divinetree | Charlie & Vox

Get some rest in a strange little hotel room. No big deal, right? Do you manage to sleep in until the morning, Vox? Or do you wake up earlier, when there's a pair of glowing red eyes and a golden toothy smile peeking through the dark at you?

He's not doing anything. Just... sitting on the bed, looming over, looking far too amused.

He never did sleep all that peacefully. Always illuminated by screens, the workaholism, and the depression did untold damage to his sleep hygiene. Vox of VoxTek could best be described as a catnap type, stealing chunks of sleep about 20 minutes at a time before rousing for a few minutes and entering the loop.

Each loop's end came with checking for messages. Piggybacking off the wifi, Vox pinged and reached out, refreshed, hoping for any messages from Valentino or Velvette just BEGGING forgiveness. Surely, they had to be...! They couldn't run a fucking business. They'd collapse the whole thing.

Or... or maybe there was a message wondering if he'd learned his lesson or that, haha, they were kidding and they cared and they were coming to get him. But his inbox was empty. It was empty at 11 PM. 12 AM. 1 AM...

Each check made another line etch beneath his eyes. When came the hour that many would call sunrise, Vox was deathly silent. His gaze had emptied. Left to his own thoughts, they quietly spiraled. There was the very real possibility that- especially in Valentino's case- Vox was likely forgotten. There were too many whores in Val's care. There was too much work to do. He was an easily distracted sort. As for Vel...? She liked to hold a grud--

Glowing eyes appeared in the dark. Teeth followed. But any fear he should have felt was gone ages ago... try about 80 years. Instead, Vox just felt... tired.

Annoyed.

"...Go away."

"Now, now," Alastor chuckled, laying on the bed and kicking his legs behind him in an eager whimsy, "is that any way to act after picking a fight with ALL of Heaven and dooming everyone you love~?"

And of course, he laughed at that - not that Vox was in on the joke.

His frown deepened. Couldn't this guy wait until sun-up? Just a couple more hours?? He had important messages to wait for.

"F̹͗̾̚u̢ͭ͜c̯̈̏̊k̳̋ͫ̆̆͘͟.͇ͩ O̷̷ͅf̅ͫf̝̱͖͈ͯ.̙̍͒ Don't you have a business to pretend to run? A radio tower to haunt?" He was thankful for having hands back. He used one to pull the covers up and over his head.

"So sour!! You really are such a mess," Alastor gleefully chirped, crawling onto his hands and knees and looming over the lump of blankets, boxing Vox in with his arms as he smirked down at the hiding demon.

"Happy to have you aboard. I'm surprised you were well-behaved enough to still get fair treatment from Charlie, after the stunt you pulled - killing thousands in the city and nearly killing her, her loved one and the one angel even remotely willing to give Hell a chance!"

And all just to get at him? Why, Vox, he's flattered.

Not.

"Charlie made me pinkie promise not to hurt you or fight you. Aren't you lucky! If you survive a week of these silly trust exercises and group therapy sessions, I'll treat you to a drink."

"I'm not going to even BE HERE in a week! I'm waiting for my ride." Such a defiant lump of blankets.

"Then we can both go back to our lives, and I'll rebuild." He could feel the hollowness in his words. He knew he'd flushed almost a hundred years of influence down the toilet. He could get about half of it back thanks to the short attention spans of people these days, but half was never, ever enough.

"I don't want any drink with you. There are plenty of assholes here who would indulge you."

"Oh? Is that really so?"

Alastor leaned over him, face nearly flush with the blanket, a hand resting on the lump beneath the comforter - a shoulder, or an arm, maybe. Close.

"You wanted my attention so, so badly. You'd kill for it. You were going to die for it. Well... now you've got it."

He chuckled, letting go, the weight leaving the mattress entirely as he stood. "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, Vincent. See you later."

That dark, ugly boiling built in his chest again, a pitch that drove him to that malefic glee when he stood on the Might of Lilith, feeling more powerful than ever. He could feel victory at hand, even if it meant killing them all, but oh... having that last laugh...

But then... then...

Here. The smallest bowl. He was the goldfish again, swimming in circles, furious as the people looked inward, having their laugh. They were having their victory, so HAPPY that they got to have everything they could ever have wanted.

He wanted to be a god. He could taste it, it was so close... but with Alastor, he thought he'd asked for so little. He was willing to throw away so much, if only so that he could... ...

...

And he was willing to kill for it. Die for it.

So even that was a joke now.

Come get me. I'm sorry. The email was drafted, ready to send. But the pitch boiled further, burning away the lump in his throat and driving him to delete the draft. No. He didn't beg.

His eyes burned, but he blinked back the tears. He didn't cry. Everyone laughed when he did.

