[ Adam knows who Vox is, has seen his shit-eating-grin plastered on reports in the boardroom up in Heaven, he's never seen him face to face, though, it seems that this slippery prick always managed to somehow stay out of sight out of mind during the extreminations. But now that he's actually face-to-screen with him, Adam finds there's a certain pull about him... Then again, the Firstman always has had a fondness for watching TV up in heaven...
No, don't get distracted, Adam! You're here to save Lucifer from, whatever-the-fuck this is? ]
--What? Chill?... Fuckin chill!? Bruh, I don't fuckin think so, you all but fuckin fried my brains!
[ Grabbing Vox by the lapels of his jacket and hauling him up off the ground, snarling and huffing as he loomed in, his mask phasing out, letting Vox see his bloodshot golden eyes and the way his hair looked a little more poofy than it ought to be. ]
Yes this has everything to do with Lucifer! Fuck! Where is he? What did you fuckin do?!
[Two decades of putting up with Val's aggressive mood swings have trained Vox for this moment. He's stared into that type of wild eyes many times before, and while the fury was rarely ever directed at him for more than two seconds, experience is experience. He stares right back, careful not to show an inkling of fear. Weakness only throws fuel onto the fire. He'll just... dangle from Adam's hold and hope his jacket won't rip. Yep...]
He's inside. He came to me and asked me for a favor, so I did him the favor and now he's resting. Seemed like he really needed that rest, too. He was lookin' real manic, going on and on about needing a distraction.
[He's smart enough not to say that Lucifer accused Adam of trying to kill him, even if it's very prevalent in the back of his mind. Any mention of it is liable to backfire immediately.]
[ Oh, he’s resting? Adam’s grip tightens for half a second, not enough to crush, just enough to remind Vox exactly who is holding who. Vox dangles there, all rigid defiance and careful posture. Cute. Like that helps. ]
You let him in. Just like that?
[ His voice is sharp, edged in steel and venom, but underneath it there’s something else. A flicker. A pulse that doesn’t quite feel like his. God, he hates that. For days now, every spike of irritation has been tangled up with something warmer. Softer. Concern that isn’t his. Protective instinct that doesn’t belong to him.
Except it does. Except it doesn’t.
The condition of their punishment hums under his skin, and with it comes the faintest echo of exhaustion. A brittle sort of unravelling. Not from himself, from Lucifer, and Adam’s jaw tightens at it. ]
He came to you?
[ He repeats, incredulous. ]
Of all the greasy, morally bankrupt piles of circuitry in this damned place, he picked you
[ The anger is real. That’s his. Territorial, bristling, prideful, because Adam doesn't know Vox enough to make that comment, it's all negative emotions Lucifer relates towards him. Whenever Adam was down in Hell with his bitches, Vox was off hiding like one.
The worry, though, the intrusive, crawling worry, that's real.
He remembers the edge in Lucifer’s feelings earlier. The way it frayed in the middle. The flash of pain and fear that wasn’t theatrical. That was raw. So, if he’s resting, that means he crashed. Lucifer never crashes in front of people unless he’s too far gone to keep standing. Adam hates that he knows that. He lifts Vox an inch higher, eye level now. Golden eyes burn into the screen. ]
What kind of manic? [ He demands. ] Rambling conspiracy manic? Pacing and fuckin laughing manic? Or the ‘I haven’t slept in three days, and my wings feel like they’re made of fuckin glass’ kind?
[ There’s too much specificity in that question. He realises it. He despises it. ]
This isn’t— [ He cuts himself off, scowling. ] This isn’t fuckin concern, bruh. Don’t get smug. I just don’t like... variables.
[ Yeah. That sounds better. The condition of their punishment twists again — a faint residual impression of relief. Lucifer is relaxing somewhere nearby. Safe enough to drop. Safe because Vox helped him. Adam’s stomach knots. ]
That was fuckin stupid of him... [ Adam mutters, quieter now, more to himself than Vox. ] He doesn’t get to fuckin spiral in someone else’s territory without telling me. Not because I fuckin care. I don't! Because I need to know. Because if he’s unravelling, I fuckin feel it. Because every time he panics like a little bitch, it claws up my spine too.
