirl, a dip, and used the motion to hook his free arm under Alastor's knees.
The media demon is off like a shot, carrying the radio demon princess-style up the steps and into the tower proper. He's laughing like a madman.
A spin! He could roll with that. A dip, of course, Alastor almost instinctively wrapped his arms around Vox's shoulders for it.
Getting scooped up, though - that got a surprised bleat from him, one that Valentino made some remark about but Alastor could only stare as he was hurried away in a whirlwind of motion.
Stunned, he clung on, brain racing to catch up-- the overcoat could only hide so much when he was positioned like this...!!
(Not that there was an issue - not a soul in Voxtek would even perceive him or question their boss' jovial attitude, letting it all pass right by. The benefits of hypnosis!)
The music continued to play, a triumph, as he scurried along with the other man and their bundle in tow. He'd quickly connected to the tower's network to open the doors remotely, activate the elevator...
His own whirlwind stopped when he was forced to pause in the elevator, which he stepped into and spun on the end of a finely-polished shoe before he came to a stop.
Well.
Not entirely. He was toe-tapping, shuffling along in place, as the doors closed and they made their way up. No risk teleporting when one wasn't sure how his electricity would affect the baby! Still, this just meant he could hold him like this for longer.
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sugaronthecream) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
divinetree2025-10-07 08:11 pm
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"...Whatever the case, I do have plans that concern you, and you would benefit from hearing them." He'll have worked so hard on his drawings and slides, and it'd be a waste not to have them seen.
His foot bobbed anew.
"Anyway, part of Rosie's end of the Deal is secrecy surrounding the baby, so our immediate concern is to make sure the circle of people who know about Alastor's condition doesn't get any bigger. You've all been pretty damn good about it so far, and I appreciate it. I understand it's not easy."
He opened his arms a bit and looked between the others. "Do any of us know anyone else who tends to be nosy as fuck that we should all know about?"
A beat. Let's see... Husk and Niffty were accounted for.
...Oh god.
"I know Mimzy hasn't been seen a while, needing a favor from you. Will our luck run out there?" He sees where your hands are, Al. He's shifting the topic a bit.
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...Wow. That's a marked difference from how Alastor used to talk about Mimzy, who seemed to be able to do little to nothing wrong if you'd asked Alastor back in the day.
"Just kill whatever useless chaff are orbiting her and send her on her way - she'll shush up and be incurious as ever."
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But... were they not, anymore? Ah, not NOT enough to spare her some wrath. Vox spluttered a laugh with the instruction. Oh, he knew about what happened that day when Mimzy visited- Angel Dust told him SO much~
"HAHAHA! Don't need to tell me twice! Oh, what a time it'll be to be able to cut loose...!! It was mobsters a couple of times, right? Like the actual Greed mob? Hilarious! Or was it that one casino that she ran up a debt with? I forget the order, but I remember the mess that was left of them...!"
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"The point is, so long as you solve her problem, she won't care to look into where I am. No need to worry about her."
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But a joke about the A-Vees was shot down, covered in gasoline, and given a lit cigarette with no hesitation.
Don't you go breaking hearts all over again!
...But what about mine...?
Vox chuckled and leaned back, arms crossed behind his head. Unbothered. "Duly noted. Then I guess that's that!"
He glanced between Velvette and Valentino, not desperate for anything else to focus on. "Any trouble around the car while we were gone?"
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"Ugh!! Those WEIRDOS just kept coming over and STARING. They can't see through the tinted windows, but it was like they knew exactly where to look - especially the creepy little kid ones!"
"They're curious. Modern, flashily dressed people and vehicles by default have the okay from Rosie to mark as prey - they were waiting to see if you all stepped over the line," Alastor explained plainly. "A cannibal's hunger and taste for new flavor palates is never-ending, after all. You were at least clever enough to stay in your little car."
"Oh, fuck off with the attitude, discount buck - you PICKED living in the tower so don't be an ungrateful little bitch about it," Velvette scolded, earning a placating gesture from Alastor of holding his hands up in surrender.
"Yes, yes, where are my manners? Forgive me, my dear."
"GOD you are just as shitty and insincere as Vox's half-assed apologies. We could always dump you right back out in that town if you want it so much."
