[Dammit, this deer was made of at least ninety-seven percent annoyance. ]
I’m running a media empire and leading an entire Hell rebellion. [It was ground out between his teeth, claws digging into his desk until the carved groves told angry tales. Why was he here?
…Vox knew why. Sure, he could say that he wanted to keep an eye on him, to make sure he didn’t escape and find some way out of the deal, but it was really just so he could gloat. Lording everything over him was satisfying, a smug enjoyment that had been waiting for decades to come to fruition, an edging that had been far, far too long. And now that he had it, there was something to say about the afterglow.
But this was annoying. On purpose.]
Maybe you don’t know what work looks like since you were just a, what, bellhop at that hotel? How much did the princess have you take care of, anyway? How did it feel being someone’s lackey?
[Fine, Alastor. Didn’t want to sit there and shut up? Have all of Vox’s smug attention. Was this better?]
It would be downright insulting if it were anyone else, but with Vox, negative opinion is akin to the highest of praise. Here is a man who's spent decades trying to get his attention with pitiful efforts to get under his skin, only to fail every time. Meanwhile, Alastor's very existence is enough to peeve him, and his nonchalance all the more. ]
Why, I'm a radio host! Have you forgotten already? You used to listen to my broadcast.
[ The statement is impersonal, nothing like when he had mentioned their shared past before. He might be a perfect stranger and it would have the effect. ]
This hotel business is just a bit of charity work I've been doing on the side, and I have to say that it's far more entertaining than I ever thought it would be. Who would have thought that angels could be killed so easily?
[ There's a short laugh, but he does fix Vox with a bit of a smug look. The man was always just copying off of his work and however much he wants to mock Alastor for his defeat, there's no denying how many doors that hotel had opened. ]
And that's not all I've gotten out of the deal.
[ Alastor did do a lot, though, enough that they were overwhelmed without his assistance. It must be worse now too, but that's not really his problem. ]
[Ugh. Why did he have to keep bringing up the past? What Vox used to do didn’t matter, especially after he changed listening to it out of admiration and into something else. Anger. Hatred. Fear.
But he did listen, at least until it stopped.]
You just love living in the past when I’m creating a shining new future. [Claws tapped against his desk, trailing over the top as he went back to claim his chair.] That’s why you’re going to be forgotten and I’m going to be a god; it’s all your lack of foresight and relevance.
[Foreshadowing much?
The angel comment drew his gaze, caught between being annoyed that he didn’t get feel the satisfaction of killing one himself (yet) and that the angels hadn’t just killed Alastor and saved him the trouble. He pulled a laptop over and started typing it, not raising his eyes to look at him.]
How many angels did you kill again? I just remember one of them kicking your ass and you running to hide after. Tell me, how did that feel?
[The smile was wide and smooth across that digital face. He knew that Alastor was baiting him on that last sentence and Vox refused to fall for i-]
It doesn’t count without a notarized contract. Everyone in entertainment knows that.
True, and that is what you were worried about, now isn't it? Well, one of the things, anyway. That's why your little spy is still staying there.
[ He leans back in the chair and kicking his feet up on the desk in the same way that Vox has a tendency to. He's not quite sure how Vox manages to stay in that position, finding it to be uncomfortable at best, but he can handle it for a minute or two here.
Before Vox can even start to process his answer, he's going to pivot right back to the original talking point, speaking in that rapid yet comprehensible, theatrical manner that's only possible for those in who excel in the media industry. ]
But, I haven't answered your question at all, now have I? Well, the problem is that I lost count! There were the ones that were in pieces after hitting my barrier, and there were the ones I tore to pieces...
[ He rocks back and forth in his chair as he explains, completely nonplussed by the mention of his defeat, ]
And of course, I'm the only sinner that's ever survived an encounter with Archangel at all.
[ Retreat or otherwise, he had done the impossible. He drops his feet down now, tired of that awkward position. ]
And best of all, I didn't need anyone to help me do any of it! In fact, the only reason anything happened at all was my efforts.
[ The opposite of Vox, so dependent on others. Everyone around Alastor needs on him, including the Princess of Hell. ]
Stop pointing out things he’s worried about, you staticky asshole. He pursed his lips and blew a raspberry, following it up with a-- ]
Psshh! What? No!. I’m not worried about anything; my plan is working fine. My little bug is staying where he is because he’s useful. He’s my tool. …And a tool.
[Ha. Get it?
Did Alastor ever shut up?! It was a constant barrage of blah blah blah. And besides, now he was just BSing.]
Shields don’t count, everyone knows that. That’s like saying you built a wall so everyone who walks into it is your kill count. And encounters don’t count if you don’t win.
[Or draw, at least. Either way, Alastor hadn’t won, and Vox took this moment to selectively ignore that part where he talked about who the Radio Demon tore apart. Just…forget about that. That was bad press. But the dig couldn’t be wholly ignored, leaving him to glare for a second before looking bored. ]
You say that, but you’ve never proven that. You’re just trying to make yourself sound more important than you are.
Tell me…
[Long fingers folded in each other as he leaned forward, resting his head on his knuckles.]
…do you think she’s actually going to come after you? Save you? Do you think she needs you right now?
[ He does not, and this is what Vox signed up for. ♥
There's a long moment of silence in response to the question. It hangs thick in the air as Alastor stares at Vox. His expression betrays no emotion. His smile doesn't waver.
He waits just long enough for it to seem like he's not going to answer at all before responding: ]
Let me ask you this in return: Do you think I would let someone save me?