[ Adam sets Vox down, not gently, but not violently either. A controlled drop. ]
I’m going in there. To wait it out. Just try and fuckin stop me. [ He says, voice steadier now, but still dangerous. ]
And if he wakes up more strung out than when he went in?... If I find out you made this fuckin weird? Or took advantage while he was off-balance? [ A slow, sharp smile pulls across Adams's mask. ] Then you and I are going to have a real fuckin educational conversation about what ‘favour’ means.
[ He pauses at the doorway, just for half a second. And under the bravado, under the venom, under the pride — There it is again. That gnawing, unwanted pull of worry. Please let him actually be sleeping. Adam doesn’t look back at Vox as he invites himself inside. ]
[There's a whole lot being thrown Vox's way here, from insults to vague remarks that just sort of sound like nonsense to him. And the insults, he'd expect from the head of the Exorcist army. Sinners like Vox are nothing but targets to this guy. Things to destroy on sight; not even people. But Adam's on a leash here, clearly, so for now it's all barking. The vague nonsense is a whole other problem, because it's starting to sound like Lucifer's not the only one who was spiraling.
Well, at the very least he's set down again. He lands nimbly on both feet as soon as Adam's hands release him, looking like nothing at all just happened. Threats? What threats?]
Right. Okay. Come on in, I guess. [He'd grumble about how this is wasting his precious time, but he knows better than to poke a feral bear. Leashes can be broken with laughable ease.] For the record, in my eyes a favor is giving a guy exactly what he asked for. Otherwise, my word is fuckin' useless and that's not the sort of reputation a businessman can afford to have.
[He follows Adam into the penthouse and closes the balcony door behind himself. While the rest of VoxCo is distinctly solarpunk in appearance, with its more pastel colors and abundance of plantlife, Vox's private quarters are far more reminiscent of Hell. There's bright red and blue colorschemes, neon lighting along the walls, a small bar nook, an open shutter that looks out over Shok.wav's tank one floor below... There's exactly one display of plantlife here, and it's a bouquet of rainbow roses in a vase, placed on his desk. The flowers display just about every color possible, so clearly whoever gave this to Vox had some very mixed feelings.
On the crimson-with-maroon-patterns sofa there is Lucifer. Vox even took the trouble of draping a blanket over him. Not that makes too much of a difference, since Lucifer is fully dressed under there, shoes included.]
[ There really was a whole lot being thrown at Vox, and Adam internally cringed at himself for unloading like that- But fuck, that was how having all of Lucifer's emotions, pains and pleasures running around inside his head, with his own shit, was making him feel. Unhinged, unstable, and yeah, spiralling was the right word for it.
He shifts slightly, having to duck to get through the door, glancing back at Vox as he sarcastically invites him in after he'd already passed the threshold... His leash taut but not restricting his posture, a predator coiled in Angel form. ]
--Shit, Lu!?
[ Upon spotting the Fallen trouble maker, Adam skidded across the floor on his knees, skillfully pulling his hooded mask off and tossing it aside, leaving it to rock back and forth between its horns where it lay, upsidedown at Vox's feet.
Concern over his very human-looking face as he leant in, getting a good look, Lucifer seemingly just slumbering. Adam sat back on his heels, the tension melting from his shoulders as they slumped, wings falling limp and tucking neatly partly down his back, half under his arms, before he nodded and turned to look at Vox. ]
Yea, I'll take a fuckin drink, dude.
[ He doesn't say it but there's a thanks in his tone.
Once he was convinced Lucifer was just resting, not dead, not unconscious or suffering from something he couldn't wake from, Adam rose to his feet and made his way over to Vox, taking in the design and decorations of the room like they were made to personally offend him. ]
Businessman... That what you call Overlords in the pits of Hell, you come from? I've heard of you... Never fuckin seen you in person before though, bruh... Why's that?
