( active ) hazbin hotel: alastor

[radioshow]

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[trust_us_with_your]

His scowl deepened with each roll of emphasis. Vox rather expected Alastor to be especially obnoxious once he cottoned on, so he'd given himself at least a little time to galvanize his temper. To further prove himself, he slowly receded the cables, and tucked them away one by one.

"I'm not here to spy, if that's what you're suspecting." May as well cut that off at the pass. He began to move, his step slow and deliberate, all while keeping eyes on the other demon. In case he'd wind up too agitated after this talk, he could at least busy his hands a bit with the suitcase. Hey, he could change his mind if he wanted.

"I have an... arrangement." He paused, then turned his attention to the clothes, keeping them folded as he began unpacking.

Velvette called it 'body probation', but that's a lovely little chunk of classified information.

"I put in some time to make up for getting carried away with my last plan, and Val and Vel discuss returning access to my body back-ups." Was that a lie? Yes. Absolutely. But the best lies were ones easily sprinkled with some shadow of truth.

Because the full truth was... pathetic. God, it was so pathetic and he didn't really need any of that right now.

Vox grunted his frustration when this body's left arm twitched, sparked, and he took a moment to try and focus, get this fucking thing to cooperate. It's picking things up and putting them down, you had ONE JOB! This was ridiculous...!

[radioshow]

"What I'm hearing is that your companions are no longer willing to humor you, so you came slinking over here like the pathetic creature you are! You really do find new lows to sink to, don't you?"

Alastor isn't so inclined as to show kindness and sympathy at the best of times, and this is far from that. There's a satisfaction in watching him struggle, though he does well in keeping that thought to himself. He's even kind enough to avoid reminding Vox of the many times that he had pointed out that he was completely dependent on them. A smarter man would have put a back up plan in motion instead of continuing to shower them with platitudes.

But, that's not his problem. His reputation is on the mend now. He rests one arm on the top of his microphone, leaning forward. This sort of blatant antagonism is probably the best he can ask for.

"You should find better partners once you have it back."

It sounds like a joke, but it's really not.

[trust_us_with_your]

"Oh, no longer 'goons', huh? Are you feeling alright?" He flexed the fingers in that odd arm, and once things were right again, he pressed on with his task.

He expected this. Let Alastor talk. Let him get his licks in, get him bored and then he can get some peace. At the very least, he hadn't been tapped for anything like therapy or 'circle time' yet. Vox wagered Charlie was at least rubbing two brain cells together in the fact that maaaaybe having Vox show his face publicly around other guests wasn't the play right now.

"And what about you, anyway? You were talking about another chain holding me back-" Why, he even made a perfect mimic of his voice, eyes swapping to radio dials for the moment.

"You can't tell me you actually care about this 'hotel host' bullshit. So why are you still here?"

[radioshow]

The first two questions received no response. There was only that cheshire cat smile, a toothy grin that gave away nothing. One ear twitched in response to the change in tone, but nothing more. It had probably been a mistake to mention the second point, but Alastor was under no obligation to answer.

The latter question, however, was one he didn't mind answering.

"For the entertainment! Why, in all my years, I've never seen anything like it. In just a year, this ratty little place has gone from a dilapidated, empty building to to starting a war with heaven, to ending one, to bustling with activity, proving redemption to be possible, and working with angels! To say nothing of all the other guests. I'm on the edge of my seat waiting to see what will happen next."

He spoke of it the same way that one might when trying to sell a particularly interesting story. There wass a dramatic flair to it, and he stood up straight in order to accompany it with gestures to accentuate each point. He's delighted.

Of course there were his own personal reasons as well, but it was all interconnected. In the end, this ratty little hotel had proven to be worth investing in.

"Once it starts to bore me, I'll take my leave."

[trust_us_with_your]

That much he recalled in his surveillance casual observations. The place was a dump, falling apart, and when he heard the building was bought up, he had to wonder why. Then it was crushed, reborn, and Vox could quietly admit it was real estate he could have picked up, himself. Bit garish on the outside, but what in Hell wasn't?

However-

"...Bullshit." He stopped emptying the bag, and turned with a quirked brow the other demon's way.

"I've known you for the better part of a hundred years. Success isn't what gets your antennae hard. Schadenfreude does. The princess is winning, and has successfully made a kumbaya with Heaven; the most boring fucking outcome anyone can hope for!"

He raised a claw and gestured it at him. "Someone benefits from her success, and it sure as shit isn't you, Al. You've only ever cared about one guy: Alastor."

Then the hand was waved dismissively, and he turned to open a drawer, start putting the clothes he unpacked into it. "...So spare me. Or finish the job and kill me, or whatever."

Not like I have anything left. The way he shoved things into the drawer now looked more like he wanted to strangle the cloth, no longer caring if things were folded neatly. He didn't even care about wrinkles, too incensed to do more than just keep himself busy and try not to lash out again.

[radioshow]

"Who said anything about that? You need to clean the cotton out of your ears, because I've already said it quite clearly: There's no violence in the hotel."

