[Alastor's remark strikes Vox as ridiculous. Pointless. Who made it seem like he even has a choice in the matter? If Vox wants to do it again sometime, they'll do it again sometime. And he wants to push it further, it'll be pushed further. Not in the same sort of way as Valentino would with one of his toys, of course, since Vox has always found that to be in bad taste. Brutish and hollow. He prefers more subtle play, and what he wants from Alastor can't be gotten through that kind of force anyway.
He scoffs, tilting the muzzle around in his hand for a moment. Then he turns around to face the radio demon, grinning.]
Awww, it's cute how you think protesting is an option. It's not. But let's see where tomorrow's big statement gets us in terms of scheduling before planning ahead, huh?
[And with that, he leans in to plant the muzzle on Alastor's face again. No last words to get in for you, buddy.]
[ He recoils when Vox leans in. It's a barely perceptible movement, but more than he'd meant to, and more than enough to irritate him. This entire interaction suddenly has him feeling sore, and there's such a strong flare up of disgust that not even ripping the man before him into pieces could satisfy that emotion. He's unable to find any one thing to blame it on, and so he dismisses it as the liquor - the pendulum swinging in the other direction now that his usual mild manner has been disturbed.
But Vox isn't capable of anything but fucking up, so to pin it on him would be akin to blaming the janitor for mopping the floor. Alastor, on the other hand, should know better than to put himself in such a foul mood.
But he keeps it off of his face, maintaining that slightly bored look, and that's all that really matters. Vox can have his silence, and he can have his false sense of control, and Alastor can wait out the clock without paying him any more mind. Easy enough. ]
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He scoffs, tilting the muzzle around in his hand for a moment. Then he turns around to face the radio demon, grinning.]
Awww, it's cute how you think protesting is an option. It's not. But let's see where tomorrow's big statement gets us in terms of scheduling before planning ahead, huh?
[And with that, he leans in to plant the muzzle on Alastor's face again. No last words to get in for you, buddy.]
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But Vox isn't capable of anything but fucking up, so to pin it on him would be akin to blaming the janitor for mopping the floor. Alastor, on the other hand, should know better than to put himself in such a foul mood.
But he keeps it off of his face, maintaining that slightly bored look, and that's all that really matters. Vox can have his silence, and he can have his false sense of control, and Alastor can wait out the clock without paying him any more mind. Easy enough. ]