[Not really. Is it bad that Alastor's gotten a literal taste of him now? Is the radio demon going to be drawn back to that? Vox hopes not. A little play biting is welcome, he gets that all the time from Val, but this was an outright chomp with very different intentions.
He waits for the stitching to finish, still clenching and unclenching his fists every so often. The prick of discomfort in his other side is barely noted. Whatever's going on there is probably just papercut levels of injury for someone like him. Once the job's done he finally tries lifting himself up into something more of a sitting position, resting his weight on his bent elbows and lower arms.
His first instinct is to complain about the neon green, but he swallows that back down. He's on plenty of thin ice as is.]
[ It's a consideration that he doesn't tend to afford others. It's more care than he shows himself, despite it being the bare minimum, because Alastor is of that generation that believes themselves able to walk things off. If it's something he can't immediately heal, then quick stitches will do.
But Alastor is also a person who isn't inclined to admit to being wrong, much less apologize, and so it's in this way that he can that he can acknowledge that he had gone too far. He doesn't want Vox to be afraid of him in that way. He wants that sort of fear that's born from respect and acknowledgment, from the knowledge of his talent, not the sort of bestial torture he's capable of. The latter is a means to an end anyway, and one reserved for a specific group of people. Quite enjoyable, but in that sort of way that cream and sugar in his coffee are.
They're not friends, but they're... Something. And that look that had been on his face, the prickling tears and static, was something he hasn't seen before - almost like he were the monster he makes himself out to be - and it bothers him more than he thought it would. It tugs at him even as he slips back into his normal demeanor.
He reaches over to tug Vox's shirt down. There's no need to keep him looking like he's about to be dissected. ]
[Vox is also very much of the 'walk things off' generation. That mindset lasted for a long ass time. He holds himself back when he gets into too much discomfort, but even then it's the 'don't make any strenuous movements' type of holding himself back as opposed to just resting. He'll be stumping around Vee Tower again within a day, whether that's wise or not.
The wound still looks messy. Red is smeared all over his abdomen, some of it still shimmering wet. His shirt being pulled down helps to hide it, but he can still smell it and he can still feel it. It's disgusting. The first thing he'll do when he gets back is get in the shower and try to dab himself clean.
He sits up all the way, but doesn't stand just yet. His gaze goes towards Alastor's knees, lingers there for a second, then moves further up to meet his eyes.]
You feelin' better now? Less of a burning desire to kill?
[It feels dumb to ask, but he feels like he has to. Things have been unsteady ever since they made that deal- maybe even since Alastor came back and started working at this stupid hotel. Did this help with the reason he was invited over here at all?]
I don't plan on doing that again, if that's what you're asking. Your blood has a strange aftertaste.
[ Though that isn't stopping him from licking the blood that's left on his hand, starting with his palm. The radio demon is normally far more dignified, and this habit of his in particular is disgusting, but they've known each other too long for pretenses. He seems pleased with that much, at least. His ears are still pinned back, but his gaze does grow more relaxed as he moves onto licking his fingers.
At least it answers the question of if Vox needs to worry about being bitten, at least. His teeth are a part of his arsenal as much of anything, and he's already torn wires and the like with his teeth, but nothing as dramatic as trying to crush flesh and bone alike with his teeth.
He hesitates for a moment before answering more directly, ]
But, I am feeling better now.
[ For some definition of the word better, at least. That need to kill the man before him, to tear him apart, seems to have been snuffed out all at once. ]
[It was partly what Vox was asking, if only because he was considering offering it up as a solution to the bigger problem. That if it made Alastor feel better, they could make an arrangement to have him bite (but not eat!) Vox every so often to vent those emotions that Alastor insists he doesn't have. And then maybe Vox could electrocute Alastor every so often, and between those actions, some kind of twisted truce could roll out. If the aftertaste is too strange, though... No point to it.
The second Alastor starts licking his own hand, Vox's gaze is on the man's tongue, watching it lap along palm and fingers. That's... That's a little distracting. Ahem. He watches for the longest moment before finally tearing his gaze away, staring towards the door instead.]
Okay... Okay good. [A moment's pause, then he feels confident in getting huffy about what happened.] Now. Don't ever fucking put me on mute again, bitch.