"B̶̧͒͆l̛ͮͧ͠o̷̜̗̦̓̓͑ͫ́͝w̠ͥͧ me̮̋͛͞.̛͎̟ͮ̓̕"

"Not in your wildest dreams!"

Alastor snipped back, amused, taunting. Grateful to hear Vox so distorted, so fucked up in his defeat - good, for how close he'd come to killing Alastor for real, that misery was more than earned.

"Breakfast at seven~"

It was the last thing he said, sing-songing it, even. Then he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Vox behind again. Who knows if he'll be there - for now, he's got his morning radio broadcast to chatter through, go through the weather and the news of the day, business as usual...!

He sighed in the lingering silence. Great. At least they didn't fight.

He sat up and lowered the blanket, searched the dark for Alastor's... creacher-like ass.

"...Shit, how do I handle breakfast? Could I skip?"

It was early. He could slip down, get something small, then hurry back. Pathetic? Yes. But he was ravenous.

He threw one leg off the edge of the bed. Right. ...One. Shit.

Fuck it. Fuck this.

His eyes fell to the coat rack in the corner. It wasn't a cane by any means, but... hmm. It'll do. He was a god damned innovator.

By the next minute, he was doing his best to move through the hall, draped like a hermit in the blanket, propping weight against the makeshift walking stick and hopping to the one foot he had. All the while, he was checking and rechecking his cables. If they'd just grow back, he could weave a temporary leg...

Whatever. WEIRD MYSTERIOUS HERMIT IN THE HALL. DON'T PERCEIVE HIM.

At least it looks like most other guests are groggy, if they're even up at all - shuffling through the hallway to the stairs or the elevators, not paying each other much mind, including Vox himself. Nothing in the elevator but a couple of sleepy yawns, only two of the four other Sinners even recognizing each other - a pair of gals groggily talk about getting their morning coffee and I hope they got more of the caramel creamer.

It's a pretty sharp contrast how sleepy everyone is at seven compared to... well, the Princess herself in the kitchen and dining space, literally glittering with energy.

"Good morniiiiing! Oh, Rooster! Hi! Did you sleep well? Good! Lessee-- oh, hi!! We haven't met yet, I'm Charlie Morningstar--"

The kitchen and dining area itself seems mostly quiet as well, Niffty helming the breakfast... and mercifully, it seems relatively normal. Coffee, cereals, bagels, fruits of all earthly and hellish kinds... exactly what you'd expect from a hotel breakfast, at the end of the day. And aside from Niffty fastidiously scrubbing at every single drop of jam or splat of butter with an unsettling fervor, there's no sign of Alastor's chaotic energy anywhere.

The first presence to acknowledge Vox at all was a hand on his back, followed by that expected voice. "Good morning! Oh! Hey, you actually made it bright and early - I was going to come tell you that dad's working on new legs for you. He said they should be done today, so you won't have to wait too long - he decided to just make a matching pair instead of trying to match the one you have, if that makes sense?"

It was weird... he hadn't felt this level of anxiety in a LONG, long time. He felt a temporary spike of it when the angels appeared at his rally, but it came in prickles up his arms every time he studied a sleepy Sinner who just walked past and didn't seem to recognize him.

Too many. There were too fucking many people in this place. Then again, they got proof that redemption actually worked... but it was NOT helping this little outing that he'd hoped would be an in-the-dark and solo venture.

Vox watched the activity, gradually growing relieved that there were the crowds. There was a sense of being invisible when there was just too much to focus--

He jumped with the hand, froze... but relaxed with the voice. Slightly. If Charlie could recognize him, who else could??

"Uh- great! ...Great. Is it always this fucking busy...??"

Sorry, Vox... your face does kind of... literally glow, after all.

"Ever since Sir Pentious' broadcast...! It's great, isn't it?? This is even just the early bird crew, most people sleep in for an hour or more if they don't have to hurry to work," Charlie cooed a bit excitedly.

"Right, you're kinda stuck with only one free hand - let me help make your plate. Do you want some coffee? How do you take it?"

Right... here too, huh? He made a note to show up even earlier, if he could manage. When he stayed at hotels while he was alive, it never hurt to be so much of a night owl you were still awake when the kitchen staff roused to get started. "...Noted."

But Vox quirked a brow at her. Do you have a dimmer switch? Did you even sleep?

"Oh, you know: One part oat milk to three parts coffee, 160 degrees, two raw sugars." A test. A gag. Should he add affogato and ristretto?

Oat milk, okay, degrees?? She'll just... assume thee coffee pot temp is normal?? Maybe there was a temperature setting on the machine? And--

"Raw... sugar. Uhh, is that basically just... regular cane sugar? From earth, right? I can do that I think," she hummed, brows furrowed in concentration before straightening up and going to fetch a mug.

She didn't catch it, but the question has him pause.