[ He knows that the princess needs him, but Alastor doesn't need anyone. He never has. Besides - ]
[Vox would like to say he regrets it, but tied up, at his mercy, being paraded out there in a humiliation ritual? Nah. Still worth it.
He sat in the silence, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Like a sucker, he started to open his mouth before Alastor started to talk, the dramatic dick just waiting to make things painfully awkward.
But he wasn’t wrong. Alastor loved to tout about how he worked alone, didn’t need anyone, ha ha Vincent. Would he have let Charlie help?
Vox leaned back in his chair, putting his feet on the table and honestly, Al, it wasn’t that bad. Get some ankle strength.]
When does the princess listen to anyone? She does what she wants because she thinks she’s helping. [His hands clasped, swinging side to side in a mockery of sweetness. Gross.] She thinks she’s better than everyone else, that she knows best. So why isn’t she at least trying to save you, unless you don’t matter?
[ Listen, some people were raised with enough manners to not not put their dirty feet on the furniture smh.
Vox wasn't entirely wrong in his assessment. Charlie was a strong-willed young woman, and it could be quite difficult to control her. Still, at present she had far bigger issues than the radio demon being kidnapped, and most of all when not a single person at that hotel would go along with any schemes. ]
Because I'm the one person at that hotel that she has any respect for.
[ If that might not be the main reason, it wasn't a lie either. Charlie had listened to him more than she did others over time. Besides, there wasn't a single person at that hotel who wouldn't dismiss any concern as Alastor knowing what what he was doing. He punctuated the sentence with a sigh and a shake of the head before adding, ]
Oh... Come on, Vox, don't you worry now. No one's going to come steal me away from you.
[ His tone turned into something amused and even teasing, because he found this angle better than back and forth. Unlike Vox who was in constant need of external approval, Alastor knew his worth quite well. ]
R-Respect? [Vox’s words stuttered with the laughter bubbling up and spilling free. Respect? Ha. Ha!] You think she doesn’t look down on you? That she doesn’t think she knows better than you? That she would redeem you in a heartbeat when we both know that’s impossible and not even something you’d want? Come on.
[She was easily moved, sure. Stupid, certainly. But she was prideful, had a superiority complex, and while Vox knew the spin was just that: a spin, those always had some foundational truth in there. That’s what made it work each and every time.
And amid that gloating and questions, Alastor interrupted it with … that. It wasn’t- he wasn’t worri- Fuck. The screen darkened with a flush across his flat cheeks, and he spun in his chair to try to hide it. No peeking.]
They can try; this isn’t a vacation, Alastor. This is being a prisoner. You’re annoying, but you’re mine.
[ Alastor's look only grows increasingly smug as Vox refutes him. The princess has her pride, she has her visions, and she has all those bad habits that come along with it, and that's precisely what makes his handle on her so impressive. His words have weight. It's no different than Vox, who he has under his thumb even now.
Though he is right about one thing. Alastor is someone who who would never want to be redeemed, and someone who she would want to redeem despite that.
But that smug look is finally wiped away by Vox suddenly spinning away. The darkening of his screen hadn't been missed, and it isn't quite what he'd been expecting. He cants his head, ears curving down to the one side, perturbed. It's not often that Vox acts in such an unpredictable way, but after a few seconds, he decides that the man being suitably embarrassed is all that matters and lifts his head back up. ]
So relax. I'm all yours. We aren't mimicking Beauty and the Beast or Rapunzel here.
[ Or some other fairy tale where Charlie can be the charming prince that saves the day (never mind that not applying to the former,) pick your poison. ]
We're in Hell, we're demons, and we're both far too old for those sorts of misadventures.
[Huh. Both of those analogies had people trapped in castles, and the current tower wasn’t that different. Most importantly, however, a castle needed a ruler, and this place certainly had one. A smart, talented, charismatic person to lead them all.]
Well, we all know who the Beast is in that scenario.
[Which probably wasn’t much of an insult to someone like Alastor. Vox pushed away from the desk, walked to the edge, and sat there, contemplating. Red eyes never moved away from the uncooperative-cooperative captive, confidence warring with the gut feeling that he was missing something. There was a play at work here. Something.
And then his ego chimed in and reminded him that he had fucking won, so those questions disappeared on the wind.]
You’re right. Time’s made us smarter than that. [His smile grew a bit wider, a bit toothier.] Well, some of us. Some of us are tied to a chair.
[Speaking of said chair, he made sure to kick it again. Shit, that never got old.]
Now, I’m going to shove you in a closet so I can get some work done, okay? [He rolled his eyes.] Ha! Don’t know why I’m asking when you don’t actually get a say in this.
[ It's unfortunate, but despite his physically features making Alastor a better fit, the role of the Beast could only go to Vox. He might not be a gentleman, nor shower his captive with lavish gifts, but pitiful attempts at gaining Alastor's approval are no different than the Beast so bluntly asking to sleep with Beauty. Alastor was a poor fit for both, being a person who actively avoided practicing kindness and sharing warmth... Though he was the prettier one. Much to think about.
The kick was anticipated this time. He pushed his heels back until just the tips of his shoes touched the ground, then pulled them up and back a couple inches more, before planting them back down once the chair began to roll. The stop could hardly be called smooth, but he had at least managed to avoid knocking into something. ]
Oh, I know. It's because you're hoping that this will be the time that I start bargaining and begging.