"No, that won't be necessary! It may be quite a safe place to go into hiding, sure... but for the little one's sake, should something go awry, I believe I'd rather have a medical intervention that doesn't involve a chainsaw."
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Vox couldn't help the wandering mind, though. He couldn't help the growing urge to find his mini-bar and round out the way working on his slides and waiting for intoxication to bring him some sleep for the fatigue that crept into him after all of the fretting he'd been doing. Fuck... he needed to finalize an agenda and a pitch for the princess for monday, too. Ethan could handle all the phone calls...
"The concerning thing is- I can't even tell if you're full of shit or if they're really that antiquated." He raised his head again and went for his phone, shot a few messages out. One to Angel, three to Ethan. Ah, the sweet cocoon of work. Meanwhile, Al can have his extra long bath and get off his hooves a bit.
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"Yeah, probably has nooothing to do with getting painkillers."
"Well! It isn't completely irrelevant. Besides - while the cannibals are decent enough company, present company is more important to me, given you will be involved in raising the child."
"I think you're just too used to being a boring old man, ciervo~. There's plenty of relaxation and relief to be had with us. Trust us~" Valentino purred, getting a slight roll of the eyes from Alastor.
"I suppose thus far you are all doing a decent job of earning something like trust, yes."
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"You left without a fucking word." He didn't shout, but when he lifted his gaze from the screen, his left eye was swirling.
"Just an invitation from Rosie, like I'm coming down for tea. You're not stupid, Al- you know how many ways this whole day could have gone! How many times have scenarios just like these wind up with the missing person in fucking P͍̮̌̓ͤ̊̉I͉̰͒͌̆͞EC͇̝E͖͕̜ͪ̑ͦS̖̰̉̾̀!̈́͋̑?̟ͯͥ I went in expecting the worst. I went in expecting a fight, or some fucked-up negotiation for whatever was possibly left of YOU and the kid!"
Cables snaked out, slithering across the floor. Interior lights of the vehicle began to flicker.
"I have no problem playing House with the princess under a fucking contract," he hissed. "And I also have no problem with what wound up happening, even eating that disgusting fucking soup..."
But the venom rose as electricity rolled down his body. "But what I do have a problem with is how, even away from that town and in this car now, you still feel the need to bullshit us, like what happened wasn't a huge and very risky meeting! 'More important to you'... 'earning something like trust'... just... FUCK. YOU."
He flexed his claws before him. "I͢͠ W͊ͤA̧̡̩̎̾̏̓S̀ Ẇ͢Ǫ̷͍̣̌́͐R͈ͣR̺̼͐̍͡I̧͎E̱̝̐D̴̥̋ S̮ͭͫIC̭̝͖̀͘Ǩ͍ͦ A͇͓̓ͯB̷͚̠̿͛̚͢O̸̜̞UT̬͝ Ỵ̫̇̓O̧̘̬̾ͮ̈́͐Ù̒͑͡!̆"
He sucked in a breath, and clutched his head. "-WE! ...WE were worried sick, and you... you couldn't, just for one fucking MINUTE, just...!"
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Thousands of arguments burned in Alastor's chest, fighting to erupt like the flashover of a house fire. Of fucking course he knew things were dangerous, of course he had been scared witless, himself...!! Why else would he have done... anything he's done so far? Made that Deal, made these arrangements, sacrifice dignity and respect--??
Angrily, he rose from his seat and practically prowled to Vox - both Velvette and Valentino bolted upright themselves in anticipation of breaking up a fight, but Alastor wasn't starting one - he just caged Vox in between his arms, gripping the seat behind the television demon with his claws tight enough to slice through expensive leather.
"R̙̈ͥ͋̑e̫̟͎ͣͩͦa̲͋d be̯ͩ̈́t͇̪̪̳ͦͧw̲̠̪ͪeen ̎ṫ̬̙̦͊h̙̰ͬ̿̉eͬͫ lin̜̿͊ȅ̲̹̇̓̎s̯̪ͥͅ, yo̻ǘ̫͇̋̇ ID͖͔͖͓́̂̽İ̗̻̾͂OT͗ͩ.͔͔͎̫̹ͤ͆̋̚"
I was worried sick about you!
