[ The reaction is more dramatic than he thought it would be, as is Vox loosening the cable... He rocks back and forth on how he explains these behaviors, though none of it allows him to quite reach the correct conclusion, and so he can find it to be charming, in a childish sort of way. It's delightful to see his expression shift when Alastor pulls back, and it draws out a snicker from him that turns into a giggle. ]
Pfft... Haha... I changed my mind. I've already spoiled you too much tonight.
[ He crosses his legs and leans back, ]
You have to ask nicely if you want me to do something like that now.
[The loosening of the cable made perfect sense with the notion in the back of his head that maybe, just maybe, Alastor would go back to touching him. He realizes now what an absolute fool he was for thinking that. Even with that, he'll just.... leave the cable as it is. Not like Alastor can go anywhere or do anything to him.]
I'm not gonna beg, Al. I'm not that desperate. You don't wanna share, I hope you choke on it instead.
[He's sitting up straight in his seat again, arms crossed over his chest, huffy as can be. And yes, that means Alastor's glass will stand forgotten on the drink cart. Should've thought of that whiskey before making a fool out of Vox!]
You should be. I don't respond to demands, and I don't take requests, but I have on occasion been so willing to offer relief to a beggar.
[ They're words with a sinister implication for anyone else, because death might be better than the cost of being spared, but for Vox it's nothing more than one more way of teasing him. This is all just Alastor's private experiment anyway. It's a way of seeing how far he's willing to go, how much Vox is willing to accept, what reactions he can get from all of this. It's a new experience for him, because what little he did was for social conformity rather than interest, and decorum and modesty led to chastity. There's none of that here and Hell, but in that case that meant he was free from the former more than the latter. It's just on a whim that he's decided to do so now, being that they're on a date, decided on a whim and to be continued until he loses interest.
Alastor takes a couple more bites, but he doesn't choke on any of them. Once that's done, he rests his elbow on the armrest and his chin on his palm. He tilts his head slightly to watch Vox through half lidded eye, tapping his bottom lip with his index finger as he considers what it is he wants to do next. That giddy reaction had been irritating before, but he doesn't mind it here - though it did seem a bit much for something so simple. ]
Although in your case, I wasn't asking for you to beg anyway.
[ Or rather, he hadn't expected him to, nor would it matter if he did. Really, it's just that his pouting is nice too. It seems to him a bit different than the usual frustration and upset that he normally aims for. ]
[In Vox's opinion, asking nicely and begging for something are virtually the same thing. Especially after the last time he asked Alastor something 'nicely' and was immediately made out to be a pathetic weakling. If he really wanted to prove a point, he'd use the cables to force Alastor's hand to feed him, because that's what real power is. The mood's fucking ruined, though. Maybe some other time, when the popcorn will taste less bitter.
For now, he'll just take his own, even going so far as to grab the tub and putting it back on his own lap. He's perfectly capable of feeding himself, thankyouverymuch.]
You're a miserable prick and if it weren't for me keeping you close, you'd spent the rest of your days in Hell alone like a fucking loser. You're welcome.
[ Thought in a way, it is. He had been alone until Vox had come along. He doubts anyone else will be so bold as to approach him. That's unfortunate for him, considering that the man has one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. If kill him, then Alastor will, and if Alastor doesn't, one of the other overlords will. He's made too much noise, and he's put himself in a position where failure isn't an option.
He lifts his head back up. He'll wait just a bit longer before doing anything more, but when he's ready, he'll reach over himself. He makes a point of waiting until Vox is trying to reach his hand in for no other reason than to be able to knock it away before he takes another pinch of popcorn. He holds it up to Vox once more, tilting his head just slightly to one side.
He does wonder if the offer will be rejected this time out of fear of being tricked again. That would make the entire affair that much funnier, because Alastor has changed his mind again about being willing to hand feed him. He's perfectly willing to go through with it now. ]
You're pathetic. Is this how you behave with your partner... [ A beat, and he lifts an eyebrow, ] ... In business too?
[ For once, he's not asking to antagonize - or at least, not in the same way, because the need to do so has died down for the moment. It just doesn't seem too far off, though Alastor doubts that anyone else can get the sort of reactions that he does. ]
[The rude bump to Vox's hand is so unwelcome right now. It feels needlessly aggressive for a split second, but then he realizes what Alastor's doing. Now he's once again left staring at an offer of popcorn. Moving his gaze to the radio demon's face instead doesn't help anything, because there's no way he can trust that smirk now. Fool him once, shame on Alastor, fool him twice...
No. He won't do it. He'll ignore it. Like he said, Alastor can choke on it.
Vox turns away in his seat somewhat, the popcorn bucket angling away with him. Even then, he makes sure to throw one last glare Alastor's way.]
Of course not, don't be a fucking idiot. Val actually appreciates me, and he doesn't waste my time with the kinda pranks a toddler would pull. Here's a shocking newsflash for ya: some people down here get along.
[Is it healthy relationship? No. Vox knows that too. But healthy is overrated. It works, and that's what matters. It's been working for several decades already.
Annoyed, he grabs a hand of popcorn for himself and stuffs it all into his mouth in one go, gaze swerving back towards the movie.]
[ Thank goodness for that, because Alastor is looking at least a hundred times more smug now for having this once in the radio demon's lifetime experience only for it to be rejected. It really just make those last few kernels that he tosses into his mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing, that much sweeter. ]
Hm? So you're more pathetic with him...?