[ Alastor leaned back a bit, and his own grin stretched out further. Neither threats nor insults meant much to the radio demon, or at least not when they were coming from present company. ]
Too bad. I'd take a closet over sitting across from you any day of the week.
[Begging. Pleading. Actually acting like a fucking prisoner instead of a prima donna who owned the place. A little fear would be nice, a little hope Vox could squash under his designer heels and grind into these fine stone floors.
But nooooo. Still being a stubborn asshole, huh? He ground his teeth, ruling out the closet completely before trying to run through who he could stick him with. Val was violent (good) but could be manipulated (bad). Velvette was dangerous (good), but cocky (bad). He didn’t trust his assistant within a hundred yards of this asshole.
Fuck. He didn’t trust anyone with him, really. And he couldn't leave him alone like he wanted.
Dammit. He kicked the chair again but sulkily marched over to his chair and sat down in it. Satan, he hated this guy.]
[ Alastor was far more disciplined than most. It was nothing if not tiring to be dragged around, and it was unpleasant to be literally kicked around, but it was the behavior of a child who'd been given a new toy. It was nothing compared to what he'd endured in life. It was amusing, even.
He rolled further this time, skidding to a halt near the wall. He pushed it back just enough to have a comfortable distance between him and it.
The lateral threw him off. His ears twitched, one tilting down and to the side as he tried to discern the reason for it. He was, of course, but despite not having dealt with resource scarcity in nearly a century, Alastor tended to judge these things on the could be worse scale. ]
[Had he stopped? Well, ish. It had been wonderful to slam a whole milkshake while sitting across from him, the other straw left untouched. It had been wonderful to have his morning coffee and breakfast brought in and eat it without a concern. It was, in fact, wonderful knowing that he had dinner plans with Val tonight, long after the evening programming aired his gloating segment about the defeat of one asshole who loved radio a little too much.
It was always only ‘ish’. Adoring the victory did cloud the fine points of the defeat.
He tapped his fingers against the desk, before picking up the handset on his desk phone.]
Bring in lunch. [Pause.] Yeah, off that menu.
[And then he hung up. His smile was petty and faded quickly as he started to pick through his email on his laptop.]
I can’t have you starving to death before my big ascension.
[ The suggestion made him uneasy. Alastor had always been uneasy consuming things around other people. He would do so just enough to be polite at events, but never anything more. He was happy enough to fast during his time in the Vee tower.
He could trust that Vox wouldn't do anything to harm him, but he did wonder if this would prove to be one more way to mess with him. Pulling himself forward proved to be too awkward, so he spun toward the wall once more, pushing back on his heels until he felt the back of the chair hit against the desk. That done, he turned to face Vox once more. ]
Well now, I wouldn't die from a little starvation. It'd be far more boring than that. I'd just pass out at the most pivotal moment, and the events would be forever lost to time, and all I'd get was a dry recap upon my awakening.
[ It might have sounded like mockery, but it was only meant as a little joke between a pair of entertainers. They both knew the tropes. ]
[The wheels of the chair echoed in such a high-ceiling room, forcing him to glance up for a second. It was so frustrating watching Alastor control even the chair, making it move where he wanted it, using it to hit his desk. Couldn’t Vox have one thing that went his way?
There was a snort and a glare and yes, yes, he got what was being laid out before him. That would be terrible ratings, a shitty trope that wasn’t favorable to anyone, let alone himself. He needed Alastor awake, needed his most (ugh) important audience member to witness his triumphs, his victories.
And that meant keeping this asshole in working order. At least, for awhile.]
It would be rather anticlimactic if you did, a letdown after how much you’ve built yourself up. If I wasn’t concerned about the optics, I might almost enjoy how pathetic it would be.
[The door to the office opened, a hesitant sound as his assistant brought in two plates under silver cloches. They were set down atop the desk with a quick reminder to Vox about his two-o’clock meeting, and then he vacated, clipboard clutched in his free hand.
Vox looked over at Alastor, before raising an eyebrow.] Well, what are we doing about your ability to eat? I don’t plan on feeding you.
[ There was a shift in demanor for those moments in which Vox's assistant is in the room. It was subtle, but noticeable, in how he sat at attention. He followed the man with his eyes, his gaze sharp and his grin even sharper, and far more befitting of an infamous Overlord. It was there and gone, slipping back into something more casual the moment that they were alone again.
That was the question of the hour, now wasn't it? He could be so helpful as to give some suggestion, or at least point out the obvious, but there was no fun to be found in that. Besides, Vox would have an answer to this problem and do what he wanted to anyway.
Instead, he leaned to one side, head canted, his ears flopping down to one side. He squirmed just a tad, pulling at the restraints in a fruitless effort to move his hands. He was already looking appropriately pathetic, except it was all performative gestures.
He leans back in his chair, far enough for his feet to come off the ground, tapping the desk with the tip of his shoe. He shrugged. ]
[Vox’s gaze was on Alastor as Ethan backed out of the room, casually worried that there was a threat. Could Alastor kill his assistant even bound as he was? Probably. But Ethan was useful and had lasted longer than the last seven, so it would be a pain in the ass to lose him now. He didn’t have time for interviews.
But the door closed behind him without incident and they were alone again. The change in body language didn’t go unnoticed, and Vox had his own pieces as well: the relaxation in his shoulders, the pinched edge of his lips, the way his fingers relaxed against the keyboard. But confidence still ran through him, something tangled in deep with his ego, and his grin widened. ]
Yeah, you’re good at doing that, aren’t you?