You stupid... arrogant, pompous asshole...!
"I chose Y͎̗͈̭O͕̤̾̋̍ͩU̱̱̪ͯ́̋͂̚̚.̳̙͇̍̌̓ͪͫ̇̓̃"
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What, did the guy expect him to shrink back and THANK him for being picked? Maybe he laughed about that when he offered to help Al with his heat, but so much has changed since then. His whole 'dote to piss him off' game dissolved, shaped into a mirror and forced Vox to take a good, long look at himself.
"...Out of convenience."
He wanted to reach up and grab his own button-up that Alastor wore, keep him there. But Rosie had done enough leash tugging. Alastor had done enough dancing and being voluntold. Vox would forfeit that, but not this.
"Because I notice that you're still pissed about Mimzy making you her attack dog over and over again, but you still told me to dispatch anybody that comes looking for her blood and not her. I've read those old police reports from your time. You've killed for less. You give a shit about her, even if she uses you."
He instead brought his hands to his own knees, keeping his gaze level. His cables would slowly recede, and the lights would quiet, their circuit uninterrupted.
"I never mind our fights. I welcome them. I enjoy the challenge. You challenge me. But today shows me that nothing has changed in how I feel: That any respect there is has been one-sided. You left, knowing I'd come for you, because I'm 'predictable'. You call me out for a fight, knowing I'd answer, because I'm 'predictable'. And so, when you called for me that night a few months ago... I think back and I wonder if it was because of some quality you saw in me, or if it was that old fallback of 'Vox will do anything I want, because he's Vox'.
"...And 'read between the lines,' huh...? Like how I extrapolated your coming back with us, having a good rapport with us, risking thinking you actually enjoy time with us by calling you an honorary Vee, just to have it thrown back in my face?"
He laughed then, thin and humorless. His voice was losing fidelity and fast, almost out of some horror that he's said so much already after bottling it for almost a hundred years.
"God, you're so frustrating...!"
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Alastor gripped and slashed more of the seat, swaying a bit from the car turning. He knew Velvette was at his back, a precautionary arrow pointed at his shoulder - he wouldn't need either arm to carry a child, after all. He knew Valentino was struggling with whether or not to backhand him like the moth would any other whore disrespecting him.
But he didn't care. He didn't dare say more - don't make him, don't make him say what the truth is to anyone else. Don't make him have to say to them that he was forced to leave. That the Radio Demon could be forced with a simple order from Rosie.
Unsteady, Alastor lowered to a knee in front of Vox. Claws trembling, he sunk them into the seat on either side of the other man. He felt dizzy with anger, with how absolutely out of control everything was - and he didn't WANT this.
"How many times must I..."
The question died on his tongue, mouth stretching back into an upset sneer.
"...You're the one that craves to be the one with a leash on me."
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Control. Leashes. Deals. To think, again, that the great Deal Maker himself was himself a pet.
Vox's heart twisted. What if the plan he had, especially in connection to the Hotel, was just his being convenient and predictable again? If it worked, Alastor would be free. Then, his use and convenience gone, Alastor could simply disappear. Even with their kid, he could always just... go. The thought made him feel a bit ill, terribly angry, even if he was tired of being treated like an idiot for caring.
Was he an idiot for feeling the way he did earlier, when he made Al's hair stand on end and feeling that nostalgic pang?
Was he an idiot for feeling the way he did earlier on the car ride, seeing the others all talking and laughing together?
Then call him the greatest fool in Hell. And he'll kill you for making the accusation.
But here, now, Vox was rendered momentarily speechless. His frown deepened, but there was a minute quiver- sadness? Fury?- to his bottom lip.
"I'm a lot of things, Alastor. I have things that I crave. I have my vices. But when I fell into Hell, when I thought that was it, that stupid, heavy fucking television on my head... someone found me. Someone that inspired me."
His eyes narrowed, but not out of any fury. "Someone that made Hell feel... not quite so bad. Someone that made it worth getting up in the morning, and gave me some of the best years of my afterlife, before... well. But they were free-wheeling, glorious violence. Chaotic. Beau--"
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. No. Ignore that. His scowl deepened. "...But someone I'd put a leash on? Fuck no."