[ Adam loomed in a little too close as he spoke, getting a real good look at Vox's face. The Archangel loved watching TV up in Heaven, so there was a brief moment then, where he stared a little too long, golden eyes glazing over a touch before he snapped out of it. ]
Gonna tell me what favour he asked you for? Because I know the pricks got a death wish, but I can't fuckin see him asking you to torture him for shits and giggles...
Edited (logged me out as I was sending D:) 2026-02-18 18:41 (UTC)
[As soon as the mask is tossed towards Vox's feet, he considers picking it up. Then he realizes that touching one of the first man's belongings without permission could escalate the situation real fast, so he leaves it where it is. He makes his way over to the bar instead, taking a few bottles down from the shelves and setting them down on the counter. By the time Adam catches up to him, a small selection is already out.]
Not every Overlord is a businessman, and most businessmen aren't Overlords. What we all have in common is we know how to survive Exterminations. [He reaches behind the bar for two glasses, and when he turns around to set them down, Adam's up in his face. Literally. Vox stares right back up until the man finally breaks away.]
Look. All I know is Lucifer wanted a distraction. A hefty one. Words like "pain" and "damage" were included. "Nothing hospital-worthy" was pretty much the only limit. Not my business what he needed distracting from, but I did give him plenty of opportunities to back out, or tone it down. 'Cause, you know, I don't need the trouble that comes with knocking Lucifer on his ass against his will.
[He'd love to have that honor (again), but he's at a disadvantage in this world where the power balance and authority is concerned. He's not rocking that boat. In fact, he's already pushed too far despite the openings to back down and despite Lucifer's consent. If the king decides to be a little baby about what happened as soon as he wakes up, Vox is gonna have to run for the hills.
For now, he waves a hand over the selection of bottles.]
[ Adam’s used to people scrambling to pick up after him. Angels, demons, whoever. Just... not a Sinner Overlord. That’s a new low. Or high. Whatever. The point is, the mask can stay on the damn floor for now. He’ll shove it back on when he feels like it. He doesn’t exactly enjoy being seen without it, brand recognition and all that, also he feels vulnerable as fuck being seen, but Lucifer being a wreck kinda overrode his usual "look untouchable" policy. ]
Yeah? Cool. Awesome. That shit sounds like a fantastic little trauma dump we can circle back to literally any other fuckin’ day, my guy. Because I would absolutely loooove to hear every fuckin gritty, emotional detail. Riveting stuff. Surviving the exterminations, let's make a fuckin TV show of it...
[ He’s gotta hand it to Vox, though. The guy doesn’t rattle easily. That’s... rare. Impressive, even. Plenty of angels have folded under Adam’s glare alone. Vox? Barely blinking. Huh. Mental note taken. ]
...Fuck.
[ He squints at him, trying to decide if he even means the next part. Hard to tell when it’s him talking. ]
You think you could pull that same stunt on me?
[ Is that a challenge? A joke? A genuine question? Even Adam’s not totally sure. He exhales sharply through his nose and eyes the lineup of bottles like they're something he's never seen before. Wine’s usually his speed, classy, ancient, very "first man on Earth" vibes, but whatever. He slumps against the bar beside Vox, shooting a glance over his shoulder to make sure Lucifer’s still... there, still breathing. Still stubborn. ]
You actually gave him an out, and he didn’t take it? Man, that’s— that’s just... that shits brutal. Damn.
[ He drags a hand back through his messy chestnut hair, then down over his face with a long groan before side-eyeing Vox like the guy just proposed something insane. ]
Whiskey. You said it first, so that means it’s the best one, right? That’s how this works.