[Very helpful, indeed. He took off the cloches to reveal two very different meals: one with a rare steak and a potato puree, and the other was a…garden salad. Dry. No dressing.
Vox smiled and slid the salad over to Alastor, before pulling the steak towards himself. As he cut into it, the juices started to spread across the plate, and he made sure to make the most audible MmmmMMmmmMmm noises as he ate. Really quite good.]
Hmmm, quite a conundrum. Looks like you might have to just bend over and try to have a bite, huh?
He's known this man for seven decades, and there was precious little that he could do to surprise Alastor. There was even less that he could do to upset him. In fact, he snorted upon hearing the comment for how ridiculous the suggestion was. Just as Vox has no doubt heard every joke and insult about his TV head, Alastor received no shortage of comments about his deer aspects when he arrived in Hell. ]
I'm impressed that your assistant has lasted this long.
[ It was a casual comment, one with no deeper meaning behind it. The look from before had been akin to putting on his public face, and so that observation was little more than a way of refusing to engage with the suggestion.
Actually, no, scratch that, he would - ]
And don't talk with your mouth full. It's ill-mannered. Boorish, really.
[ Alastor will scold him whether or not he actually was, because making sounds was also impolite. ]
Vox’s eyes narrowed by a degree or two as he tried to read him, before he took another bite of the steak. It wasn’t that he was protective over his staff – he wasn’t, why would he be? – but Ethan was useful and Alastor…
Well, he was Alastor.]
I know how to hire people and bring out their usefulness. We both get what we want.
[And that was what he had offered, once upon a time several decades ago. Of course, one of them had gotten what they wanted back then, to grind the other’s heart into dust with humiliation, but that was just something Vox was going to ignore at the moment. It could’ve been better. It would’ve been better if he hadn’t been such a raging assho-]
Mmmmm.
[Don’t mind him being petty and slightly childish; it felt good. The whole victory tour felt good, and so would these little swipes. Setting the knife and fork down, he leaned back in his chair.]
If you ask nicely, I might untie one of your hands so you can eat.
[ The man really did take pride in making a food of himself. It was enough to make him wonder if the actual torture was intended to be the secondhand embarrassment that watching him brought about.
He had the decency to treat it as a serious issue, but in truth, Alastor was that sort of person who might forget to eat for days if not for the fact that he found it to be one of life's great pleasures. Food was, up until a certain point, more of a want than a need. That was all that much more true in Hell, where there was no worry of dying from it. ]
You've already killed any appetite I had, but feel free to make the offer again in two or three months.
[ That's about the maximum amount of time a normal human could go without. ]
No, that's not nearly long enough... [ The words were said in a mumble. He flicked his eyes up and canted his head for a moment before letting out a huff, ] Oh, forget it. You can just wait until you have something worth asking nicely for.
[Again. Again, Alastor didn’t let it bother him. Smarmy and a…an utter asshole, he was proving to be harder to get what Vox wanted than he had originally thought. If this was showing him nothing else, this was still true: victory hadn’t been the end; it had been the beginning.
It would be worth it when the despair, the true defeat finally kicked in, when Vox found the pieces that broke this outdated hack.
Vox took another bite, but the enjoyment, the flavor had gone out of it, letting it taste like nothing but ash in his mouth. When he was ruling over all of them in Heaven and Hell, then he’d show him. He would finally prove without a doubt that he didn’t need anyone, least of all him.
Then he would really be free.]
If you’re looking for better mass appeal by thinking you’re too good for me and my gifts, you’re going about this all wrong. See, I’m offering you a last meal out of the kindness of my heart, but if you don’t want it…
[He shrugged a little.]
Be a baby about it. I don’t care. You can’t bring me down when I’m winning this fucking hard.
[ Alastor had earned high place as Hell's most terrifying Overlord. He was quite disciplined, and he knew how to maintain control of any situation. And he knew how to handle Vox best of all.
This was all just a temporary affair anyway. Alastor had his own plans. ]
You might have offered me a cigarette instead. I would prefer that over a meal... So, do be a dear and get me a pack of Marlboro the next time you go out. Black if they have it, but red will do if not.
[ The lack of smokes was the most bothersome part of this entire affair, albeit even that was little more than a minor inconvenience. That should be enough to make him feel important though now, right? Alastor was even giving him the chance to deny him something. No attempts at bringing him down whatsoever. ]
Vox couldn’t help the offended blink as he was – was given an errand? As Alastor gave him a chore?! His claws curled tighter around the fork before he slammed the sharpened tines into the desk, making the metal sway lightly as it stuck upwards.]
You must be losing your memory with your old age. I am not your assistant.
[Vox pushed out of his chair and slowly, deliberately stalked over to Alastor’s, pulling it away from his desk. Anger wouldn’t release him this time; he had been pushed far beyond his shortened limits. Hands slammed onto the back of the seat so he could lean close, nose to…well, flat television face. Red eyes darkened, narrowed with a rage that covered decades of lingering hurt that never went away, just festered like the wound it was.]
At the end of this, I will be your executioner and your god. [He bared his teeth.] And gods don’t go for cigarette runs.
[He stood up straight, let go of the chair long enough to go stand behind it, and purposefully moved it to the nearest closet. No more threats, just a promise and fulfillment in time out.]
You're boring me. [Which was an utter lie.] And I have work to do.
