Luckily for Cal, Vox's exact brand of unsympathetic is exactly what he needs right now, or at least what he wants. This is significantly less mortifying than actually having to explain why he's upset, or otherwise having someone attempt to comfort him.
And so, when Vox, aghast and irritated, accuses him of living under a rock, all he can do is throw his head back and laugh.
Cal's ragged fit of giggles sounds near-manic, his tears still plain in the sound. Vox's joke wasn't even that funny, wasn't even really a joke, but, fuck, if it isn't taking Cal's mind off of things.
"Close enough," he agrees good-naturedly, wiping the remaining moisture from the corners of his eyes. "I don't watch, like, any hol- TV. I don't watch any TV." He sniffs, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head as if to clear it, while Vox explains.
"Huh," he says. Yeah, that definitely doesn't sound like the kind of holoshow Cal would like, even if he was in its target audience. Point taken.
Another sniff. "To be fair to the baby show about cop dogs," he adds, "I doubt they meant it for grown-ass men anyway. Of course it sucks. They only have to make it interesting enough for kids." Not that he'd really know for sure, but it sounds about right at least.
Vox's follow-up question makes Cal pause, reclining back slightly in his seat. He- doesn't want to talk about this with Vox, if he's honest, and he figures the demon isn't actually interested in hearing all the details.
(Not that Cal can blame him, to be honest--'sometimes it just hits me that I'm one of the only survivors of a genocide and I'll never get to have the community that was taken from me or the culture I lost ever again, no big deal' is a fucking conversation-killer.)
"Just having a shitty day," he decides on after thinking about it a little too long. Almost definitely not what the demon's looking for, but whatever. "Don't normally cry over it when that happens, but, eh." He shrugs, a sort of what-can-you-do gesture, and hopes they can just leave it at that.
