[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. ]
[Vox watches Alastor for a moment longer, trying to pierce that smug calm that always serves as a barrier. He fails miserably, as always. There's no way to know what Alastor's thinking or planning, no way to know the consequences of any favors he asks. The deal was imprisonment, so running away isn't an option, but sabotage is. Or just being a pain in the ass with another mean little cocktease move. But then... Vox keeps gravitating back towards Alastor regardless of all these tricks. It's just how they function. Maybe, after all these years, he's even become dependent on it.]
What, you gotta go take a piss?
[It's more of a joke than anything else. An offhand quip to try and get across that he's not really too worried. Subconsciously, he'd already agreed before even weighing the options. The cables loosen their hold, then slowly retract to give Alastor full freedom. Even so, he's ready to take it right back at a second's notice.]
[ He doesn't need to be released to do any of those things.
In truth, he had been waiting to see which way it would go. Vox is predictable, but he's moody. He acquiesces to Alastor in a way he won't others, but that doesn't mean he won't double down if he feels slighted. He does, though, and Alastor sets his mental countdown as he stands up. ]
I've been meaning to ask you: What are you and Valentino? Are you really just business partners?
[ He asks as he begins the process of dusting himself off and smoothing out wrinkles in his clothes as he asks the question. It's not the most important thing in the world, but there's a reason he approximated needing ninety. He needs time to put himself back in working order. But somewhere in that, he does too pay Vox a glance to signify that he is asking in earnest.
Now, why he would ask that is anyone's guess, but Alastor has a reason for everything that he does, and Vox should at least know that he tends to believing in minding one's business. Business is one thing, but personal relationships with others is another. It's something he neither questions nor comments on. He'd rather not here, even, but he's decided this to be necessary information. ]
[The question feels like a mockery. There's something in the tone of voice and that sideways glance to indicate real intent, but the context is what makes it feel off. Besides, Vox doesn't like the question regardless of where it came from. Doesn't like sticking a label on it, because that relationship is meant to be flexible. It's has to suit whatever Vox needs from Val in that moment. That's what it's all about, in the end: gain.
He watches Alastor closely. Not just the physical movements, but the facial reactions. Something inside him braces again. Walls are put up to protect himself from whatever inane bullshit is about to be flung his way.]
Yeah, we are. We're partners in all sorts of transactions. [And Vox really doesn't need to say what those transactions are out loud, because Alastor's already seen it play out up close.]
Go on, do indulge me. What else did you think we could be?
[ Alastor rolls his shoulders in response. He has his own suspicions that Valentino wants to have Vox's undivided attention, and perhaps that it is genuine, or perhaps it isn't. It's none of Alastor's business. Likewise, Vox might be honest here, or perhaps not, but that's not for him to decide.
He has his suspicions. He has his own thoughts on the matter. It's still not his business. ]
What does it matter? You've answered my question.
[ But he has seen it play out up close, and he has seen what he has, so he felt the need to confirm. He turns on his heel, standing in front of Vox, leaning forward just slightly. There's a touch of trepidation to his movements, complete with his hands clasping behind his back despite there being nothing to hold, but nothing more. That expression is ever hard to read, but there's no malice. ]
But as you know, I'm quite old fashioned...
[ He's giving Vox exactly two seconds to stop him for whatever it is that he has in mind because if not immediately shoved away, he's going to make his move here. ]
[It absolutely fucking matters to Vox, because to raise the question at all implies that there were alternative answers. Something that's not business partners (with benefits). Vox already made it perfectly clear how he feels about love, so there isn't a rank up from that business partners thing. Not anymore, anyway. That hypothetical partnership with more meaning was scrubbed seven decades ago.
Alastor goes to stand in front of him, even leans forward, and Vox does nothing to stop it. He considers pointing out that Alastor's blocking the screen, but even that doesn't get put into action. He's too drunk and too curious what the point is. While he sits up straighter and his eyes narrow further, those two seconds pass in utter silence.]
[ It does imply that, but he really does have all of two seconds, because Alastor's reason for asking is that he's ever stuck in that gentlemanly attitude, and so he would otherwise be a homewrecker.
He does have this sense that Valentino wants something more. Why that might be, he does not question of care, because all he needed was that little bit of confirmation. ]
... So I couldn't have done this otherwise.
[ There's that sly grin, and Alastor works as he speaks. He's quite quick about it, and by the final word one hand is on Vox's shoulder, and the other resting on the bottom of Vox's screen. It's not a harsh grip in the least. It's only meant to allow him to tilt Vox's head up, and to hold it in place if needed. It is, in fact, unusually delicate.
Alastor doesn't want anything to change. He could never accept anything serious. He's made his feelings a hundred times over in this conversation. Vox knows that, and so he can do this. He can play along with this last part of this stupid performance, this ridiculous sham of a date - ]
... "I had a wonderful time tonight. Let's do this again soon."