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no subject
I’m running a media empire and leading an entire Hell rebellion. [It was ground out between his teeth, claws digging into his desk until the carved groves told angry tales. Why was he here?
…Vox knew why. Sure, he could say that he wanted to keep an eye on him, to make sure he didn’t escape and find some way out of the deal, but it was really just so he could gloat. Lording everything over him was satisfying, a smug enjoyment that had been waiting for decades to come to fruition, an edging that had been far, far too long. And now that he had it, there was something to say about the afterglow.
But this was annoying. On purpose.]
Maybe you don’t know what work looks like since you were just a, what, bellhop at that hotel? How much did the princess have you take care of, anyway? How did it feel being someone’s lackey?
[Fine, Alastor. Didn’t want to sit there and shut up? Have all of Vox’s smug attention. Was this better?]
no subject
It would be downright insulting if it were anyone else, but with Vox, negative opinion is akin to the highest of praise. Here is a man who's spent decades trying to get his attention with pitiful efforts to get under his skin, only to fail every time. Meanwhile, Alastor's very existence is enough to peeve him, and his nonchalance all the more. ]
Why, I'm a radio host! Have you forgotten already? You used to listen to my broadcast.
[ The statement is impersonal, nothing like when he had mentioned their shared past before. He might be a perfect stranger and it would have the effect. ]
This hotel business is just a bit of charity work I've been doing on the side, and I have to say that it's far more entertaining than I ever thought it would be. Who would have thought that angels could be killed so easily?
[ There's a short laugh, but he does fix Vox with a bit of a smug look. The man was always just copying off of his work and however much he wants to mock Alastor for his defeat, there's no denying how many doors that hotel had opened. ]
And that's not all I've gotten out of the deal.
[ Alastor did do a lot, though, enough that they were overwhelmed without his assistance. It must be worse now too, but that's not really his problem. ]
no subject
Fear.But he did listen, at least until it stopped.]
You just love living in the past when I’m creating a shining new future. [Claws tapped against his desk, trailing over the top as he went back to claim his chair.] That’s why you’re going to be forgotten and I’m going to be a god; it’s all your lack of foresight and relevance.
[
Foreshadowing much?The angel comment drew his gaze, caught between being annoyed that he didn’t get feel the satisfaction of killing one himself (yet) and that the angels hadn’t just killed Alastor and saved him the trouble. He pulled a laptop over and started typing it, not raising his eyes to look at him.]
How many angels did you kill again? I just remember one of them kicking your ass and you running to hide after. Tell me, how did that feel?
[The smile was wide and smooth across that digital face. He knew that Alastor was baiting him on that last sentence and Vox refused to fall for i-]
It doesn’t count without a notarized contract. Everyone in entertainment knows that.
[That didn't count as 'falling for it'. Shut up.]
no subject
[ He leans back in the chair and kicking his feet up on the desk in the same way that Vox has a tendency to. He's not quite sure how Vox manages to stay in that position, finding it to be uncomfortable at best, but he can handle it for a minute or two here.
Before Vox can even start to process his answer, he's going to pivot right back to the original talking point, speaking in that rapid yet comprehensible, theatrical manner that's only possible for those in who excel in the media industry. ]
But, I haven't answered your question at all, now have I? Well, the problem is that I lost count! There were the ones that were in pieces after hitting my barrier, and there were the ones I tore to pieces...
[ He rocks back and forth in his chair as he explains, completely nonplussed by the mention of his defeat, ]
And of course, I'm the only sinner that's ever survived an encounter with Archangel at all.
[ Retreat or otherwise, he had done the impossible. He drops his feet down now, tired of that awkward position. ]
And best of all, I didn't need anyone to help me do any of it! In fact, the only reason anything happened at all was my efforts.
[ The opposite of Vox, so dependent on others. Everyone around Alastor needs on him, including the Princess of Hell. ]
no subject
That’s from not skipping leg day. .Stop pointing out things he’s worried about, you staticky asshole. He pursed his lips and blew a raspberry, following it up with a-- ]
Psshh! What? No!. I’m not worried about anything; my plan is working fine. My little bug is staying where he is because he’s useful. He’s my tool. …And a tool.
[Ha. Get it?
Did Alastor ever shut up?! It was a constant barrage of blah blah blah. And besides, now he was just BSing.]
Shields don’t count, everyone knows that. That’s like saying you built a wall so everyone who walks into it is your kill count. And encounters don’t count if you don’t win.
[Or draw, at least. Either way, Alastor hadn’t won, and Vox took this moment to selectively ignore that part where he talked about who the Radio Demon tore apart. Just…forget about that. That was bad press. But the dig couldn’t be wholly ignored, leaving him to glare for a second before looking bored. ]
You say that, but you’ve never proven that. You’re just trying to make yourself sound more important than you are.
Tell me…
[Long fingers folded in each other as he leaned forward, resting his head on his knuckles.]
…do you think she’s actually going to come after you? Save you? Do you think she needs you right now?
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There's a long moment of silence in response to the question. It hangs thick in the air as Alastor stares at Vox. His expression betrays no emotion. His smile doesn't waver.
He waits just long enough for it to seem like he's not going to answer at all before responding: ]
Let me ask you this in return: Do you think I would let someone save me?
[ He knows that the princess needs him, but Alastor doesn't need anyone. He never has. Besides - ]
A deal is a deal, Vox.
no subject
He sat in the silence, waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Like a sucker, he started to open his mouth before Alastor started to talk, the dramatic dick just waiting to make things painfully awkward.
