[First impression?] @broadcasting-screams-since-33
... Vincent's plan was simple. He would find the Radio Demon. Put a face to the name and horrible screams on broadcasts. Make an impeccable first impression. Get into his favor. Use him for climbing to the rank of an Overlord. Figure out all the workings of Hell, and then... well, then he'd see.
Vincent raises a glass to himself. He already drank plenty this night, but he figures he deserves it. At last, after first nightmarish months in Hell, he has an objective.
"Excuse me, monsieur," a cheerful voice says to him from behind. "You're in my seat."
"Well, I didn't see a name carved on it, good sir," Vincent retorts recklessly, before feeling that the entire room freezes with uneasy silence.
Only then he turns towards the person who spoke to him - and is immediately stricken as much as the rest of the room.
First, there is the smile, sharp and wide.
Then there are features that could both belong to a pretty woman or a handsome man; the type of beauty that would not be approved by many TV channel owners, but definitely fitting for the theatre.
Then there is red. Like, a lot of it. Brighter, darker, all tones there are.
No wonder everyone else fell silent. That guy definitely knows how to carry himself.
"And yet," the red guy says silkily, smile growing wider, and Vox notices that the death left a deer imprint on him (was he a hunter? one wouldn't say so from his silhouette), "You're in my seat."
Barkeep coughs into his palm, and his cough sounds awfully similar to "rest in peace".
Vox smiles at the red guy back, feeling too good about himself to really fight.
"Tell you what. It's not like I developed an immediate attachment to this chair, but also it's a public place, and it's kind of a principle!" he raises his cyan claw right in the air. "I'll give you the chair and even WILL carve your name on it, if the barkeep allows it... as long as you win against me in a dance off!"
The stranger watches him with his wine-colored eyes.
Then the smile changes again. Turns from tension to amusement.
"Well, I'd never say no to a dance off".
...
"For the record," Vincent grumbles, lowering himself on one knee to carve the letters on the back of the seat, "That wink was cheating."
"Not at all," the red guy laughs light-heartedly, hovering behind his back. "Don't slack off, Vincent."
"Definitely was," the TV sinner insists. "If you did not wink, I would not fall. It was distracting."
"Don't see how my wink and your pitiful inability to stand straight is connected, pal!" the red guy retorts in a sing-song voice. "Also, you're spelling my name wrong. It's A-l-a-s-t-o-r, not A-l-e-i-s-t-e-r."
"Jesus fucking..." Vincent scrapes the beginning of the name, starting anew. "Aren't you taking after Crowley?"
"Ah!" the red guy's eyes spark up with interest. "A fellow witch?"
"Nah," this time Vincent gets his name right and gets up, admiring his handiwork. "I'm just very smart. And knowledgeable. But my heart belongs to the technology progress!"
"Progress, shmogress," Alastor rolls his eyes.
Vincent points his finger at the Sinner.
"Don't you dare. I'm surprised anyone even expresses disdain for technology with Radio Demon being on top of the food chain. Do you have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever?"
Alastor freezes for a moment. Then his smile unexpectedly turns particularly wicked.
"Oh. And, pray tell, why would Radio Demon be against the ridicule of the technology?"
"Because he is basically the technology demon? Duh!" Vincent rolls his eyes.
"Maybe he thinks that technology should have stopped at the invention of the radio," Alastor purrs.
"Well, that would be totally irrational," Vincent scoffs, rolling his eyes again.
"Well, that's for Radio Demon to know, isn't it, sweetheart?" Alastor's voice becomes even more silky. "I mean. For me to know."
Vincent stares at him for a few moments, and then bursts out laughing.
"You... you are the Radio Demon? AHAHAH! Oh yeah. Right. Real funny. You guys are fearless down here. Don't you think he can be against people impersonating him?"
Alastor's eyes turn into a dark dials.
"And why would you say that I'm impersonating him?"
"Well, it's obvious," Vincent still smiles. "The guy is terrifying, judging by the intel I've gathered! And you're... fine! All sorts of attractive! That is opposite to ter..."
He doesn't finish his sentence, as Alastor, with his eyes back to red (and amused), twirls a cane that appeared out of thin air, in his hands.
It's not just a cane.
It's a mic.
"Oh," Vincent says, his voice going quieter with the growing horror. "Oh. Oh no. Oh shit. Oh fuck. You... You are the Radio Demon, aren't you?"
Radio Demon smirks at him.
"Talk about fearless with no sense of self-preservation, mmm?"
"I am so sorry," Vincent has never apologized more sincerely in his entire life. Fear is one thing, but embarrassment? He analyzed his behavior throughout the evening and screamed internally at his own stupidity.
"I guess I'm just not terrifying enough," Alastor is definitely enjoying himself. "Too fine, was that what you said?"
"No!" this is probably the worst day of Vincent's entire afterlife, and that's including waking up in a pit with a TV for a head.
"Ah, so you don't consider me fine," Alastor tutts with mock disappointment.
"No, I do! I mean, respectfully... I mean..." Vincent feels his monitor overheat. "Oh my god. This is a fucking nightmare. Can we just pretend this never happened? Can I just introduce myself anew, and you'll just ignore the fact of how massively clueless and stupid I was this entire night?"
Radio demon laughs.
"Oh, no, Vincent, dear. I think I'm never gonna let you live this down."
