The doors of the Hazbin Hotel open with a burst of static, the overhead lights flickering like they were protesting his arrival. Every screen in the lobby sparked to life for half a second — all showing his smirking face — before flickering back to normal.
And there he stood. Vox. Crisp suit, neon glow radiating from the sharp edges of his form, and that self-satisfied grin that could curdle milk. He sauntered toward the front desk like he owned the place — or was planning to soon.
“Afternoon, sunshine,” he drawled, resting one elbow on the counter, grin widening as his static-filled gaze landed on Vaggie. “Gotta say, this is quite the establishment Charlie’s got here. Real homey. Little rough around the edges, though. Kinda like you.”
“I’ll be checking in. Business, pleasure—eh, bit of both. You can decide which one when the ratings go up.”
Vaggie’s glare didn’t waver, but that only seemed to amuse him more. He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a lower, teasing buzz. “Relax, sweetheart. I’m not here to cause trouble… yet.
e straightened up, smoothing the lapel of his jacket as the lights overhead flickered again. “Oh, and tell your little princess I’m around. Wouldn’t want her to miss the fun.”
It was gonna be one of those fucking days huh. She felt him before she could see him, sensing his dramatic entrance like an oncoming storm of chaos. And right on cue, with all the theatrics of a high school theatre kid, Vox entered stage right, blasting away whatever normalcy she had been praying for today in the blink of an eye. Oh fun.
Her face was already set in a scowl. One that never truly moved. And yet now with this big time asshole sauntering her face, SOMEHOW her scowl only deepened and tilted farther down the sharp corners of her face. The angel's hackles rose the close he came, feeling static dancing around her just by being in his presence. Her hair stood on in visibly as he leaned closer.
If it was from his passive charge or her raw disdain of him, nobody would ever know. Could be both at this point.
Where the fuck was Alastor when she needed him most...wasn't this his fuckin' weird ass ex? Why was he suddenly her problem? Ugh. Her glare could kill lesser Sinners and if she had it her way, an angelic blade would have already been hilt deep in his stupid ass face. But she would have to play nice. After all Charlie's reputation was on the line and she didn't exactly think suplexing the Media Demon in front of an entire lobby was gonna help with that. Didn't mean she didn't want too...
Her good eye twitched with every nickname he gave her. "It's Vaggie, asshole." The young angel muttered in a deadpan. Her voice was sharp and as lethal as any swing from her blade. If he was gonna play this stupid game then he'd have to deal with her at her most dangerous. She'd lean forwards herself, making sure he could hear the cold bite in her tone.
"And if you're going to be staying here in our home. You're gonna play by our fucking rules." Without taking away eye contact, she'd rip a key off the key rings behind her and slam it down in front of him, sliding it to him. "No bullshit. No harming the guest and no fucking around with our routine. You're staying. You're a resident. Nothing else. Got that, Boxhead?" Vaggie growled. Huffing, she'd lean away and point to the sign in book.