But he wasn’t wrong. Alastor loved to tout about how he worked alone, didn’t need anyone, ha ha Vincent. Would he have let Charlie help?
Vox leaned back in his chair, putting his feet on the table and honestly, Al, it wasn’t that bad. Get some ankle strength.]
When does the princess listen to anyone? She does what she wants because she thinks she’s helping. [His hands clasped, swinging side to side in a mockery of sweetness. Gross.] She thinks she’s better than everyone else, that she knows best. So why isn’t she at least trying to save you, unless you don’t matter?
You're just expendable.
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Vox wasn't entirely wrong in his assessment. Charlie was a strong-willed young woman, and it could be quite difficult to control her. Still, at present she had far bigger issues than the radio demon being kidnapped, and most of all when not a single person at that hotel would go along with any schemes. ]
Because I'm the one person at that hotel that she has any respect for.
[ If that might not be the main reason, it wasn't a lie either. Charlie had listened to him more than she did others over time. Besides, there wasn't a single person at that hotel who wouldn't dismiss any concern as Alastor knowing what what he was doing. He punctuated the sentence with a sigh and a shake of the head before adding, ]
Oh... Come on, Vox, don't you worry now. No one's going to come steal me away from you.
[ His tone turned into something amused and even teasing, because he found this angle better than back and forth. Unlike Vox who was in constant need of external approval, Alastor knew his worth quite well. ]
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R-Respect? [Vox’s words stuttered with the laughter bubbling up and spilling free. Respect? Ha. Ha!] You think she doesn’t look down on you? That she doesn’t think she knows better than you? That she would redeem you in a heartbeat when we both know that’s impossible and not even something you’d want? Come on.
[She was easily moved, sure. Stupid, certainly. But she was prideful, had a superiority complex, and while Vox knew the spin was just that: a spin, those always had some foundational truth in there. That’s what made it work each and every time.
And amid that gloating and questions, Alastor interrupted it with … that. It wasn’t- he wasn’t worri- Fuck. The screen darkened with a flush across his flat cheeks, and he spun in his chair to try to hide it. No peeking.]
They can try; this isn’t a vacation, Alastor. This is being a prisoner. You’re annoying, but you’re mine.
[Not like that.]
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Though he is right about one thing. Alastor is someone who who would never want to be redeemed, and someone who she would want to redeem despite that.
But that smug look is finally wiped away by Vox suddenly spinning away. The darkening of his screen hadn't been missed, and it isn't quite what he'd been expecting. He cants his head, ears curving down to the one side, perturbed. It's not often that Vox acts in such an unpredictable way, but after a few seconds, he decides that the man being suitably embarrassed is all that matters and lifts his head back up. ]
So relax. I'm all yours. We aren't mimicking Beauty and the Beast or Rapunzel here.
[ Or some other fairy tale where Charlie can be the charming prince that saves the day (never mind that not applying to the former,) pick your poison. ]
We're in Hell, we're demons, and we're both far too old for those sorts of misadventures.
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Well, we all know who the Beast is in that scenario.
[Which probably wasn’t much of an insult to someone like Alastor. Vox pushed away from the desk, walked to the edge, and sat there, contemplating. Red eyes never moved away from the uncooperative-cooperative captive, confidence warring with the gut feeling that he was missing something. There was a play at work here. Something.
And then his ego chimed in and reminded him that he had fucking won, so those questions disappeared on the wind.]
You’re right. Time’s made us smarter than that. [His smile grew a bit wider, a bit toothier.] Well, some of us. Some of us are tied to a chair.
[Speaking of said chair, he made sure to kick it again. Shit, that never got old.]
Now, I’m going to shove you in a closet so I can get some work done, okay? [He rolled his eyes.] Ha! Don’t know why I’m asking when you don’t actually get a say in this.
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The kick was anticipated this time. He pushed his heels back until just the tips of his shoes touched the ground, then pulled them up and back a couple inches more, before planting them back down once the chair began to roll. The stop could hardly be called smooth, but he had at least managed to avoid knocking into something. ]
Oh, I know. It's because you're hoping that this will be the time that I start bargaining and begging.
[ Alastor leaned back a bit, and his own grin stretched out further. Neither threats nor insults meant much to the radio demon, or at least not when they were coming from present company. ]
Too bad. I'd take a closet over sitting across from you any day of the week.
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[Begging. Pleading. Actually acting like a fucking prisoner instead of a prima donna who owned the place. A little fear would be nice, a little hope Vox could squash under his designer heels and grind into these fine stone floors.
But nooooo. Still being a stubborn asshole, huh? He ground his teeth, ruling out the closet completely before trying to run through who he could stick him with. Val was violent (good) but could be manipulated (bad). Velvette was dangerous (good), but cocky (bad). He didn’t trust his assistant within a hundred yards of this asshole.
Fuck. He didn’t trust anyone with him, really. And he couldn't leave him alone like he wanted.
Dammit. He kicked the chair again but sulkily marched over to his chair and sat down in it. Satan, he hated this guy.]
You've got to be starving.
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He rolled further this time, skidding to a halt near the wall. He pushed it back just enough to have a comfortable distance between him and it.
The lateral threw him off. His ears twitched, one tilting down and to the side as he tried to discern the reason for it. He was, of course, but despite not having dealt with resource scarcity in nearly a century, Alastor tended to judge these things on the could be worse scale. ]
Yes, but you stop noticing after awhile.