[ Alastor drags his tongue along every digit without a care for what effect it might have on present company. The intention wasn't to get a reaction, but there is a satisfaction in watching Vox have to avert his gaze. He doesn't take it personally, but he does think that it really is no wonder that the man had to hook up with a porn director.
His ears finally lift back up in response to Vox's complaints. There's two more licks before he swallows and drops his hand back down. That's about as much as he's going to get off. ]
If you don't want to be muted, you should try staying quiet and listening every once in awhile. I don't think I've ever met a man who loves the sound of their own voice so much.
[That just fuels Vox's indignation even further. The way he remembers it, he was hardly saying anything when Alastor muted him. It was definitely far less than he usually would've spoken, and the hypocrisy is so thick, he has to point it out.]
Are you kidding? You're the one who dragged a simple message out into a twenty minute monologue! Fuckin' typical of radio.
[A dangerous thing for him to say, considering he got invited into this conversation because he'd overstepped some serious boundaries recently, but he couldn't stay silent on that. Which... maybe... proves Alastor's point. Ah fuck.
Shaking his head harshly, he finally starts getting to his feet, using the cables to help lift him up with more ease.]
Because you weren't listening. You stop paying attention the moment that something isn't presented in the form of a ten second sound bite.
[ Maybe he was being more disciplined than usual, but it wasn't enough, and in the end the conversation accomplished nothing except pointless violence. He had known that it would, too, so what was the point of calling him here?
The radio demon was able to get the answers that he was searching for, but even that feels like a waste when they do nothing to help him. It did, however, lead to him doing everything he promised not to in lashing out... The more he thinks on it, the more he's resolving to never do something this ill-conceived and ill-advised again.
Vox starting to get to his feet prompts Alastor to do the same, pushing himself and glancing toward the bedroom door. He's not planning on kicking the man out, but they've reached the part of the conversation where it turns into arguing, which means one of them is going to end it before long. That's just how it is with them. ]
[It's an almost childish little grumble. There's so much more he could protest. So much more he could point out to defend himself, but all those arguments just sort of die in the back of his mind. Opening that can of worms any further means they'll start bickering back and forth again. Vox isn't in the mood for any of that. He just wants to go home, get cleaned up and... whatever. He'll do whatever. It's been a long couple of weeks. Maybe he needs one of those detox treatments Velvette keeps talking about. He doesn't know what they are, but she swears that they help her recalibrate her... something.
He pulls his shirt down a little further and adjusts his jacket with both hands. It doesn't make much of a difference, what with the blood stains, but it still brings a sense of satisfaction just to know the fabric isn't awkwardly bunched up anywhere.]
Okay, well, guess that wraps it up. Next time, send me a letter.
[ Alastor offers no response, but walks to the door in silence. He's already written this entire intersection off, so why waste any more time on it? No, he's quite content to just open the door and gesture towards the hallway with a dramatic little flair, looking just the way heal always does. It's like the conversation never happened. ]
You know the way out.
[ Refusing to even show someone out is poor mannered enough that it tugs at him, but Alastor has exactly zero desire to see anyone while looking such a mess, and even less in answering questions. Vox will just teleport anyway. ]
[All the cables retreat into Vox's body with a discreet little whir and a snap. He doesn't need them to walk. He refuses to need them. It does mean his motions are somewhat stiff as he makes his way over to the door, one leg in particular bending as little as possible. Still, he's walking without support and that's what matters.
This is fucking awkward.
He pauses near the doorway, debating his options. Sends one more stare Alastor's way, even as he prepares to step out into the hallway. Ooh, it's so tempting. He shouldn't say it, but- Eh. Fuck it. He'll say it.]
See you around, friend.
[Boom, shot fired. Now he's going to step out into the hallway, unsure whether Alastor will let him leave on that note or grab him by the scruff of his neck to pull him back in.]
[ His grip on the doorknob tightens until his knuckles start to turn white. Vox is saying it to antagonize him, to mock him for backing out of inflicting a grizzly death on him halfway through, and there's a second when he considers finishing the job, but his appetite for it is gone now.
He isn't able to completely ignore it. ]
Stick to playing pretend with your bosses.
[ And would you look at that? They've upgraded from goons and partners all the way up to superiors.
He resists the urge to do anything rash and instead reaches out to pat Vox's side roughly - right where he'd just sunk his teeth in. ]
Go tell them about how you were nearly eaten by the big bad wolf.