[ He's actually just going to slide one finger up under Vox's shirt, right where he knows those vents are, one clawed fingertip stopping right above them. He's still watching, gaze fixed on Vox. His fingertip idly moves up and down just slightly, before sliding down slowly over those vents as he says, ]
You know, you passed up a once in a lifetime opportunity just now... It's not every day that the Radio Demon offers that for nothing, hm...? But, [ And one finger was just starting to toy at that vent there now, maybe fingering it just a little bit to see what reaction he can get before pulling his hand back since Vox has made his feelings so clear, ] You're right. You and I have never gotten along, now have we?
Edited (i'm so sorry i still missed a word wheezes, this is what happens when i hit enter too quickly) 2025-12-29 08:43 (UTC)
[By now, Vox is trying his hardest to ignore Alastor's faux advances. It's all performative, meant to mess with him, and he's not going to acknowledge these mind games. He's the one meant to be playing them, after all. If he's not in control of the situation, it means Alastor is, and he can't allow that to happen.
Still, as soon as the hand goes up his shirt, finger stroking along near his vents, he instinctively tenses up. The reaction is involuntary and unstoppable. The closer Alastor gets to an opening, the more Vox's muscles seize up. A light blush dawns on his screen despite himself. When the finger is inserted, the radio demon will likely be able to feel a kind of humid warmth emanating from Vox's insides, leaving his body through the vent.
Aaand there it goes. Affection withdrawn, as is just so very typical of Alastor. Vox's posture relaxes again, even if his expression remains set in frustration.]
I thought we did, once. But that was on me for assuming you could be genuine. What a fucking idiot I was, right? I know better now.
[ It's affection that's given and withdrawn, but given freely nonetheless. There's no sense in continuing to offer it if the other has started to grow tired of him, though, and so he does fold his hands on his lap. It only lasts a moment before he lifts one hand, running it through his hair and pinning his ears back. There's something about that statement which bothers him. ]
You're the first person who's ever thought that. I'm sure you'll be the last too.
[ The too trusting Princess of Hell has her doubts about him, even being smart enough to slam the door in his face (repeatedly, no less.) Vox, either bold or stupid or both, had been a bit different. He wasn't afraid of the radio demon, but nor did he ever come across as trying to tame him, and so Alastor had grown accustomed to his presence. In that, only so much has changed. It's the knowledge of how much Vox needs him that had poisoned the well, and it was that instinctive understanding of how he views his partners that keeps him feeling validated in his decision to cut the man off.
His nails scratch across his scalp, and he huffs out a breath before he drops his hand back down. His ears perk back up as he settles on what it is he wants to say, and he's forced to relent, ]
[Vox can't help but think, bitterly, that he's the first person who thought that because he was the first person stupid enough to let himself think it. Everyone feared the radio demon, but Vox had so much raw confidence that he thought they were the weak idiots for keeping their distance. He sure found out the hard way he should've been more cautious. But then... It's more likely that it was Alastor's fault for displaying all those signs that made it seem like they were friends. How could Vox not think they were getting along? But ultimately, he was just being fucked with.
Yep. It was Alastor's fault.
He grabs his own glass from the cup holder and drains it one go. Another very unwise move from him, probably, but he's stopped caring. When he responds, it's with a moody grumble.]
Real weird remark to make when I'm this close to becoming a literal god. You saw potential 'cause I have potential, dumbass. And I'm tapping into it as we speak.
[ Alastor has resigned himself to being the metaphorical designated driver tonight. That's unfortunate to him, but any desire he had for liquor has passed anyhow. He doesn't much feel like mocking Vox either, or at least not in this specific way, which only serves to irritate him further. Despite that, his tone slips into something low and impassive, ]
How many times are you going to make me repeat myself? You need to take the cotton out of your ears and put it in your mouth.
[ Vox can take comfort in the fact that Alastor is, against all odds, not rehashing every insult now. He's making good use of his freedom of movement instead, fishing through his pocket until he finds his pack of cigarettes. He pops the top open, taking one out and bringing it up to his lips. ]
I thought you were someone who would shake up the status quo before.
[ Vox did, too, but it wasn't in the same way that Alastor had. He was just ambitious enough to be enticing, just enough for Alastor to keep interested with his ability to control the masses and force the older Overlords to acknowledge him (however begrudgingly,) but never enough to satisfy. ]
And if you hadn't spent decades playing house before deciding on this course of action on a whim, I might be more inclined to believe you now.
[Halfway into Alastor's little lecture, Vox started swirling his glass around in one hand, remains of the ice cubes tinkling and rotating along in the momentum. Then he sets it down in the cup holder again, scoffing and scowling, and just generally doing everything he can to show he doesn't agree with the sentiments one bit. But then he slips into a smile anyway, because he keeps having to remind himself that he's the one who's got the upper hand here. Alastor's just a bitter loser.]
Playing house? I was building a fucking empire. You can't just jump straight to the top of a ladder, you gotta climb it, dumbass. And wait for the right moments. Like the Princess of Hell pissing off Heaven by killing some of its Exorcists. That kinda moment.
[While his legs are still angled away from Alastor somewhat, he leans towards the man and brings a hand close to his face. To the tip of that cigarette in his mouth. His fingers snap, and a tiny spark springs to life, functioning as a lighter. You're welcome. His hand withdraws again with zero acknowledgement he did Alastor a favor.]
I was waiting on someone to open the door, and Little Miss Charlie with her shitty hotel did it. So hey, at least she accomplished something, right?
[ He's in the middle of digging through his opposite pocket when Vox reaches over, and he blinks once before he processes what's been done. He responds by placing his elbow back on the armrest, and he tilts the still open carton toward Vox in a silent offer. ]
And when your plan fails, your empire will fall with it.