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...Alastor could remember the smells of that bar. Those streets, filthy and sulfuric and only worth remembering because he had a pal who knew all of the best jazz tunes. A pal that could keep up, who not only didn't balk at Alastor's violence and rage but reveled in it, someone sick and deranged like him...
"So... I've been thinking, Alastor... with your incredible power and my massive influence--"
He remembered how the rest of the words were... audible, but he couldn't really hear them. Ruling hell together, as partners. His incredible power. Becoming radio and video. His incredible power.
He'd laughed, then - all Alastor could think to do was laugh. He wasn't stupid - he saw the way Vox's face had twisted in pain - but that had only made Alastor angrier.
How dare you? How dare you come so close, a chain hidden behind your back?
"Someone that made Hell feel... not quite so bad. Someone that made it worth getting up in the morning."
Why did that sound so much the way Alastor had felt before that horrible proposal? The idea that things could have... been different. That the gentleness, the agreement to secrecy, the way even in the throes of violent domination those blue claws were so ginger with him... Alastor didn't know how to feel about any of that.
...But he did know one thing. Even if it would be the hardest thing to admit so far.
"...I want you... to be there," he started, staring at the floor of the limosine, at the shoes Vox wore and his own knees on the carpet swaying lightly with the movement of the vehicle. "When I'm at my lowest, unable to protect the little one - I want you there. No one else."
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But the scowl faded, and his expression softened when Alastor spoke. His foolish stomach clenched, but... not quite as much as the usual. Because while the man was incredibly frustrating and had many hot and cold days, he knew the rarity of... this. Enough that he saw no need to call bullshit.
Despite a corner of his mind sighing, wondering if he really has just gone irreparably insane (yes), the shoes in his vision moved. They were joined by legs, a waist, the lower part of a body as Vox scooted off the seat and opted to join Alastor on the floor.
Once upon a time, he'd reach out and hang onto him. But today, he instead leaned his head upon the red and black fluff of the other's.
"...Yeah. I'll be there."
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All there was in his field of view was blinding blue and hints of red.
How else could he make it obvious for Vox? For the man he was gambling his chances on right now, and no one else? Silently, the demon felt around for Vox's claws until he grasped them, pulling them to touch his bump.
This is what connects us.
It's not the only thing - but it was a connection. And he was taking it seriously - could Vox at least understand that?
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His arms felt so heavy to him, but in the radio demon's hands, they were so light, so easy to guide. Even if Alastor pulled his hands away, Vox's would remain where they were placed.
This... this was a connection. He didn't doubt that. He seemed to take great care of himself, even bristled against Rosie herself during their meeting in defense of the child they'd made. Vox had to do his part, too.
Another connection, perhaps, wouldn't hurt for right now. Even if he'd made his outburst known, he still adjusted his frequency, sought and connected to that passive channel for output as well as that input. With that buzz too low to hear by the naked ear, he sent along an unmistakable relief.
Relief that he wasn't in pieces. Relief that he was still one whole pain in his ass.
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...He knew that feeling. He knew it well - well enough to return the signal, to connect with his own emotions actually matching Vox's for once in his damned afterlife.
Relief that the child was safe. Was growing well enough, without issue. That Vox even seemed excited for them...
...And the feeling was always older than that. Because he could remember feeling the motes of relief when he picked up Vincent's scent after the other disappeared, potentially ambushed, potentially killed - but he'd always felt that little sigh of relief that his pal was strong, that his pal always came out on top.
...And when he didn't, Alastor made sure the offender would pay.
... ... ...
...Why were they so angry with each other? The frightened part of him hisses and snarls, insists that it's obvious, but...
Swallow the fear. Be strong for those relying on you.
It's what Alastor tells himself as much as he's telling Vox now. The other Vees were hovering, watching tentatively, uncertainly - disturbed by the two powerful demons having had a very emotional spat.
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Then he really, truly would be the inspiration he saw countless decades ago: Unfettered chaos and violence unlike anything this world and others had ever seen. So, so beautiful.
Their angle tempted him once more. He was so close. But... not in front of the others...
Vox took a breath and did what had to be the most difficult maneuver he'd done in weeks: He drew away, raising his head. Then he seemed to notice the others, how they stood.