[Ow. That stings; both the boss remark and the almost-shove to his side. His body reacts, trying to step away from Alastor's hand with an awkward cringe and a stumble. He deserved it, probably. He also thinks it was worth it.]
Yeahhh... No. That's not the kinda fairytale I'll tell.
[Which is to say, if it's up to him, neither Valentino or Velvette will ever find out he was even here. He didn't tell them where he was going, or even that he was going at all. But fine, whatever, he's retreating now. As soon as he's outside of the hotel, he'll zip up into the air and land on top of Vee Tower, then go through the camera system to get straight to his room.]
[ He doesn't even wait until Vox is down the hall to shut the door behind him, bringing the issue to a close at least.
What had he gained? Not much other than a cup of two of blood, if that. There wasn't enough pressure released to even offer a dab of relief.
He has the answer to his questions now. If killing Vox isn't an option, and living with him isn't an option either, then the only choice is to eliminate the threat in some other way. And that was always the plan, anyway - he just needs more time, he just needs more power, he just needs to get through this, and he'll be able to find peace.
Maybe then they can have it too. He can be free if this sentiment. Until then, Vox has served his purpose, and ignoring him will have to be enough. ]
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[Not really. Is it bad that Alastor's gotten a literal taste of him now? Is the radio demon going to be drawn back to that? Vox hopes not. A little play biting is welcome, he gets that all the time from Val, but this was an outright chomp with very different intentions.
He waits for the stitching to finish, still clenching and unclenching his fists every so often. The prick of discomfort in his other side is barely noted. Whatever's going on there is probably just papercut levels of injury for someone like him. Once the job's done he finally tries lifting himself up into something more of a sitting position, resting his weight on his bent elbows and lower arms.
His first instinct is to complain about the neon green, but he swallows that back down. He's on plenty of thin ice as is.]
Yeah... Good enough.
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[ It's a consideration that he doesn't tend to afford others. It's more care than he shows himself, despite it being the bare minimum, because Alastor is of that generation that believes themselves able to walk things off. If it's something he can't immediately heal, then quick stitches will do.
But Alastor is also a person who isn't inclined to admit to being wrong, much less apologize, and so it's in this way that he can that he can acknowledge that he had gone too far. He doesn't want Vox to be afraid of him in that way. He wants that sort of fear that's born from respect and acknowledgment, from the knowledge of his talent, not the sort of bestial torture he's capable of. The latter is a means to an end anyway, and one reserved for a specific group of people. Quite enjoyable, but in that sort of way that cream and sugar in his coffee are.
They're not friends, but they're... Something. And that look that had been on his face, the prickling tears and static, was something he hasn't seen before - almost like he were the monster he makes himself out to be - and it bothers him more than he thought it would. It tugs at him even as he slips back into his normal demeanor.
He reaches over to tug Vox's shirt down. There's no need to keep him looking like he's about to be dissected. ]
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The wound still looks messy. Red is smeared all over his abdomen, some of it still shimmering wet. His shirt being pulled down helps to hide it, but he can still smell it and he can still feel it. It's disgusting. The first thing he'll do when he gets back is get in the shower and try to dab himself clean.
He sits up all the way, but doesn't stand just yet. His gaze goes towards Alastor's knees, lingers there for a second, then moves further up to meet his eyes.]
You feelin' better now? Less of a burning desire to kill?
[It feels dumb to ask, but he feels like he has to. Things have been unsteady ever since they made that deal- maybe even since Alastor came back and started working at this stupid hotel. Did this help with the reason he was invited over here at all?]
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[ Though that isn't stopping him from licking the blood that's left on his hand, starting with his palm. The radio demon is normally far more dignified, and this habit of his in particular is disgusting, but they've known each other too long for pretenses. He seems pleased with that much, at least. His ears are still pinned back, but his gaze does grow more relaxed as he moves onto licking his fingers.
At least it answers the question of if Vox needs to worry about being bitten, at least. His teeth are a part of his arsenal as much of anything, and he's already torn wires and the like with his teeth, but nothing as dramatic as trying to crush flesh and bone alike with his teeth.
He hesitates for a moment before answering more directly, ]
But, I am feeling better now.