[ He takes the first drag on his cigarette, and with that comes an immense relief. He may not be as open about it as some, but whiskey and cigarettes have been his steadfast companions for as long as he can remember. There's times he thinks he might die without them, but pride and a need for privacy left him willing to take that risk. ]
You know, you two have a lot in common. Your completely unrealistic, poorly thought out plans; your obsession with bringing Hell to Heaven, your warmongering, and you know, I think she's the only one who needs me as much as you do... I'm starting to think that you might have a custody battle on your hands after all.
[ The lateral statement is only meant as a little joke. Vox is the only one who cares about Alastor to fight over him, and on that point he will concede that the man has the upper hand. There is truth to the rest, though, and particularly that last statement. He was responsible for the success, and he saw how things were falling apart when he stopped. And that's to say nothing of that disaster of an interview, and Lucifer's dumber than doorknob efforts to stop Vox from insulting his daughter.
[Vox looks down towards the cigarettes, debating the option for a moment. He's not actively craving a smoke, but Alastor's going to send that smell out into the open, which means he'll be craving it soon enough. Might as well give in beforehand. With a light shrug of the shoulder, he reaches into the carton to take one for himself and light it. He takes a quick drag before moving the cigarette away from his mouth again.]
Psh, yeah right. She doesn't need you. If she did, she'd have come knocking by now, begging me to let you go. Or at least, y'know, sent me a strongly worded text message or some shit. I haven't heard a peep from her. [A realization hits him, and he laughs.] Oh wait. Now that I think about it... I called her earlier to extend a personal invitation to the party, and I did hear some peeps. Just nothing about you. All she cared about was her precious papa.
[Grinning widely, Vox leans forward to take an empty glass from the drink cart, then sets it down in Alastor's cup holder. It'll make a great ash tray that way.]
[ He flips the lid shut after Vox takes one. It crinkles in his hand as his grip begins to tighten around it, the sound it brings on bringing him back to attention and reminding him to pocket it once more. ]
That is because unlike her father, I am an adult of sound mind and judgment, not a toddler prone to wandering onto construction sites. We both know that hotel would have failed long ago if not for my timely intervention and upkeep... Why, the very moment I stepped back, people were being tied to train tracks, there was one disastrous interview after another, and your grubby fingerprints were all over my hotel.
[ Because yes, he was quite aware of everything that was happening. He even saw the news clips that aired. He chose not to do anything about it. Irritation begins to work its way into his voice as he goes along now, but it's melted away by the end. ]
And that's to say nothing of how we got to where we are now. Lucifer did a fine job of stopping you from insulting his daughter.
[ It goes without saying that the radio demon would have handled things quite differently. ]
[Vox smiles and shakes his head while Alastor speaks. Shakes it several times in quick succession, even. By the time the defense is done, Vox is blowing smoke up towards the ceiling and watching it dissipate in the light of the movie's projector. It's mesmerizing. He flicks the cigarette above the empty glass.]
That's not what I mean. You're right that she needs you to get her shit in order. Needs your help. But she doesn't need you. 'Cause she doesn't realize how much your help has been keeping her head above the water. Not sure she even cares. She's just gonna keep stumbling forward like a blind animal, with or without you.
[And it's gratifying to know that Charlie doesn't seem to give a shit. Alastor came to her with an offer to help, she took it and exploited it, but now Alastor's gone and she's doing nothing about it. Like he was never there at all- like it never mattered to her. It's delicious. He's not sure whether Alastor cares just how unappreciated he is, but Vox will rub it in anyway.]
[ There's truth to what Vox says. Alastor has no desire for people to meddle in his affairs and make a mess of things, but it's true that the lack of recognition, the complete lack of respect even from the people who owe it to him most, has been sorely felt as of late.
So he listens in silence, eyes half-lidded, the ever present smile on his face betraying no emotion. His response isn't immediate, but he keeps his eyes on the other man. ]
I came to the same conclusion.
[ There's no sense in pretending otherwise, but the words are heavier than he means them to be. It's one of those rare moments where the exhaustion starts to leak through the cracks that started forming a hundred years ago, little chips that rapidly became fissures, because he's sick of everyone and everything.
He takes another pull on his cigarette, then taps it against the rim of the glass, and in a lighter tone he adds, ]
[There it is. Vox takes the victory, and only then realizes just how backwards that even is. He just knocked the only competition out of the park to establish that he's the only person who needs Alastor. That's bad, actually. Fuck. And just when he thinks he could get away with it, it's pointed out to him in even blunter, more twisted words. So twisted that maybe he could use that as a crowbar to get himself out of the tight spot he's in.
He laughs loudly- almost a bark- and tilts his head to peer Alastor's way.]
Love? Yeah right. If there's not even friends in Hell, there's definitely no love. Anyone who thinks they've got that kinda emotion for anyone but themselves is delusional. Just... lying to themselves, 'cause if they can love, maybe they're not totally rotten to the core.
[He takes a drag from his cigarette and looks back towards the movie, where Santa is doing... something or another. Hell if he knows. His expression is so glazed over, it's evident he's not actually watching.]
... Fucking useless emotion anyway, love. Who needs that?
[ The response is jarring. The content is in line with his expectations, but he hadn't anticipated how strict the presentation would be. It does make him think. He can be dense when it comes to people taking interest in him, being a person who the world had no love for and one who had no particular love for the world, but it isn't as though he doesn't understand the concept. He knows that glow that people have about them when they've found a person of interest. He knows the signs, the little shifts in behaviors, and has had the misfortune of sensing it blooming in his hotel, and even outside of it.