[ Those words come out, and quite before Vox can respond he'll press a kiss against the other. It's a strange experience, but the chaste nature of it allows him to ignore most concerns, and he pushes off the other's shoulder with the hand that had been placed there. Punctuate as always, it does wind up being at precisely the ninety-second remark that he's back in his seat, and as he flops down he continues on - ]
- You're supposed to say something like that, anyway. It's been awhile.
[Some little part of Vox, lurking far back in the shadows of his mind, was hoping a kiss might happen at some point. Is now entertaining the intrusive thought of 'what if he leans in?' with a curious voice. That little part is mocked and ridiculed by the rest of him for its naivety. Alastor would never, and this evening alone was already full of little teases that got Vox's hopes up for nothing. The hand on his torso, the foot pulling at his ankle, the popcorn feeding bait... No, it's all just a mockery. A game that Vox himself set up, and Alastor is playing along. None of it would happen for real.
A hand touches down on his shoulder. Another grabs his screen. He still doesn't believe it. Alastor speaks the sham words, the fake promise of a repeat, and Vox is convinced that that's where it'll end. Alastor will sit back down and pretend nothing happened, and that will be the end of it.
How wrong he is.
As soon as Alastor's mouth presses against his own, he freezes in his seat, shoulders hunching and blush shooting across his screen. It's brief and surface level, more of a peck than anything else, but it has the impact of a sledgehammer directly to the sternum.]
[Once Alastor pulls away, Vox transitions straight into a 'no signal' screen, his thought processes crashing so hard that he's basically dissociated. It holds for a good five seconds before a loud rush of static escorts him back to the present.]
Is Vox winning or is he losing? Did he get one-upped or did he just get what he wanted? He's so confused and all he can do is plaster on a weak smile.]
That- Uh- Yeah. That's... That's a thing you could say.
[ Alastor brings his index and middle fingers up to touch his lips. It was a unique experience to kiss a TV. There was no good way to angle his head so his nose didn't brush up against it, and the sensation isn't like anything he's had before. There's no real taste, given how chaste it was, but that might have been different too - flavored with gin and smoke, and a little something else. And if he's been in Hell far too long to think that hard on it, well - it is still a bit odd to kiss another man. It's something new for him, and he's not altogether sure how it feels.
Fortunately, he doesn't need to think too hard about it. This entire date is just performative anyway. Alastor has made his feelings quite clear.
More relevant is the reaction that he gets, which is not quite what he expected. There's a little giggle as the man loses his signal, because that's far more than he would have ever predicted in response to something so small. He once more thinks that after his little display of exhibitionism, Vox has no excuse to act so dramatically in response to the smallest form of affection. ]
Wonderful! It's been so long, I thought I might have forgotten the proper etiquette... I do believe that you're supposed to wait until you've seen your partner home, but that's not really an option here.
[ Their living situation means that it would just be awkward, actually. But he is pleased with the reaction. ]
[Vox continues to be conflicted for a while longer, trying to puzzle out which step of 5D chess they're on at the moment. Only then does he realize that spending time on it at all could already be part of a trap. Exactly what Alastor wants him to do. He needs to not overthink it and instead just play it off as something casual. Frivolous and mundane.
The movie's finished its big climactic moment, he realizes when he focuses on the screen again. It's just wrapping up a few loose ends, telling the audience the moral of the story all over again (as if they hadn't emphasized it three times already). He doubts he missed much.
A furrow of the brow, then he looks Alastor's way again, head tilted lightly to the side. He's still got that weak smile on his face, too.]
You know that was the etiquette like... a hundred years ago, right Al? Things change! You don't have to walk your date home anymore, don't have to pay for dinner... And you can just bang it out on the first date if you're both hot for each other. Nobody gives a shit about it anymore!
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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?
no subject
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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What, you gotta go take a piss?
[It's more of a joke than anything else. An offhand quip to try and get across that he's not really too worried. Subconsciously, he'd already agreed before even weighing the options. The cables loosen their hold, then slowly retract to give Alastor full freedom. Even so, he's ready to take it right back at a second's notice.]
... No funny business.
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In truth, he had been waiting to see which way it would go. Vox is predictable, but he's moody. He acquiesces to Alastor in a way he won't others, but that doesn't mean he won't double down if he feels slighted. He does, though, and Alastor sets his mental countdown as he stands up. ]
I've been meaning to ask you: What are you and Valentino? Are you really just business partners?
[ He asks as he begins the process of dusting himself off and smoothing out wrinkles in his clothes as he asks the question. It's not the most important thing in the world, but there's a reason he approximated needing ninety. He needs time to put himself back in working order. But somewhere in that, he does too pay Vox a glance to signify that he is asking in earnest.
