Heh, how could I not? They were the only ones you used to smoke, anything else was “inferior”. [He was admitting too much, he knew it; it was the details that he needed to bury, the ones where he knew he needed to Not Say Anything. It showed how much he still acknowledged, how he had cared. Shut your mouth, Vox. Shut up.]
I used to keep a box on me in case you ran out. They were a bitch to find, you know; there were only two stores that kept them and they knew they were the only ones so they marked them up. I used to short out their cameras and steal them.
[Shut up.
But it was different being in his room instead of an impartial third space, an office, an angelic great hall. The sharpened edges of Vox the CEO, now Vox the God, were smoothed by degrees, a man who had everything and still wanted. Alastor was here and Alastor always made him stupid, though. His eyes flickered down to the box before he held up two fingers, electricity bouncing between them in the event that the other demon wanted to light a cigarette.]
What did you do with your newfound freedom?
[A freedom that wasn’t really freedom, and they both knew it.]
[ That was how it was for him. It was unfortunate, too, because it had at one time been a common name and perfectly moderately priced brand. It was also one that hadn't stood the passage of time, but few ever did. But the mention of stealing his desired brand earned a chuckle, because he hadn't missed the fact that Vox always kept his favored type on him, and here and there he would bum a cigarette off the other.
He tore the seal of the pack before popping it open and removing one. He used Vox as his makeshift lighter next, just as he had done a hundred times before. He carried a lighter on him, but it was one of those small shows of courtesy and affection between the two of them.
He took a drag from his cigarette and felt instant relief. The still-open carton was held up next, tilted in Vox's direction so he could take one if desired. ]
I took my first look at my gilded cage. I must say, Heaven is far too bright for my liking. There's too much gold, too. It's tacky.
You should see their giant meeting room; sunglasses are required if you don’t want it burned into your retina. Velvette has been complaining about all the gauche bullshit since we took over. She has “big plans”; I haven’t asked her what but I trust her, as long as she remains within budget for the fiscal year.
[That was a small admission, trusting a person, something he didn’t admit very easily about anyone. But her vision had never led them astray; it was her arrogance that was dangerous. That wasn’t for this discussion, though; the last thing he wanted was for Alastor to go on complaining about how Vox couldn’t do anything on his own.
His fingers grabbed the offered cigarette, leaned forward, and touched the end to Alastor’s. Breathing it in, the embers flared to red life, before he pulled back and blew out the smoke. This was the calmest they had ever been with each other in decades, and it felt just as familiar as it did confusing. The reminder that he couldn’t trust him was scratching at the back of his brain, at the ports, and the electrical beating of his heart.
There were no friends in Hell, right?]
At least we got the cameras up.
[That had been the first order of business, to no one’s surprise. He took another drag from the cigarette, eyes still on Alastor. How long until he fucked it up and broke their fragile, momentary truce? Ten minutes? Twenty?]
If you can behave for a week, I’ll let you go Exorcist hunting. [See? It’s not reaaaaally a cage.] Maybe we can go together.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
I used to keep a box on me in case you ran out. They were a bitch to find, you know; there were only two stores that kept them and they knew they were the only ones so they marked them up. I used to short out their cameras and steal them.
[Shut up.
But it was different being in his room instead of an impartial third space, an office, an angelic great hall. The sharpened edges of Vox the CEO, now Vox the God, were smoothed by degrees, a man who had everything and still wanted. Alastor was here and Alastor always made him stupid, though. His eyes flickered down to the box before he held up two fingers, electricity bouncing between them in the event that the other demon wanted to light a cigarette.]
What did you do with your newfound freedom?
[A freedom that wasn’t really freedom, and they both knew it.]
no subject
He tore the seal of the pack before popping it open and removing one. He used Vox as his makeshift lighter next, just as he had done a hundred times before. He carried a lighter on him, but it was one of those small shows of courtesy and affection between the two of them.
He took a drag from his cigarette and felt instant relief. The still-open carton was held up next, tilted in Vox's direction so he could take one if desired. ]
I took my first look at my gilded cage. I must say, Heaven is far too bright for my liking. There's too much gold, too. It's tacky.
no subject
[That was a small admission, trusting a person, something he didn’t admit very easily about anyone. But her vision had never led them astray; it was her arrogance that was dangerous. That wasn’t for this discussion, though; the last thing he wanted was for Alastor to go on complaining about how Vox couldn’t do anything on his own.
His fingers grabbed the offered cigarette, leaned forward, and touched the end to Alastor’s. Breathing it in, the embers flared to red life, before he pulled back and blew out the smoke. This was the calmest they had ever been with each other in decades, and it felt just as familiar as it did confusing. The reminder that he couldn’t trust him was scratching at the back of his brain, at the ports, and the electrical beating of his heart.
There were no friends in Hell, right?]
At least we got the cameras up.
[That had been the first order of business, to no one’s surprise. He took another drag from the cigarette, eyes still on Alastor. How long until he fucked it up and broke their fragile, momentary truce? Ten minutes? Twenty?]
If you can behave for a week, I’ll let you go Exorcist hunting. [See? It’s not reaaaaally a cage.] Maybe we can go together.
[Not like a date!
Okay, maybe a little like a date.]