"...We're fiiiine...! Just a little- little bit of nerves from the meeting...!"
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"Come on, Amorcito, you look good on your knees but not like this," the moth attempted to joke.
There was a slight pop from Alastor, who was left to get on his feet himself - but other than the subtle sign he seemed at ease. Can't appear weak, after all! He waved his hand at Valentino, gesturing for him to move back. "Scoot."
"What?"
"I said scoot. Scoot over, both of you," he ordered, ignoring the creaky moth-squeaks from Valentino so that he could take a seat on Vox's other side rather than joining Velvette. If he had to be more overt for Vox's sake, then maybe he ought to do just that. "Hmm... I am a bit tired, so I guess I'll indulge in a burger tonight instead. See what all of the hype is for. I hope you don't mind, Valentino, Velvette."
"Psh. If you two fuck your feelings out at least that'll be something closer to functional."
"Not exactly what I was implying, but it has been quite an emotional few days."
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Vox's blink was owl-eyed, but he scooted almost automatically. It's fine. No problem. Just framed on both sides by disturbingly attractive men, he'll survive. He recovered with talk of food.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He knew what place to call, but... could they make burgers that weren't. Uh. ...Suuuper sloppy?? Because this was Alastor, after all. Standards obnoxiously high! And he was eating for two-
Vox quirked a brow at Velvette and he leaned back, one leg crossed over the other. He grinned. "Oh...? Sounding like an expert in the field, Vel- what lucky lady have you been sharing your feelings with...? Anybody I know?"
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"Well, my dear, you did claim the title of 'backbone of the Vees' - you should grab a few of the souls under your name, though, and delegate."
"Yeah right, all we have are dogshit prats that can't tell their asses from their elbows. Then I'd have to leave them to do the shit and then do it over for them."
"Hah! True, it's difficult to find competence here in Hell. And it really never gets any better. I'd say go prowling around Husker's old stomping grounds - gamblers are always desperate, and the card-counters can be quite useful."
"Huh. What's the story with you getting his soul, anyway?"
"I'll tell some other time!" Alastor promised - and with the limo finally coming to a halt, Alastor waggled his fingers at the other two Vees. "Tomorrow I'll have that gumbo done by the evening - come with your appetites, you hear?"
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He'd be interested in hearing Husker's old tale. He knew the guy, was aware of his ownership, and even drank at one of his casinos. But he'd like to hear how it REALLY went down.
The limo pulled to a stop, and Vox was quiet before the doors were pulled open. All he needed was but a few seconds to double, triple, quadruple check security systems and if everything else was in order. Then he climbed out, and shared a passive look to the doormen.
Alastor was invisible.
He clapped his hands. "Welp! Home sweet home! I'm sure we've all got matters to attend to, but you all know my line is open if you need me for anything."
He offered a hand to aid the shorter V, the (much, much) taller V, then A from the car.
"As for you..." Vox didn't let go once Alastor exited the vehicle, however.
He played a quick electro-swing ditty over his speakers as he gave the red demon a twirl, a dip, and used the motion to hook his free arm under Alastor's knees.
The media demon is off like a shot, carrying the radio demon princess-style up the steps and into the tower proper. He's laughing like a madman.
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Getting scooped up, though - that got a surprised bleat from him, one that Valentino made some remark about but Alastor could only stare as he was hurried away in a whirlwind of motion.
Stunned, he clung on, brain racing to catch up-- the overcoat could only hide so much when he was positioned like this...!!
(Not that there was an issue - not a soul in Voxtek would even perceive him or question their boss' jovial attitude, letting it all pass right by. The benefits of hypnosis!)
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The music continued to play, a triumph, as he scurried along with the other man and their bundle in tow. He'd quickly connected to the tower's network to open the doors remotely, activate the elevator...
His own whirlwind stopped when he was forced to pause in the elevator, which he stepped into and spun on the end of a finely-polished shoe before he came to a stop.
Well.
Not entirely. He was toe-tapping, shuffling along in place, as the doors closed and they made their way up. No risk teleporting when one wasn't sure how his electricity would affect the baby! Still, this just meant he could hold him like this for longer.
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