Unfortunately for all of them, there's no happy endings in Hell. ]
You're close. It does exist, but it isn't anything worth pursuing. Even if it appears to be burning bright at the start, the fire in the heart of any person will flicker out over time.
[ He waves the hand with the cigarette a bit, then shakes his head. Love was the wrong word for it, even if he had said it in jest. What they have is something harder to define. ]
And then one day, you realize that all you've done is ruin a good thing.
[ He reaches over to poke the bottom corner of Vox's head as he finally gets around to correcting himself, ]
Fine then. You need me.
[ That's fortunate for them, or maybe just the opposite. Love grows cold with time, but need can last forever.
His gaze remains on the other even when he looks away, unwavering. ]
[What Alastor's saying strikes him as strange. It's out of place in how earnest it sounds, and while it'd be easy for Vox to dismiss it as more of a broad statement than anything personal... Well, that touch to his head makes it far less easy. It's personal. He doesn't believe it, though. That good thing they had, wasn't that just fake? Humoring Vox, but meaningless otherwise? Unless Alastor's own entertainment was the good thing. That'd check out.
He's silent for a moment as he tries to figure out what to even say or do. At the very least, the touch drew his attention away from the movie and back to Alastor again. Now he's left staring the Radio Demon down, looking thoughtful. Almost lost. Until finally, he settles on bitter acceptance.]
Sure. Fine. I need you. Hell would be real fucking boring without you, anyway. [With that, he finally looks away from Alastor again, instead peering down at the empty glass as he taps his cigarette against the rim.] ... Don't think for even a second that's a sign of weakness. I just like the challenge.
[ In his own mind, it is an objective assessment. It isn't something that he comments on often, but it would be impossible to not have given it further consideration as of late, and there's no need to hide his thoughts from Vox.
He looks away just briefly to take a drag from his cigarette, just long enough to ensure he's not blowing smoke in Vox's face. He won't call it a sign of weakness, or at least not today. They're at a point where it no longer serves much purpose, and his mind has started to wander. There's some feeling that has started to tug at him, some thought that's started to occur to him, but it's still forming itself into something he can grasp.
So he doesn't call it weak, but instead continues to speak in a mild voice, ]
You're the only one in Hell who's still bold enough to challenge me, much less think that they can surpass me.
[ A beat. ]
Hell was much quieter before you arrived.
[ And it goes without saying that it would be if he were to disappear now. It's their shared signal, but it's also more than that. Vox speaks, and Alastor listens. Vox puts out a broadcast for him, offers one in return. He looks up at cameras when he notices them. He catches bits of news and segments. It's an attention that he's never given to anyone else, and in return Vox gives him attention that no one ever has.
Quiet isn't the right word, but boring doesn't feel right either - empty might be flow more naturally in the sentence, but it's still not right, and nothing else he can think of seems to fit. ]
[That first bit has Vox snorting loudly, because 'think they can surpass me' sure is a backwards thing to say when Alastor is the one tied to a chair. The surpassing already happened. It's done. The only challenging that will still happen from his point on is the verbal snaps back and forth, maybe some physical fighting without real stakes.
He takes another drag from his cigarette, humming absentmindedly because at first, it doesn't really click. Of course Hell would be quieter if nobody dared to challenge Alastor before Vox showed up, or even really go up to him. The more seconds pass, though, the more he starts to think that's not quite what Alastor meant.
No. He knows what that 'quiet' is. He knows it quite well, because he experienced it too. The cigarette is removed from his mouth again, held between two fingers as he attempts to make direct eye contact.]
Hey. You really not gonna tell me where you were for those seven years? I always knew you wouldn't have fallen to one of those miserable fucking angels, but to just up and vanish the way you did...
[The 'where's he been, who gives a shit?' was one of the biggest bluffs Vox has ever uttered aloud. In truth, it was a real mystery. The kind to keep him up at night. If it were a matter of being detained somewhere, Alastor's unique signal would've still been around, but the Pride ring was just so eerily fucking silent. Who or what could've made the radio demon disappear without warning? Vox took the opportunity and ran with it, but at the same time, he hated the feeling that came with it. It was some kind of loss.]
[ Alastor doesn't immediately answer the question. He just looks away once more, admiring the clouds of smoke that they've made, the wisps coming off of his cigarette with half-closed eyes. He's not ignoring the question, but rather, an attempt to decide what it is that he wants to say, or if he wants to say anything at all. He's had enough to be more docile than he normally is, but not quite enough that the thought doesn't stir up a whirlwind of emotions that are kept safe behind lock and key, a toothy grin and disciplined mannerisms.
Eight years ago, three things happened: Lilith Morningstar disappeared. The Radio Demon went off the air. The exterminations again.
Seven years later, Charlie Morningstar decided to start a hotel, and the Radio Demon returned just in time to become the benefactor for that ridiculous project. He went from running all over Hell to having to, as Vox had said, give up what dignity he had left for.
And it's not just the last eight years. It's been the last century of this deal. His freedom within it was like one of those optical illusions where the longer a person stares at the center, the more of it starts to disappear. His seven year trip wasn't the first or second time he'd been called upon. It's a familiar song and dance. He was treated well in between tasks, but a dog is treated well so long as it barks on command, and it's ignored when it's not needed.