[ In Adam’s head, the logic is airtight. First man? Best man. First drink mentioned? Obviously top-tier. Duh. ]
[And at once, with a few simple remarks, Adam establishes himself as one of the most frustrating people in this world to Vox. He asked why he's never seen Vox in person before, Vox explained why in the most clinical way possible, and somehow Adam still manages to twist it around to something as pathetic as trauma dumping. Not only is that the most callous way to refer to genocide he's ever heard, it's insulting on the highest personal level. There is no trauma to dump because Vox was powerful enough and smart enough to avoid any of that. Fuck this guy.
Needless to say, he's not pulling 'the same stunt' on Adam, because he's not giving this man a single excuse to try and deliver some real trauma.]
Whiskey it is.
[He uncaps the bottle and, since the First Man here seemed a little unclear on what's even being presented to him, takes some ice cubes out of the freezer. It's not much in terms of watering it down unless Adam lets the glass stand for a while, but at least the offer's there. It raises the question of whether Heaven has any kind of hard liquor, and if not, whether Adam's ever had the chance to try anything like this. It's a hilarious thought that Vox will try not to focus on too hard, lest the amusement shows on his face.]
[For a while, he does dimly register voices. There aren't any emotions for a bit, because it's a lot like listening to a radio broadcast he feels no attachment towards.
Eventually, Lucifer's eyes open, and there's a clearly dazed look; he stares up at the ceiling for a moment...
Then his eyes shift towards Vox, expression hardening as his mind replays that moment before unconsciousness with absolute clarity. He won't be talking anytime soon, but it doesn't stop the Look he gives before he closes his eyes.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
No, don't get distracted, Adam! You're here to save Lucifer from, whatever-the-fuck this is? ]
--What? Chill?... Fuckin chill!? Bruh, I don't fuckin think so, you all but fuckin fried my brains!
[ Grabbing Vox by the lapels of his jacket and hauling him up off the ground, snarling and huffing as he loomed in, his mask phasing out, letting Vox see his bloodshot golden eyes and the way his hair looked a little more poofy than it ought to be. ]
Yes this has everything to do with Lucifer! Fuck! Where is he? What did you fuckin do?!
no subject
He's inside. He came to me and asked me for a favor, so I did him the favor and now he's resting. Seemed like he really needed that rest, too. He was lookin' real manic, going on and on about needing a distraction.
[He's smart enough not to say that Lucifer accused Adam of trying to kill him, even if it's very prevalent in the back of his mind. Any mention of it is liable to backfire immediately.]
no subject
[ Oh, he’s resting? Adam’s grip tightens for half a second, not enough to crush, just enough to remind Vox exactly who is holding who. Vox dangles there, all rigid defiance and careful posture. Cute. Like that helps. ]
You let him in. Just like that?
[ His voice is sharp, edged in steel and venom, but underneath it there’s something else. A flicker. A pulse that doesn’t quite feel like his. God, he hates that. For days now, every spike of irritation has been tangled up with something warmer. Softer. Concern that isn’t his. Protective instinct that doesn’t belong to him.
Except it does. Except it doesn’t.
The condition of their punishment hums under his skin, and with it comes the faintest echo of exhaustion. A brittle sort of unravelling. Not from himself, from Lucifer, and Adam’s jaw tightens at it. ]
He came to you?
[ He repeats, incredulous. ]
Of all the greasy, morally bankrupt piles of circuitry in this damned place, he picked you
[ The anger is real. That’s his. Territorial, bristling, prideful, because Adam doesn't know Vox enough to make that comment, it's all negative emotions Lucifer relates towards him. Whenever Adam was down in Hell with his bitches, Vox was off hiding like one.
The worry, though, the intrusive, crawling worry, that's real.
He remembers the edge in Lucifer’s feelings earlier. The way it frayed in the middle. The flash of pain and fear that wasn’t theatrical. That was raw. So, if he’s resting, that means he crashed. Lucifer never crashes in front of people unless he’s too far gone to keep standing. Adam hates that he knows that. He lifts Vox an inch higher, eye level now. Golden eyes burn into the screen. ]
What kind of manic? [ He demands. ] Rambling conspiracy manic? Pacing and fuckin laughing manic? Or the ‘I haven’t slept in three days, and my wings feel like they’re made of fuckin glass’ kind?