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It was always only ‘ish’. Adoring the victory did cloud the fine points of the defeat.
He tapped his fingers against the desk, before picking up the handset on his desk phone.]
Bring in lunch. [Pause.] Yeah, off that menu.
[And then he hung up. His smile was petty and faded quickly as he started to pick through his email on his laptop.]
I can’t have you starving to death before my big ascension.
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[ The suggestion made him uneasy. Alastor had always been uneasy consuming things around other people. He would do so just enough to be polite at events, but never anything more. He was happy enough to fast during his time in the Vee tower.
He could trust that Vox wouldn't do anything to harm him, but he did wonder if this would prove to be one more way to mess with him. Pulling himself forward proved to be too awkward, so he spun toward the wall once more, pushing back on his heels until he felt the back of the chair hit against the desk. That done, he turned to face Vox once more. ]
Well now, I wouldn't die from a little starvation. It'd be far more boring than that. I'd just pass out at the most pivotal moment, and the events would be forever lost to time, and all I'd get was a dry recap upon my awakening.
[ It might have sounded like mockery, but it was only meant as a little joke between a pair of entertainers. They both knew the tropes. ]
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[The wheels of the chair echoed in such a high-ceiling room, forcing him to glance up for a second. It was so frustrating watching Alastor control even the chair, making it move where he wanted it, using it to hit his desk. Couldn’t Vox have one thing that went his way?
There was a snort and a glare and yes, yes, he got what was being laid out before him. That would be terrible ratings, a shitty trope that wasn’t favorable to anyone, let alone himself. He needed Alastor awake, needed his most (ugh) important audience member to witness his triumphs, his victories.
And that meant keeping this asshole in working order. At least, for awhile.]
It would be rather anticlimactic if you did, a letdown after how much you’ve built yourself up. If I wasn’t concerned about the optics, I might almost enjoy how pathetic it would be.
[The door to the office opened, a hesitant sound as his assistant brought in two plates under silver cloches. They were set down atop the desk with a quick reminder to Vox about his two-o’clock meeting, and then he vacated, clipboard clutched in his free hand.
Vox looked over at Alastor, before raising an eyebrow.] Well, what are we doing about your ability to eat? I don’t plan on feeding you.
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That was the question of the hour, now wasn't it? He could be so helpful as to give some suggestion, or at least point out the obvious, but there was no fun to be found in that. Besides, Vox would have an answer to this problem and do what he wanted to anyway.
Instead, he leaned to one side, head canted, his ears flopping down to one side. He squirmed just a tad, pulling at the restraints in a fruitless effort to move his hands. He was already looking appropriately pathetic, except it was all performative gestures.
He leans back in his chair, far enough for his feet to come off the ground, tapping the desk with the tip of his shoe. He shrugged. ]
I give up.
[ Very helpful. ]
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But the door closed behind him without incident and they were alone again. The change in body language didn’t go unnoticed, and Vox had his own pieces as well: the relaxation in his shoulders, the pinched edge of his lips, the way his fingers relaxed against the keyboard. But confidence still ran through him, something tangled in deep with his ego, and his grin widened. ]
Yeah, you’re good at doing that, aren’t you?
[Very helpful, indeed. He took off the cloches to reveal two very different meals: one with a rare steak and a potato puree, and the other was a…garden salad. Dry. No dressing.
Vox smiled and slid the salad over to Alastor, before pulling the steak towards himself. As he cut into it, the juices started to spread across the plate, and he made sure to make the most audible MmmmMMmmmMmm noises as he ate. Really quite good.]
Hmmm, quite a conundrum. Looks like you might have to just bend over and try to have a bite, huh?
[Like a deer in the wild.]
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He's known this man for seven decades, and there was precious little that he could do to surprise Alastor. There was even less that he could do to upset him. In fact, he snorted upon hearing the comment for how ridiculous the suggestion was. Just as Vox has no doubt heard every joke and insult about his TV head, Alastor received no shortage of comments about his deer aspects when he arrived in Hell. ]
I'm impressed that your assistant has lasted this long.
[ It was a casual comment, one with no deeper meaning behind it. The look from before had been akin to putting on his public face, and so that observation was little more than a way of refusing to engage with the suggestion.
Actually, no, scratch that, he would - ]
And don't talk with your mouth full. It's ill-mannered. Boorish, really.
[ Alastor will scold him whether or not he actually was, because making sounds was also impolite. ]
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Vox’s eyes narrowed by a degree or two as he tried to read him, before he took another bite of the steak. It wasn’t that he was protective over his staff – he wasn’t, why would he be? – but Ethan was useful and Alastor…
Well, he was Alastor.]
I know how to hire people and bring out their usefulness. We both get what we want.
[And that was what he had offered, once upon a time several decades ago. Of course, one of them had gotten what they wanted back then, to grind the other’s heart into dust with humiliation, but that was just something Vox was going to ignore at the moment. It could’ve been better. It would’ve been better if he hadn’t been such a raging assho-]
Mmmmm.
[Don’t mind him being petty and slightly childish; it felt good. The whole victory tour felt good, and so would these little swipes. Setting the knife and fork down, he leaned back in his chair.]
If you ask nicely, I might untie one of your hands so you can eat.
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He had the decency to treat it as a serious issue, but in truth, Alastor was that sort of person who might forget to eat for days if not for the fact that he found it to be one of life's great pleasures. Food was, up until a certain point, more of a want than a need. That was all that much more true in Hell, where there was no worry of dying from it. ]
You've already killed any appetite I had, but feel free to make the offer again in two or three months.