Now, why he would ask that is anyone's guess, but Alastor has a reason for everything that he does, and Vox should at least know that he tends to believing in minding one's business. Business is one thing, but personal relationships with others is another. It's something he neither questions nor comments on. He'd rather not here, even, but he's decided this to be necessary information. ]
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He watches Alastor closely. Not just the physical movements, but the facial reactions. Something inside him braces again. Walls are put up to protect himself from whatever inane bullshit is about to be flung his way.]
Yeah, we are. We're partners in all sorts of transactions. [And Vox really doesn't need to say what those transactions are out loud, because Alastor's already seen it play out up close.]
Go on, do indulge me. What else did you think we could be?
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He has his suspicions. He has his own thoughts on the matter. It's still not his business. ]
What does it matter? You've answered my question.
[ But he has seen it play out up close, and he has seen what he has, so he felt the need to confirm. He turns on his heel, standing in front of Vox, leaning forward just slightly. There's a touch of trepidation to his movements, complete with his hands clasping behind his back despite there being nothing to hold, but nothing more. That expression is ever hard to read, but there's no malice. ]
But as you know, I'm quite old fashioned...
[ He's giving Vox exactly two seconds to stop him for whatever it is that he has in mind because if not immediately shoved away, he's going to make his move here. ]
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Alastor goes to stand in front of him, even leans forward, and Vox does nothing to stop it. He considers pointing out that Alastor's blocking the screen, but even that doesn't get put into action. He's too drunk and too curious what the point is. While he sits up straighter and his eyes narrow further, those two seconds pass in utter silence.]
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He does have this sense that Valentino wants something more. Why that might be, he does not question of care, because all he needed was that little bit of confirmation. ]
... So I couldn't have done this otherwise.
[ There's that sly grin, and Alastor works as he speaks. He's quite quick about it, and by the final word one hand is on Vox's shoulder, and the other resting on the bottom of Vox's screen. It's not a harsh grip in the least. It's only meant to allow him to tilt Vox's head up, and to hold it in place if needed. It is, in fact, unusually delicate.
Alastor doesn't want anything to change. He could never accept anything serious. He's made his feelings a hundred times over in this conversation. Vox knows that, and so he can do this. He can play along with this last part of this stupid performance, this ridiculous sham of a date - ]
... "I had a wonderful time tonight. Let's do this again soon."
[ Those words come out, and quite before Vox can respond he'll press a kiss against the other. It's a strange experience, but the chaste nature of it allows him to ignore most concerns, and he pushes off the other's shoulder with the hand that had been placed there. Punctuate as always, it does wind up being at precisely the ninety-second remark that he's back in his seat, and as he flops down he continues on - ]
- You're supposed to say something like that, anyway. It's been awhile.
[ Not since he was still a living human. ]
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A hand touches down on his shoulder. Another grabs his screen. He still doesn't believe it. Alastor speaks the sham words, the fake promise of a repeat, and Vox is convinced that that's where it'll end. Alastor will sit back down and pretend nothing happened, and that will be the end of it.
How wrong he is.
As soon as Alastor's mouth presses against his own, he freezes in his seat, shoulders hunching and blush shooting across his screen. It's brief and surface level, more of a peck than anything else, but it has the impact of a sledgehammer directly to the sternum.]
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Is Vox winning or is he losing? Did he get one-upped or did he just get what he wanted? He's so confused and all he can do is plaster on a weak smile.]
That- Uh- Yeah. That's... That's a thing you could say.
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Fortunately, he doesn't need to think too hard about it. This entire date is just performative anyway. Alastor has made his feelings quite clear.
More relevant is the reaction that he gets, which is not quite what he expected. There's a little giggle as the man loses his signal, because that's far more than he would have ever predicted in response to something so small. He once more thinks that after his little display of exhibitionism, Vox has no excuse to act so dramatically in response to the smallest form of affection. ]
Wonderful! It's been so long, I thought I might have forgotten the proper etiquette... I do believe that you're supposed to wait until you've seen your partner home, but that's not really an option here.
[ Their living situation means that it would just be awkward, actually. But he is pleased with the reaction. ]
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The movie's finished its big climactic moment, he realizes when he focuses on the screen again. It's just wrapping up a few loose ends, telling the audience the moral of the story all over again (as if they hadn't emphasized it three times already). He doubts he missed much.
A furrow of the brow, then he looks Alastor's way again, head tilted lightly to the side. He's still got that weak smile on his face, too.]
You know that was the etiquette like... a hundred years ago, right Al? Things change! You don't have to walk your date home anymore, don't have to pay for dinner... And you can just bang it out on the first date if you're both hot for each other. Nobody gives a shit about it anymore!
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