"Sort of? I think??" It was un-fucked-with sugar, right? That's what he recalled-

She left.

"WaitWAIT--" He couldn't grab her with his current walking stick setup, and if he tried to head after her, he risked exposure.

You and your BIG FUCKING MOUTH, VINCE!

"Char-... Charlieee-" He tried calling, but it was too hushed in trying to avoid having his voice recognizable. Really, he should have thought this through, maybe did a voice mimic--

Okay, if they had that stuff here, he'd drink it. It sounded like oatmeal in a cup, but it'd hold him over breakfast-wise while he checked his messages a few... dozen... more times. What was he going to do, throw out coffee?? That's caffeine.

Ooookay, let's see, get the grounds for the machine. Oh, hi, good morning! Now, the coffee machine... uhhh... Charlie squinted at it, lifting up some of the scribbled post-its that Alastor had made to mock the thing. So what if it had a lot of settings, the guests could have coffee in a way they like!!

"Oh, holy shit, there's actually a temperature option--" Charlie gasped in triumphant surprise, getting the machine brewing and the mug underneath the spigot while she moved to the fridge to find what milk was available. Let's see, a lot of regular ol' pasteurized hellcow milk, some Lust ring "milk" (eww but also thanks, uncle Ozzie, that kept people from 'making their own' or slipping it into the regular milk........), soy milk, almond milk... ah, damn.

"Hey, is almond milk okay?" Charlie asked, looking over at Vox from where she stood at the fridge - and of course, a few people peeked over to see who she was talking to, a natural reaction and reflex.

Look, he'll just take whatever if it'll wake himmMMM--!!

Colors blinked within the hood as he wildly gestured with his free hand in his best attempt of WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING- before he saw many, many other eyes turning his way.

Quickly, he pulled the hood lower and looked back and beyond himself, as if Charlie may be speaking to someone else coming in. But let's also just... walk behind this very swirly, swoopy looking ficus here to obscure himself a bit.

It allowed him to try and make eye contact to wildly gesture at her and half shrug like WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!

"Ohp, shit, uh-- yeah, almond milk's fine? Okay!" Charlie called, completely unconvincingly, towards a nebulous... nobody? Much to everyone's confusion?

Mumble, mumble. It's too early, man...

Hooohhhkay she'll just get the milk and stir it in... get some sugar... there we go. Aaaand let's grab some fruit and a muffin too, might as well.

"Alright, everyone - introduction sessions are at ten, see youtherebye!"

She'll zip off, trying to be discreet. WHOOPS.

He slowly pulled the hood further down as Charlie just kept TALKING, AAAHHH--

Help him, ficus. You're his only hope. Vox peeked, briefly, remembering that some Hell plants were carnivorous. They weren't stupid enough to put man-eating plants in here, right? Whew. This one had no mouths. Just eeeeeyes.

No man-eating here! Just lots of eyes, yeah... lots and lots of eyes.

She'll just... carry the coffee and little plate of breakfast off to the side, at one of the little lobby tables. Yeaaaaaah... she waves Vox over when the 'coast is clear', i.e., when no one else was really paying attention.

She may have waved the all-clear, but he still lifted the hood just enough to look around, and made the awkward hobble-shuffle over to the table.

"Okay- for the record, definitely not attending the introduction session, and while I... appreciate... the effort here, my plan is to just... take this up to my room."

He was already trying to figure out the logistics. "...Less risky."

Risky... right. He'd be getting a LOT of heat for what he'd done. She'd wanted to give him a kick across the courtyard, so it wasn't like she didn't understand the feeling.

But--

"So long as you're here and a guest, no one's allowed to fight. You'll have to face people eventually..."

Though, she trailed off a bit, in thought. Sighed.

"...But that can at least wait for when your legs are done. So you can leave a room if you need to. Come on, I'll carry this up for you."

He knew passing up a bite to eat was foolish in the long run. Regeneration was part of their punishment as Sinners, but replacing flesh and mending torn pieces burned calories. The more reckless demons among the lot of them- the ones that chose instead to endlessly fight in their frustration and try to thrive in their immortality- wound up as bony little husks until they learned the lesson.

"No, you have a meeting to get ready for. I'll figure this out." Wrap some blanket around these, form a pouch, maybe... something that can at least last him. He'd need the energy, though. So, without thinking, he downed the drink he'd sent her along to handle in jest...

...

Wait, what the fuck? This was actually good?? Wait, why the fuck did nobody tell him almond milk was GOOD?

She giggled, a little. "Pretty good, right? One of our guests suggested we have almond milk and it's pretty darn tasty! I like mine with a little caramel drizzle in the coffee too, it's like a morning dessert!"

She's holding onto that plate - she'll help out if she can, you hear!!

Good morning, PAL...

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