Now here is, past all that, tied to a fucking chair, and it's the best that he's felt in decades. There's no need to play nice. He doesn't have to play house. He doesn't have to be that model citizen, or to handle every task diligently only to be disrespected, to fix things only to have them broken again immediately after, to nearly die and gaining only mockery in return. There's no one here who treats him like he's something less than human, like he's filthier than the dirt itself, or to rub salt in his wounds. There's no need to tolerate all of that without making too much fuss, even as that white hot rage burned within him.
The Vees are pleasant enough. Vox is simple and predictable. He can spit at him and insult him just as easily as he can have these conversations with him. He's someone that looks up to Alastor, however much he tries to pretend otherwise, and someone who had once been seen as an equal. Everything done up until now has been the way one acts with a human. Or maybe that's not it at all, and it's just how close freedom is - Vox is his most important tool for that, after all, and he reminds him constantly of how close he is to chewing through his collar and being freed from his leash. And then... He can make sure that something like that, like this, never happens again.
Alastor thinks on this for a good minute or so, swallowing down that familiar frustration that doing so brings, before he shakes his head. ]
Oh, I was just doing a bit of traveling. Nothing important, just a little piece of business that I needed to attend to outside of the area.
[ There's another wave of his hand, but he can't muster up quite as much enthusiasm as he'd like. He'd rolled over, sat, played dead, chased the car and returned on command.
He waves his hand again, drawing a few little circles with his cigarette as he tries to dismiss the length of time he'd been gone, ]
And you know how it is. You think that something will be quit, and before you know it, you've spent three times as long as you intended to... But here I am, back safe and sound, and it's here that I'll stay.
[ As to how it is that he was able to leave to begin with, given that a simple sinner shouldn't be able to, well... That he's less inclined to share. ]
[That's not a real answer, that's just dodging the point. Of course it is. Alastor never trusted Vox with anything real about him. That should've tipped him off, way back when. It should've told him right then and there that they weren't friends, because if Alastor had been even remotely interested in closeness, he would've shared at least a shred of who he really was. Nothing's changed in all those years.
He's not sure why he was even willing to entertain an idle thought that Alastor would answer him this time.
Annoyed, he drops his cigarette into the makeshift ash tray. Still, he doesn't look away, instead sending a glare Alastor's way.]
You bet your fuckin' ass this is where you'll stay. You're mine now, and I'm not letting you go on any business trips.
[There's never going to be another moment where Vox is left wondering where the hell Alastor fucked off to. He won't allow it.]
[ He must be sore about the fact that Alastor won't give a straightforward answer. It's more direct than he'd be without anyone else, but he doesn't care to give the details. As far as he's concerned, they don't really matter. ]
You won't even let me out of a chair.
[ The truth is, he doesn't have a taste for travel, and it isn't as though Vox were the only one who had noticed how dead the airwaves were. It was a connection to someone that didn't offer any closeness, though he doesn't think of it as such. In fact, he stopped noticing it at all after the first couple years.
That is, he supposes, one more reason that Vox has never managed to replace him. He quite literally can't connect or communicate with anyone else in the same way. He doubts that anyone else would even understand it.
The temptation to double down and point out that he came back is there, but after further internal debate he makes a different sort of decision.
He hasn't been paying much attention to it, but he thinks the movie is nearing its end. So he matches Vox's glare with his usual calm. ]
Well, I won't ask you to let me go all that far, but let me up for a moment here. [ He reaches into the glass, snuffing it out on the side of the glass before dropping it down, ] Ninety seconds.
[ That might be a bit suspicious, given that he hasn't asked for anything at all up until now. Vox is stubborn enough that he might dismiss it out of hand, too, and that might be even more satisfying than being accommodated for being able to forever deny him the why for this unusual ask. ]
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Pfft... Haha... I changed my mind. I've already spoiled you too much tonight.
[ He crosses his legs and leans back, ]
You have to ask nicely if you want me to do something like that now.
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I'm not gonna beg, Al. I'm not that desperate. You don't wanna share, I hope you choke on it instead.
[He's sitting up straight in his seat again, arms crossed over his chest, huffy as can be. And yes, that means Alastor's glass will stand forgotten on the drink cart. Should've thought of that whiskey before making a fool out of Vox!]
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[ They're words with a sinister implication for anyone else, because death might be better than the cost of being spared, but for Vox it's nothing more than one more way of teasing him. This is all just Alastor's private experiment anyway. It's a way of seeing how far he's willing to go, how much Vox is willing to accept, what reactions he can get from all of this. It's a new experience for him, because what little he did was for social conformity rather than interest, and decorum and modesty led to chastity. There's none of that here and Hell, but in that case that meant he was free from the former more than the latter. It's just on a whim that he's decided to do so now, being that they're on a date, decided on a whim and to be continued until he loses interest.
Alastor takes a couple more bites, but he doesn't choke on any of them. Once that's done, he rests his elbow on the armrest and his chin on his palm. He tilts his head slightly to watch Vox through half lidded eye, tapping his bottom lip with his index finger as he considers what it is he wants to do next. That giddy reaction had been irritating before, but he doesn't mind it here - though it did seem a bit much for something so simple. ]
Although in your case, I wasn't asking for you to beg anyway.
[ Or rather, he hadn't expected him to, nor would it matter if he did. Really, it's just that his pouting is nice too. It seems to him a bit different than the usual frustration and upset that he normally aims for. ]
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For now, he'll just take his own, even going so far as to grab the tub and putting it back on his own lap. He's perfectly capable of feeding himself, thankyouverymuch.]
You're a miserable prick and if it weren't for me keeping you close, you'd spent the rest of your days in Hell alone like a fucking loser. You're welcome.