Alastor speaks with that usual tone of his, and he'll go so far as to come directly next to Vox and pull at his screen - right around where the cheek would be - before slipping into the shadows and reappearing on the bed. He sits there, legs crossed.

He only cares about himself. Vox hasn't said anything wrong at all, save that Alastor is so pragmatic as to do what's best for himself without concerning himself with emotions. There's plenty of truth to what he says. There's plenty of things that he could pick on here, too, because he knows Vox better than anyone. There's plenty, but there's also an unspoken agreement between them, and Alastor only ever picks at his insecurities and nothing more.

Even what comes next feels like a lot, but asking is a necessary evil,

"Now, what is it that really caused you to come here?"

[trust_us_with_your]

The princess really had him trained. No violence, and he was abiding by it. Then again, the Morningstars were the only ones short of the Deadly Sins who could forcibly out Alastor if they tried, soft-hearted or not.

But deep down, some ugly, oily little feeling in his belly perhaps... wanted Alastor to finish the job. Better to die at the hands of an 'old friend' than some random maniac in this shithole hotel or something, right? Yet he instead tugged at his cheek, and Vox pulled away from it with a scoff and half-roll of his eyes.

The question had him narrow his eyes, mouth scrunched into a scowl. He shoved the first drawer shut, and all but tore the second off its hinges to continue his unpacking.

"...I'm out," he answered quietly, even if everything in him screamed to remain defiant. He'd already lashed out and even cried that night, looking as pitiful as he ever could be. But was there really any dignity he could gather up any more, after all of that...?

"You've seen the news feeds, haven't you? Val runs the company. Vel's been on board for that for a while. ...So." The heaviest 'so' he'd ever spoken. But he shrugged a shoulder, fought to keep his composure and an air of 'who fucking cares'.

"I'm here." Make it sound like your own decision, right? Because who needed them, anyway? He sure as fuck didn't.

He missed SHOK.wav.

[radioshow]

It would be lovely for Alastor to say that's no surprise, but it actually is. He's a pragmatic man. He understands that the Vees need one another, and there's a good reason that Vox was the only one that he's ever acknowledged. Vox has always been sharp. He was predictable and trustworthy. He had the capacity to be the strongest sinner in Hell.

The other two had no right to discard him out of hand, but well, that would be their problem in the long term. The Radio Demon has already since lost interest in that organization, because the only point of interest was right before him, and he would only regain any interest if Vox entered the scene again.

"Hmm. I did, but I never thought I'd see such a pitiful display of self-loathing from the Media Overlord."

He's resting one arm on the dresser now, leaning on it, eyes half lidded as he stares at the other. Vox isn't a stupid man, nor a weak man. He's one of those few people who can stare down the Radio Demon. But here he is, acting so pitiful, so much like Charlie on that day.

But, unlike Charlie, Vox is an absolute moron, so he'll state it more clearly:

"And, how long will the Vees last without you? You were their publicist."

Mockery and comfort, because everything is about to fall down, but only for his absence.

[trust_us_with_your]

"I was the fucking BRAINS of the outfit!" He growled, and with nothing else to add to the drawer, his hands were left empty. Before he could claw the material of the furniture before him, he opted to bring his arms to cross against his chest.

He began to pace, already restless without his system, all the feeds, all the people clamoring for his attention and authorization on this and on that-

"I give it two months! The first few weeks of the honeymoon phase, people talking about the big change in waves as they speculate, wonder where I've gone, maybe... but the beauty and the curse of news is that they'll soon grow bored of spinning their wheels and move on. Attention wanes, then those two have to somehow come up with a way to be relevant again. I wager they'll borrow a few things I had left over, projects and copy they have authorization to access..." He could see it so vividly now. They had their methods, but they didn't have that spark like HE did. Surely, they'd cannibalize his hard work until there was nothing left, if anything to keep from putting in the effort.

"Then it all comes crashing down when they hit the bottom of the barrel. If they're smart, they look for me and come crawling back on their hands and knees, begging me to come back!"

[radioshow]

Alastor plopped down on the bed as Vox went on. He hung off of it, his back bent at an unnatural angle. The top half was belt at a perfect ninety degree angle, ears brushing against the floor and the very tips bent against it. It was the closest he had ever gotten to a frown, and even then it was only a mockery of one; his grin is upside down, but it was easy, collected and calm. His hands remained folded over his stomach, and they rested on his staff.

There wasn't the same need to antagonize and isolate him now, and in fact at this point that would be detrimental (or maybe it's precisely because it was and would be that he could speak like this,) and so Alastor was just a tad more generous.

"Well, two months is more than long enough for your media empire to be irreparably damaged! New sinners appear on the daily," He drew one knee up, then crossed the opposite leg over it, "And with them they bring new ideas and expertise. Your brand has only survived up until now because you were able to keep an iron grip on it."

To say that he preferred the company of the other two Vees would be an understatement, but Alastor had no illusions about who had what talents. The other two didn't have the same obsessive fixation on image.

How unfortunate.