[As soon as Alastor starts moving his hand, Vox's gaze drifts towards it. He watches as the wires are vaguely loosened, and does nothing to stop it. There's no reason to stop it. Though, before he knows what's happening, Alastor's playing with his antenna. It no longer sends a wave of static across his screen, since the antenna isn't connected to his display anymore. At most, he hears the static, feels it rushing through his head, and it means he needs to waste a second on tuning back into the V Tower's wifi network.
Still... He remembers the times vividly when Alastor would do that, and he mistook it for a sign of affection. Just another one of those social cues he'd misread, filling him with hope instead of bitter disdain. He wishes he could go back to those times of ignorance. Much like a TV show, this fictional idea that Alastor cared about him brought him comfort.
He doesn't pull away, instead allowing the Radio Demon to prod and flick as he pleases. He knows now that there's no meaningful sentiment involved, but the feeling is always nice.]
If I fuck up... And that's a real big if... I'll make sure we're both dead.
[It's said with a plastered smile, a tilt of the head and pure sincerity. If he somehow manages to fail at this point, and the deal is broken, he won't give Alastor a chance to gloat. He won't allow it for anyone else, either. Someone who fucks up when he's that close to being a god, or already is one, has truly jumped the shark. No point in trying anything else. Game over.]
[ Alastor hooks his index and middle finger around Vox's damaged antenna, and he presses his thumb against one of the dents on it. He presses down a little harder, testing how pliable it is, and isn't surprised to find that it doesn't budge. He does sometimes wonder if he it isn't deliberately kept that way to keep them at roughly the same height. It makes him want to hammer out the dents and pull it straight, but he doubts Vox would much appreciate that.
He settles for placing the tip of his finger on the ball once more, pulling it forward and down before releasing it and watching it bounce back and forth, then repeats the movement. There's no particular reason for it save that he wants to. It's one of those little things that had once been shared between them, and it only takes Vox being near long enough for him to fall back into old patterns. ]
Do you really think you deserve such a beautiful end?
[ Alastor doesn't miss a beat, but that unsettling feeling washes over him once more. It makes his blood run cold. He knows Vox better than anyone. He might very well be the only one who knows him at all. He knows, too, that this is the first serious threat that the man has made since this all started. Vox needed someone he could take down with him. He needed someone who he could make suffer just as much.
He needs to find a way out. ]
I want to see you lose everything. I want you to live your life miserable alone, and I want to see you fall and break far more, and then crawl in some hole to die by yourself. I can't do that if you end things early.
[ It's because he hates Vox, and it's because he refuses to let go of him in spite of that. It's some twisted affection where he would rather the man be in his own personal Hell for eternity than die. He wants to hurt him, to vent every last frustration, but there's no real malice to his words - there's nothing to be found in them at all, no hint of how much he means, and completely at odds with him letting the man leisurely rest on his lap while playing with his antenna. ]
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CW: suicide ideation of sorts
Still... He remembers the times vividly when Alastor would do that, and he mistook it for a sign of affection. Just another one of those social cues he'd misread, filling him with hope instead of bitter disdain. He wishes he could go back to those times of ignorance. Much like a TV show, this fictional idea that Alastor cared about him brought him comfort.
He doesn't pull away, instead allowing the Radio Demon to prod and flick as he pleases. He knows now that there's no meaningful sentiment involved, but the feeling is always nice.]
If I fuck up... And that's a real big if... I'll make sure we're both dead.
[It's said with a plastered smile, a tilt of the head and pure sincerity. If he somehow manages to fail at this point, and the deal is broken, he won't give Alastor a chance to gloat. He won't allow it for anyone else, either. Someone who fucks up when he's that close to being a god, or already is one, has truly jumped the shark. No point in trying anything else. Game over.]
no subject
He settles for placing the tip of his finger on the ball once more, pulling it forward and down before releasing it and watching it bounce back and forth, then repeats the movement. There's no particular reason for it save that he wants to. It's one of those little things that had once been shared between them, and it only takes Vox being near long enough for him to fall back into old patterns. ]
Do you really think you deserve such a beautiful end?
[ Alastor doesn't miss a beat, but that unsettling feeling washes over him once more. It makes his blood run cold. He knows Vox better than anyone. He might very well be the only one who knows him at all. He knows, too, that this is the first serious threat that the man has made since this all started. Vox needed someone he could take down with him. He needed someone who he could make suffer just as much.
He needs to find a way out. ]
I want to see you lose everything. I want you to live your life miserable alone, and I want to see you fall and break far more, and then crawl in some hole to die by yourself. I can't do that if you end things early.
[ It's because he hates Vox, and it's because he refuses to let go of him in spite of that. It's some twisted affection where he would rather the man be in his own personal Hell for eternity than die. He wants to hurt him, to vent every last frustration, but there's no real malice to his words - there's nothing to be found in them at all, no hint of how much he means, and completely at odds with him letting the man leisurely rest on his lap while playing with his antenna. ]