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[ Thought in a way, it is. He had been alone until Vox had come along. He doubts anyone else will be so bold as to approach him. That's unfortunate for him, considering that the man has one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. If kill him, then Alastor will, and if Alastor doesn't, one of the other overlords will. He's made too much noise, and he's put himself in a position where failure isn't an option.
He lifts his head back up. He'll wait just a bit longer before doing anything more, but when he's ready, he'll reach over himself. He makes a point of waiting until Vox is trying to reach his hand in for no other reason than to be able to knock it away before he takes another pinch of popcorn. He holds it up to Vox once more, tilting his head just slightly to one side.
He does wonder if the offer will be rejected this time out of fear of being tricked again. That would make the entire affair that much funnier, because Alastor has changed his mind again about being willing to hand feed him. He's perfectly willing to go through with it now. ]
You're pathetic. Is this how you behave with your partner... [ A beat, and he lifts an eyebrow, ] ... In business too?
[ For once, he's not asking to antagonize - or at least, not in the same way, because the need to do so has died down for the moment. It just doesn't seem too far off, though Alastor doubts that anyone else can get the sort of reactions that he does. ]
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No. He won't do it. He'll ignore it. Like he said, Alastor can choke on it.
Vox turns away in his seat somewhat, the popcorn bucket angling away with him. Even then, he makes sure to throw one last glare Alastor's way.]
Of course not, don't be a fucking idiot. Val actually appreciates me, and he doesn't waste my time with the kinda pranks a toddler would pull. Here's a shocking newsflash for ya: some people down here get along.
[Is it healthy relationship? No. Vox knows that too. But healthy is overrated. It works, and that's what matters. It's been working for several decades already.
Annoyed, he grabs a hand of popcorn for himself and stuffs it all into his mouth in one go, gaze swerving back towards the movie.]
me trying to hit the preview button like:
Hm? So you're more pathetic with him...?
[ He's actually just going to slide one finger up under Vox's shirt, right where he knows those vents are, one clawed fingertip stopping right above them. He's still watching, gaze fixed on Vox. His fingertip idly moves up and down just slightly, before sliding down slowly over those vents as he says, ]
You know, you passed up a once in a lifetime opportunity just now... It's not every day that the Radio Demon offers that for nothing, hm...? But, [ And one finger was just starting to toy at that vent there now, maybe fingering it just a little bit to see what reaction he can get before pulling his hand back since Vox has made his feelings so clear, ] You're right. You and I have never gotten along, now have we?
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Still, as soon as the hand goes up his shirt, finger stroking along near his vents, he instinctively tenses up. The reaction is involuntary and unstoppable. The closer Alastor gets to an opening, the more Vox's muscles seize up. A light blush dawns on his screen despite himself. When the finger is inserted, the radio demon will likely be able to feel a kind of humid warmth emanating from Vox's insides, leaving his body through the vent.
Aaand there it goes. Affection withdrawn, as is just so very typical of Alastor. Vox's posture relaxes again, even if his expression remains set in frustration.]
I thought we did, once. But that was on me for assuming you could be genuine. What a fucking idiot I was, right? I know better now.
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You're the first person who's ever thought that. I'm sure you'll be the last too.
[ The too trusting Princess of Hell has her doubts about him, even being smart enough to slam the door in his face (repeatedly, no less.) Vox, either bold or stupid or both, had been a bit different. He wasn't afraid of the radio demon, but nor did he ever come across as trying to tame him, and so Alastor had grown accustomed to his presence. In that, only so much has changed. It's the knowledge of how much Vox needs him that had poisoned the well, and it was that instinctive understanding of how he views his partners that keeps him feeling validated in his decision to cut the man off.
His nails scratch across his scalp, and he huffs out a breath before he drops his hand back down. His ears perk back up as he settles on what it is he wants to say, and he's forced to relent, ]
There was a time when I saw potential in you.
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Yep. It was Alastor's fault.
He grabs his own glass from the cup holder and drains it one go. Another very unwise move from him, probably, but he's stopped caring. When he responds, it's with a moody grumble.]
Real weird remark to make when I'm this close to becoming a literal god. You saw potential 'cause I have potential, dumbass. And I'm tapping into it as we speak.
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How many times are you going to make me repeat myself? You need to take the cotton out of your ears and put it in your mouth.
[ Vox can take comfort in the fact that Alastor is, against all odds, not rehashing every insult now. He's making good use of his freedom of movement instead, fishing through his pocket until he finds his pack of cigarettes. He pops the top open, taking one out and bringing it up to his lips. ]
I thought you were someone who would shake up the status quo before.
[ Vox did, too, but it wasn't in the same way that Alastor had. He was just ambitious enough to be enticing, just enough for Alastor to keep interested with his ability to control the masses and force the older Overlords to acknowledge him (however begrudgingly,) but never enough to satisfy. ]
And if you hadn't spent decades playing house before deciding on this course of action on a whim, I might be more inclined to believe you now.
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Playing house? I was building a fucking empire. You can't just jump straight to the top of a ladder, you gotta climb it, dumbass. And wait for the right moments. Like the Princess of Hell pissing off Heaven by killing some of its Exorcists. That kinda moment.
[While his legs are still angled away from Alastor somewhat, he leans towards the man and brings a hand close to his face. To the tip of that cigarette in his mouth. His fingers snap, and a tiny spark springs to life, functioning as a lighter. You're welcome. His hand withdraws again with zero acknowledgement he did Alastor a favor.]
I was waiting on someone to open the door, and Little Miss Charlie with her shitty hotel did it. So hey, at least she accomplished something, right?
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And when your plan fails, your empire will fall with it.