[ That's about the maximum amount of time a normal human could go without. ]
No, that's not nearly long enough... [ The words were said in a mumble. He flicked his eyes up and canted his head for a moment before letting out a huff, ] Oh, forget it. You can just wait until you have something worth asking nicely for.
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It would be worth it when the despair, the true defeat finally kicked in, when Vox found the pieces that broke this outdated hack.
Vox took another bite, but the enjoyment, the flavor had gone out of it, letting it taste like nothing but ash in his mouth. When he was ruling over all of them in Heaven and Hell, then he’d show him. He would finally prove without a doubt that he didn’t need anyone, least of all him.
Then he would really be free.]
If you’re looking for better mass appeal by thinking you’re too good for me and my gifts, you’re going about this all wrong. See, I’m offering you a last meal out of the kindness of my heart, but if you don’t want it…
[He shrugged a little.]
Be a baby about it. I don’t care. You can’t bring me down when I’m winning this fucking hard.
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This was all just a temporary affair anyway. Alastor had his own plans. ]
You might have offered me a cigarette instead. I would prefer that over a meal... So, do be a dear and get me a pack of Marlboro the next time you go out. Black if they have it, but red will do if not.
[ The lack of smokes was the most bothersome part of this entire affair, albeit even that was little more than a minor inconvenience. That should be enough to make him feel important though now, right? Alastor was even giving him the chance to deny him something. No attempts at bringing him down whatsoever. ]
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Vox couldn’t help the offended blink as he was – was given an errand? As Alastor gave him a chore?! His claws curled tighter around the fork before he slammed the sharpened tines into the desk, making the metal sway lightly as it stuck upwards.]
You must be losing your memory with your old age. I am not your assistant.
[Vox pushed out of his chair and slowly, deliberately stalked over to Alastor’s, pulling it away from his desk. Anger wouldn’t release him this time; he had been pushed far beyond his shortened limits. Hands slammed onto the back of the seat so he could lean close, nose to…well, flat television face. Red eyes darkened, narrowed with a rage that covered decades of lingering hurt that never went away, just festered like the wound it was.]
At the end of this, I will be your executioner and your god. [He bared his teeth.] And gods don’t go for cigarette runs.
[He stood up straight, let go of the chair long enough to go stand behind it, and purposefully moved it to the nearest closet. No more threats, just a promise and fulfillment in time out.]
You're boring me. [Which was an utter lie.] And I have work to do.
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Alastor is such a brat.
Being a brat truly is his thing. Vox wants to be a brat tamer so bad too.
HE DOES! He'll fail at it, but he wants to be!
Listen... I believe him (sort of.) He's just starting with Super Hell Nightmare Mode here.
He's trying Expert Mode and can't even make it through the tutorial with him.
He truly is.... On the plus side him failing is why alastor likes him
At least he has his priorities in order.
This has "sleeping on the couch tonight" energy.
He's pouty about it, but also....he knows he Fucked Up.
He did, but it's okay...... His wife will forgive him.
Buuuuut make him suffer a little first.
Just a little bit, because he deserves it... Those ears are staying pinned back.
It's fiiiiine. He'll pout where he can't be seen.
But will he go into the arms of his second wife...
The nights are cold and the couch is lumpy. Jealous?
He's happy with his nice, warm chair. Too bad a wheel broke off. Vox could've sat on his lap.
He still could if the balance is right. Hard to balance with this weird head though...
True. Move him to an armchair, then they can both sit comfortably, without the random spinning!
Sounds like a trap!
it's like a cat exposing their belly, it's worth the risk of a little love mauling
Let's be real: Vox is a little bit of a masochist.
Pain n' Pleasure but mostly pain... Our sadomasochists. Al probably grooms you after mauling though.
Awww, see? He does care.
He does, you have a kitty and a puppy right here.
LOL I can't help but think of the fizzie Kitty.
STOP that's it... It's him, sort of. I've raised feral kittens so that's my characterization basis.
OH I can DEFINITELY see that.
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You saw nothing of my wrong account. :P
Shhhh... There was no wrong account.
♥
this tag is so cursed, i'm sorry
It's peeeeerfection! *chef's kiss*
They are truly just so sick in the head.
Completely. I love them.
Same. They're freaks, but they're our freaks.
*smooshes them together*
NOW KISS...
♥♥♥♥
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Hey, Al, look. You broke him.
But can I break him harder?
The answer is always "yes".
oh ariana we're really in it now
*leans against the poster*
does this give him more or less motivation to take over heaven
Too early to tell. Depends on how bad he fucks it up LOL
He has a chance, but if he fumbles it, he has to take over heaven to unlock the R18+ scene
Look, he fumbles SO MUCH.
He does, but I get it on this one... If I had this man in front of me, I would fumble too.
Guilty as charged.
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This man is sobbing on the inside.
Ohh, Vox, honey... Complicated and sad and so very stupid.
It's a wonder that Al puts up with him.
Codependency is a Hell of a drug.
These two fools. Also, sorry about Vox's bitchy temper tantrum.
It's fine, is it really Radiostatic if somebody isn't making an ass of themselves?
You're definitely not wrong!
lbr Alastor is being pissy and petty too, just in the opposite way.
Giving him the silent treatment is weirdly effective.
He needs his wife's attention to live... :( cries we can probably wrap here tho
Just one last one, first!
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