[ There’s too much specificity in that question. He realises it. He despises it. ]
This isn’t— [ He cuts himself off, scowling. ] This isn’t fuckin concern, bruh. Don’t get smug. I just don’t like... variables.
[ Yeah. That sounds better. The condition of their punishment twists again — a faint residual impression of relief. Lucifer is relaxing somewhere nearby. Safe enough to drop. Safe because Vox helped him. Adam’s stomach knots. ]
That was fuckin stupid of him... [ Adam mutters, quieter now, more to himself than Vox. ] He doesn’t get to fuckin spiral in someone else’s territory without telling me. Not because I fuckin care. I don't! Because I need to know. Because if he’s unravelling, I fuckin feel it. Because every time he panics like a little bitch, it claws up my spine too.
[ Adam sets Vox down, not gently, but not violently either. A controlled drop. ]
I’m going in there. To wait it out. Just try and fuckin stop me. [ He says, voice steadier now, but still dangerous. ]
And if he wakes up more strung out than when he went in?... If I find out you made this fuckin weird? Or took advantage while he was off-balance? [ A slow, sharp smile pulls across Adams's mask. ] Then you and I are going to have a real fuckin educational conversation about what ‘favour’ means.
[ He pauses at the doorway, just for half a second. And under the bravado, under the venom, under the pride — There it is again. That gnawing, unwanted pull of worry. Please let him actually be sleeping. Adam doesn’t look back at Vox as he invites himself inside. ]
no subject
Well, at the very least he's set down again. He lands nimbly on both feet as soon as Adam's hands release him, looking like nothing at all just happened. Threats? What threats?]
Right. Okay. Come on in, I guess. [He'd grumble about how this is wasting his precious time, but he knows better than to poke a feral bear. Leashes can be broken with laughable ease.] For the record, in my eyes a favor is giving a guy exactly what he asked for. Otherwise, my word is fuckin' useless and that's not the sort of reputation a businessman can afford to have.
[He follows Adam into the penthouse and closes the balcony door behind himself. While the rest of VoxCo is distinctly solarpunk in appearance, with its more pastel colors and abundance of plantlife, Vox's private quarters are far more reminiscent of Hell. There's bright red and blue colorschemes, neon lighting along the walls, a small bar nook, an open shutter that looks out over Shok.wav's tank one floor below... There's exactly one display of plantlife here, and it's a bouquet of rainbow roses in a vase, placed on his desk. The flowers display just about every color possible, so clearly whoever gave this to Vox had some very mixed feelings.
On the crimson-with-maroon-patterns sofa there is Lucifer. Vox even took the trouble of draping a blanket over him. Not that makes too much of a difference, since Lucifer is fully dressed under there, shoes included.]
... You want a drink, or...?
no subject
He shifts slightly, having to duck to get through the door, glancing back at Vox as he sarcastically invites him in after he'd already passed the threshold... His leash taut but not restricting his posture, a predator coiled in Angel form. ]
--Shit, Lu!?
[ Upon spotting the Fallen trouble maker, Adam skidded across the floor on his knees, skillfully pulling his hooded mask off and tossing it aside, leaving it to rock back and forth between its horns where it lay, upsidedown at Vox's feet.
Concern over his very human-looking face as he leant in, getting a good look, Lucifer seemingly just slumbering. Adam sat back on his heels, the tension melting from his shoulders as they slumped, wings falling limp and tucking neatly partly down his back, half under his arms, before he nodded and turned to look at Vox. ]
Yea, I'll take a fuckin drink, dude.
[ He doesn't say it but there's a thanks in his tone.
Once he was convinced Lucifer was just resting, not dead, not unconscious or suffering from something he couldn't wake from, Adam rose to his feet and made his way over to Vox, taking in the design and decorations of the room like they were made to personally offend him. ]
Businessman... That what you call Overlords in the pits of Hell, you come from? I've heard of you... Never fuckin seen you in person before though, bruh... Why's that?