[ He takes the first drag on his cigarette, and with that comes an immense relief. He may not be as open about it as some, but whiskey and cigarettes have been his steadfast companions for as long as he can remember. There's times he thinks he might die without them, but pride and a need for privacy left him willing to take that risk. ]
You know, you two have a lot in common. Your completely unrealistic, poorly thought out plans; your obsession with bringing Hell to Heaven, your warmongering, and you know, I think she's the only one who needs me as much as you do... I'm starting to think that you might have a custody battle on your hands after all.
[ The lateral statement is only meant as a little joke. Vox is the only one who cares about Alastor to fight over him, and on that point he will concede that the man has the upper hand. There is truth to the rest, though, and particularly that last statement. He was responsible for the success, and he saw how things were falling apart when he stopped. And that's to say nothing of that disaster of an interview, and Lucifer's dumber than doorknob efforts to stop Vox from insulting his daughter.
But then again, hey, he's useless to them. ]
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Psh, yeah right. She doesn't need you. If she did, she'd have come knocking by now, begging me to let you go. Or at least, y'know, sent me a strongly worded text message or some shit. I haven't heard a peep from her. [A realization hits him, and he laughs.] Oh wait. Now that I think about it... I called her earlier to extend a personal invitation to the party, and I did hear some peeps. Just nothing about you. All she cared about was her precious papa.
[Grinning widely, Vox leans forward to take an empty glass from the drink cart, then sets it down in Alastor's cup holder. It'll make a great ash tray that way.]
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That is because unlike her father, I am an adult of sound mind and judgment, not a toddler prone to wandering onto construction sites. We both know that hotel would have failed long ago if not for my timely intervention and upkeep... Why, the very moment I stepped back, people were being tied to train tracks, there was one disastrous interview after another, and your grubby fingerprints were all over my hotel.
[ Because yes, he was quite aware of everything that was happening. He even saw the news clips that aired. He chose not to do anything about it. Irritation begins to work its way into his voice as he goes along now, but it's melted away by the end. ]
And that's to say nothing of how we got to where we are now. Lucifer did a fine job of stopping you from insulting his daughter.
[ It goes without saying that the radio demon would have handled things quite differently. ]
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That's not what I mean. You're right that she needs you to get her shit in order. Needs your help. But she doesn't need you. 'Cause she doesn't realize how much your help has been keeping her head above the water. Not sure she even cares. She's just gonna keep stumbling forward like a blind animal, with or without you.
[And it's gratifying to know that Charlie doesn't seem to give a shit. Alastor came to her with an offer to help, she took it and exploited it, but now Alastor's gone and she's doing nothing about it. Like he was never there at all- like it never mattered to her. It's delicious. He's not sure whether Alastor cares just how unappreciated he is, but Vox will rub it in anyway.]
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So he listens in silence, eyes half-lidded, the ever present smile on his face betraying no emotion. His response isn't immediate, but he keeps his eyes on the other man. ]
I came to the same conclusion.
[ There's no sense in pretending otherwise, but the words are heavier than he means them to be. It's one of those rare moments where the exhaustion starts to leak through the cracks that started forming a hundred years ago, little chips that rapidly became fissures, because he's sick of everyone and everything.
He takes another pull on his cigarette, then taps it against the rim of the glass, and in a lighter tone he adds, ]
Of course, I always knew that you love me most.
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He laughs loudly- almost a bark- and tilts his head to peer Alastor's way.]
Love? Yeah right. If there's not even friends in Hell, there's definitely no love. Anyone who thinks they've got that kinda emotion for anyone but themselves is delusional. Just... lying to themselves, 'cause if they can love, maybe they're not totally rotten to the core.
[He takes a drag from his cigarette and looks back towards the movie, where Santa is doing... something or another. Hell if he knows. His expression is so glazed over, it's evident he's not actually watching.]
... Fucking useless emotion anyway, love. Who needs that?
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Unfortunately for all of them, there's no happy endings in Hell. ]
You're close. It does exist, but it isn't anything worth pursuing. Even if it appears to be burning bright at the start, the fire in the heart of any person will flicker out over time.
[ He waves the hand with the cigarette a bit, then shakes his head. Love was the wrong word for it, even if he had said it in jest. What they have is something harder to define. ]
And then one day, you realize that all you've done is ruin a good thing.
[ He reaches over to poke the bottom corner of Vox's head as he finally gets around to correcting himself, ]
Fine then. You need me.
[ That's fortunate for them, or maybe just the opposite. Love grows cold with time, but need can last forever.
His gaze remains on the other even when he looks away, unwavering. ]
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He's silent for a moment as he tries to figure out what to even say or do. At the very least, the touch drew his attention away from the movie and back to Alastor again. Now he's left staring the Radio Demon down, looking thoughtful. Almost lost. Until finally, he settles on bitter acceptance.]
Sure. Fine. I need you. Hell would be real fucking boring without you, anyway. [With that, he finally looks away from Alastor again, instead peering down at the empty glass as he taps his cigarette against the rim.] ... Don't think for even a second that's a sign of weakness. I just like the challenge.
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He looks away just briefly to take a drag from his cigarette, just long enough to ensure he's not blowing smoke in Vox's face. He won't call it a sign of weakness, or at least not today. They're at a point where it no longer serves much purpose, and his mind has started to wander. There's some feeling that has started to tug at him, some thought that's started to occur to him, but it's still forming itself into something he can grasp.
So he doesn't call it weak, but instead continues to speak in a mild voice, ]
You're the only one in Hell who's still bold enough to challenge me, much less think that they can surpass me.