[ For some definition of the word better, at least. That need to kill the man before him, to tear him apart, seems to have been snuffed out all at once. ]
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The second Alastor starts licking his own hand, Vox's gaze is on the man's tongue, watching it lap along palm and fingers. That's... That's a little distracting. Ahem. He watches for the longest moment before finally tearing his gaze away, staring towards the door instead.]
Okay... Okay good. [A moment's pause, then he feels confident in getting huffy about what happened.] Now. Don't ever fucking put me on mute again, bitch.
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His ears finally lift back up in response to Vox's complaints. There's two more licks before he swallows and drops his hand back down. That's about as much as he's going to get off. ]
If you don't want to be muted, you should try staying quiet and listening every once in awhile. I don't think I've ever met a man who loves the sound of their own voice so much.
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Are you kidding? You're the one who dragged a simple message out into a twenty minute monologue! Fuckin' typical of radio.
[A dangerous thing for him to say, considering he got invited into this conversation because he'd overstepped some serious boundaries recently, but he couldn't stay silent on that. Which... maybe... proves Alastor's point. Ah fuck.
Shaking his head harshly, he finally starts getting to his feet, using the cables to help lift him up with more ease.]
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[ Maybe he was being more disciplined than usual, but it wasn't enough, and in the end the conversation accomplished nothing except pointless violence. He had known that it would, too, so what was the point of calling him here?
The radio demon was able to get the answers that he was searching for, but even that feels like a waste when they do nothing to help him. It did, however, lead to him doing everything he promised not to in lashing out... The more he thinks on it, the more he's resolving to never do something this ill-conceived and ill-advised again.
Vox starting to get to his feet prompts Alastor to do the same, pushing himself and glancing toward the bedroom door. He's not planning on kicking the man out, but they've reached the part of the conversation where it turns into arguing, which means one of them is going to end it before long. That's just how it is with them. ]
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[It's an almost childish little grumble. There's so much more he could protest. So much more he could point out to defend himself, but all those arguments just sort of die in the back of his mind. Opening that can of worms any further means they'll start bickering back and forth again. Vox isn't in the mood for any of that. He just wants to go home, get cleaned up and... whatever. He'll do whatever. It's been a long couple of weeks. Maybe he needs one of those detox treatments Velvette keeps talking about. He doesn't know what they are, but she swears that they help her recalibrate her... something.
He pulls his shirt down a little further and adjusts his jacket with both hands. It doesn't make much of a difference, what with the blood stains, but it still brings a sense of satisfaction just to know the fabric isn't awkwardly bunched up anywhere.]
Okay, well, guess that wraps it up. Next time, send me a letter.
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You know the way out.
[ Refusing to even show someone out is poor mannered enough that it tugs at him, but Alastor has exactly zero desire to see anyone while looking such a mess, and even less in answering questions. Vox will just teleport anyway. ]
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This is fucking awkward.
He pauses near the doorway, debating his options. Sends one more stare Alastor's way, even as he prepares to step out into the hallway. Ooh, it's so tempting. He shouldn't say it, but- Eh. Fuck it. He'll say it.]
See you around, friend.
[Boom, shot fired. Now he's going to step out into the hallway, unsure whether Alastor will let him leave on that note or grab him by the scruff of his neck to pull him back in.]
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He isn't able to completely ignore it. ]
Stick to playing pretend with your bosses.
[ And would you look at that? They've upgraded from goons and partners all the way up to superiors.
He resists the urge to do anything rash and instead reaches out to pat Vox's side roughly - right where he'd just sunk his teeth in. ]
Go tell them about how you were nearly eaten by the big bad wolf.
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Yeahhh... No. That's not the kinda fairytale I'll tell.
[Which is to say, if it's up to him, neither Valentino or Velvette will ever find out he was even here. He didn't tell them where he was going, or even that he was going at all. But fine, whatever, he's retreating now. As soon as he's outside of the hotel, he'll zip up into the air and land on top of Vee Tower, then go through the camera system to get straight to his room.]
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What had he gained? Not much other than a cup of two of blood, if that. There wasn't enough pressure released to even offer a dab of relief.
He has the answer to his questions now. If killing Vox isn't an option, and living with him isn't an option either, then the only choice is to eliminate the threat in some other way. And that was always the plan, anyway - he just needs more time, he just needs more power, he just needs to get through this, and he'll be able to find peace.
Maybe then they can have it too. He can be free if this sentiment. Until then, Vox has served his purpose, and ignoring him will have to be enough. ]