[ Adam loomed in a little too close as he spoke, getting a real good look at Vox's face. The Archangel loved watching TV up in Heaven, so there was a brief moment then, where he stared a little too long, golden eyes glazing over a touch before he snapped out of it. ]
Gonna tell me what favour he asked you for? Because I know the pricks got a death wish, but I can't fuckin see him asking you to torture him for shits and giggles...
no subject
Not every Overlord is a businessman, and most businessmen aren't Overlords. What we all have in common is we know how to survive Exterminations. [He reaches behind the bar for two glasses, and when he turns around to set them down, Adam's up in his face. Literally. Vox stares right back up until the man finally breaks away.]
Look. All I know is Lucifer wanted a distraction. A hefty one. Words like "pain" and "damage" were included. "Nothing hospital-worthy" was pretty much the only limit. Not my business what he needed distracting from, but I did give him plenty of opportunities to back out, or tone it down. 'Cause, you know, I don't need the trouble that comes with knocking Lucifer on his ass against his will.
[He'd love to have that honor (again), but he's at a disadvantage in this world where the power balance and authority is concerned. He's not rocking that boat. In fact, he's already pushed too far despite the openings to back down and despite Lucifer's consent. If the king decides to be a little baby about what happened as soon as he wakes up, Vox is gonna have to run for the hills.
For now, he waves a hand over the selection of bottles.]
Whiskey, bourbon, gin or rum?
no subject
Yeah? Cool. Awesome. That shit sounds like a fantastic little trauma dump we can circle back to literally any other fuckin’ day, my guy. Because I would absolutely loooove to hear every fuckin gritty, emotional detail. Riveting stuff. Surviving the exterminations, let's make a fuckin TV show of it...
[ He’s gotta hand it to Vox, though. The guy doesn’t rattle easily. That’s... rare. Impressive, even. Plenty of angels have folded under Adam’s glare alone. Vox? Barely blinking. Huh. Mental note taken. ]
...Fuck.
[ He squints at him, trying to decide if he even means the next part. Hard to tell when it’s him talking. ]
You think you could pull that same stunt on me?
[ Is that a challenge? A joke? A genuine question? Even Adam’s not totally sure. He exhales sharply through his nose and eyes the lineup of bottles like they're something he's never seen before. Wine’s usually his speed, classy, ancient, very "first man on Earth" vibes, but whatever. He slumps against the bar beside Vox, shooting a glance over his shoulder to make sure Lucifer’s still... there, still breathing. Still stubborn. ]
You actually gave him an out, and he didn’t take it? Man, that’s— that’s just... that shits brutal. Damn.
[ He drags a hand back through his messy chestnut hair, then down over his face with a long groan before side-eyeing Vox like the guy just proposed something insane. ]
Whiskey. You said it first, so that means it’s the best one, right? That’s how this works.
[ In Adam’s head, the logic is airtight. First man? Best man. First drink mentioned? Obviously top-tier. Duh. ]
no subject
Needless to say, he's not pulling 'the same stunt' on Adam, because he's not giving this man a single excuse to try and deliver some real trauma.]
Whiskey it is.
[He uncaps the bottle and, since the First Man here seemed a little unclear on what's even being presented to him, takes some ice cubes out of the freezer. It's not much in terms of watering it down unless Adam lets the glass stand for a while, but at least the offer's there. It raises the question of whether Heaven has any kind of hard liquor, and if not, whether Adam's ever had the chance to try anything like this. It's a hilarious thought that Vox will try not to focus on too hard, lest the amusement shows on his face.]
You wanna pour it yourself?
no subject
Eventually, Lucifer's eyes open, and there's a clearly dazed look; he stares up at the ceiling for a moment...
Then his eyes shift towards Vox, expression hardening as his mind replays that moment before unconsciousness with absolute clarity. He won't be talking anytime soon, but it doesn't stop the Look he gives before he closes his eyes.
Fucking asshole.]