[ A beat. ]
Hell was much quieter before you arrived.
[ And it goes without saying that it would be if he were to disappear now. It's their shared signal, but it's also more than that. Vox speaks, and Alastor listens. Vox puts out a broadcast for him, offers one in return. He looks up at cameras when he notices them. He catches bits of news and segments. It's an attention that he's never given to anyone else, and in return Vox gives him attention that no one ever has.
Quiet isn't the right word, but boring doesn't feel right either - empty might be flow more naturally in the sentence, but it's still not right, and nothing else he can think of seems to fit. ]
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He takes another drag from his cigarette, humming absentmindedly because at first, it doesn't really click. Of course Hell would be quieter if nobody dared to challenge Alastor before Vox showed up, or even really go up to him. The more seconds pass, though, the more he starts to think that's not quite what Alastor meant.
No. He knows what that 'quiet' is. He knows it quite well, because he experienced it too. The cigarette is removed from his mouth again, held between two fingers as he attempts to make direct eye contact.]
Hey. You really not gonna tell me where you were for those seven years? I always knew you wouldn't have fallen to one of those miserable fucking angels, but to just up and vanish the way you did...
[The 'where's he been, who gives a shit?' was one of the biggest bluffs Vox has ever uttered aloud. In truth, it was a real mystery. The kind to keep him up at night. If it were a matter of being detained somewhere, Alastor's unique signal would've still been around, but the Pride ring was just so eerily fucking silent. Who or what could've made the radio demon disappear without warning? Vox took the opportunity and ran with it, but at the same time, he hated the feeling that came with it. It was some kind of loss.]
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Eight years ago, three things happened: Lilith Morningstar disappeared. The Radio Demon went off the air. The exterminations again.
Seven years later, Charlie Morningstar decided to start a hotel, and the Radio Demon returned just in time to become the benefactor for that ridiculous project. He went from running all over Hell to having to, as Vox had said, give up what dignity he had left for.
And it's not just the last eight years. It's been the last century of this deal. His freedom within it was like one of those optical illusions where the longer a person stares at the center, the more of it starts to disappear. His seven year trip wasn't the first or second time he'd been called upon. It's a familiar song and dance. He was treated well in between tasks, but a dog is treated well so long as it barks on command, and it's ignored when it's not needed.
Now here is, past all that, tied to a fucking chair, and it's the best that he's felt in decades. There's no need to play nice. He doesn't have to play house. He doesn't have to be that model citizen, or to handle every task diligently only to be disrespected, to fix things only to have them broken again immediately after, to nearly die and gaining only mockery in return. There's no one here who treats him like he's something less than human, like he's filthier than the dirt itself, or to rub salt in his wounds. There's no need to tolerate all of that without making too much fuss, even as that white hot rage burned within him.
The Vees are pleasant enough. Vox is simple and predictable. He can spit at him and insult him just as easily as he can have these conversations with him. He's someone that looks up to Alastor, however much he tries to pretend otherwise, and someone who had once been seen as an equal. Everything done up until now has been the way one acts with a human. Or maybe that's not it at all, and it's just how close freedom is - Vox is his most important tool for that, after all, and he reminds him constantly of how close he is to chewing through his collar and being freed from his leash. And then... He can make sure that something like that, like this, never happens again.
Alastor thinks on this for a good minute or so, swallowing down that familiar frustration that doing so brings, before he shakes his head. ]
Oh, I was just doing a bit of traveling. Nothing important, just a little piece of business that I needed to attend to outside of the area.
[ There's another wave of his hand, but he can't muster up quite as much enthusiasm as he'd like. He'd rolled over, sat, played dead, chased the car and returned on command.
He waves his hand again, drawing a few little circles with his cigarette as he tries to dismiss the length of time he'd been gone, ]
And you know how it is. You think that something will be quit, and before you know it, you've spent three times as long as you intended to... But here I am, back safe and sound, and it's here that I'll stay.
[ As to how it is that he was able to leave to begin with, given that a simple sinner shouldn't be able to, well... That he's less inclined to share. ]
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He's not sure why he was even willing to entertain an idle thought that Alastor would answer him this time.
Annoyed, he drops his cigarette into the makeshift ash tray. Still, he doesn't look away, instead sending a glare Alastor's way.]
You bet your fuckin' ass this is where you'll stay. You're mine now, and I'm not letting you go on any business trips.
[There's never going to be another moment where Vox is left wondering where the hell Alastor fucked off to. He won't allow it.]
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You won't even let me out of a chair.
[ The truth is, he doesn't have a taste for travel, and it isn't as though Vox were the only one who had noticed how dead the airwaves were. It was a connection to someone that didn't offer any closeness, though he doesn't think of it as such. In fact, he stopped noticing it at all after the first couple years.
That is, he supposes, one more reason that Vox has never managed to replace him. He quite literally can't connect or communicate with anyone else in the same way. He doubts that anyone else would even understand it.
The temptation to double down and point out that he came back is there, but after further internal debate he makes a different sort of decision.
He hasn't been paying much attention to it, but he thinks the movie is nearing its end. So he matches Vox's glare with his usual calm. ]
Well, I won't ask you to let me go all that far, but let me up for a moment here. [ He reaches into the glass, snuffing it out on the side of the glass before dropping it down, ] Ninety seconds.
[ That might be a bit suspicious, given that he hasn't asked for anything at all up until now. Vox is stubborn enough that he might dismiss it out of hand, too, and that might be even more satisfying than being accommodated for being able to forever deny him the why for this unusual ask. ]
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