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@videokilled
If you have ever sent a nasty message to any Valentino writer/mun regarding character shaming, hate, or ‘cancelling’ them: I don’t want you here.
Hazbin is a tv show. With real people role-play writers. You’re not protecting anyone by being a dick. You cause more damage than a fictional villian. Grow up.
Vox was enjoying the banter, even giving a small appreciative chuckle when the deer predictably reacted to being called French. His eyes very slowly drifted shut again before he realized it. Just listening to the other yap. Enjoying that his gills were once again smothered into the fur to enjoy its warm musk. This was comfortable… deeply…
He was Preparing his next bait, ready to harp more on about Alastor speaking French, when suddenly the deer pivoted. And was suddenly back to telling Vox to order more food. Right after offering to get some. His mouth wrinkled and sank to the bottom of his screen. The ordering of food gradually moving toward being an unpleasant topic. Demanded often and never appreciated or finished or preserved. The radio had offered to fetch food himself not more than a minute ago. And now he was ordering ingredients? Valentino would make him French toast.
Then he felt Alastor move away before Vox had anticipated it. He had still been enjoying the proximity. Discretely. And losing it in this context made him groan and mutter.
“..I’m not delivering anything else here. It was suspicious as it was.” He rolled over to start to get up, slow going. And could feel his mood sinking back to sour rapidly. More to do with his broken morning routine and increasing need. So then the thoughts started..
Had he just offered himself up to be used again? Again?? “I need a phone..” he muttered out loud, mostly to himself. Maybe the Vees missed him… maybe they would apologize..Vox smacked the side of his head again to reset his thoughts.
“I need a phone..” he repeated quietly
"I thought that's what you were implying," Alastor responded, glancing back at Vox with a slight huff. Was that not why he brought up cooking? To try and keep Alastor there without venturing out? Maybe he'd misunderstood.
It was never easy to try and talk to Vox when he was half asleep.
With another small sigh, Alastor pushed himself upwards to his feet to find the phone that had been abandoned, retrieving it before bringing it back to the other.
"You may as well keep the thing. I hardly use it for anything." What point would there be now if Vox could simply recall him at any time? It was not as though the television were going to be texting him again as though nothing had happened. Satisfied as Alastor was with the current arrangement, he could not pretend that it solved everything.
"Don't order anything. I will go out like I intended to," he instructed, giving another stretch. "I need air, anyway." Besides, that would keep the other from having to invest any more money. Any time Vox ordered food, it was a bit of an unnecessary expenditure, if Alastor could simply venture out to retrieve something at no cost, save for a momentary flash of intimidation or charm. Whichever worked best.
The radio demon did not wait for the other's input as he was beginning to pull his clothes back on. Still lacking his coat, he would have to make do with his undershirt, for now. He could still make it look decent on its own, rolling the sleeves up to the elbow and taking a moment to use what energy he'd managed to cobble together from the meal the night before to straighten his hair to its more usual appearance. In his hand, his staff returned.
Certain that he still looked tired, Alastor spared the other a momentary lingering glance.
"Go back to sleep. I will wake you when something is ready."
There were some doubts that Vox would go back to sleep, given how he was certain the other was beginning to grow irritated with either the absence of drugs, a smoke, or something else. So it was better, then, that Alastor soon dipped out of the room - pausing only to sweep their mess from the night before into the garbage - before slipping out of the apartment altogether.
It would take some time before he was back, not bothering to announce himself as he took time to ease his own heavily burdened emotions by fixating on preparing food instead.
On the coffee table, he'd set more cigarettes down. More liquor. With the presumption that Vox could likely get his own drugs if he needed them, that was all the radio demon had collected. Much as he wanted to maintain some semblance of peace for at least a little longer, he refuted the title of errand boy.
This was for his own benefit.
Vox would likely be made aware of Alastor's return by the sounds and smells in the kitchen more than anything else.
Vox had watched it all unfold. His own emotions steeping. Brewing slowly. He was trying to ignore them. Leave them unnamed.. but they were getting more and more unruly.
And something in his chest pinched when Alastor gave him that look. That huff of exasperation and consent instead of the sass and back talk that Vox was still waiting for. Couldn’t help himself from poking for.
The other looked so rattled. He couldn’t stand it. Didn’t Alastor know that he was stronger than this?? Alastor was better than this. Then a spook. He was untouchable. Infamous in days, not years like it had taken Vox.
Vox wasn’t admitting the other was better.. but why wasn’t he acting like it.
He kept quiet just brooding as he listened to the other fuss around and then eventually left the apartment.
While the other was gone, Vox scrounged up some stale scraps of some baggies and tossed the contents right down his throat. Whatever it was he wanted it.
Then he started pacing back and forth while waiting for the other to reappear.
When Alastor did, Vox was slumped way down on the couch, manspreading like the pros and drinking an espresso from a little ceramic cup that looked far too dainty in his claws. But he held it with practiced ease.
As he watched the red deer set down some spoils and then back to business- walk in and try to slide right by to the kitchen, Vox sighed quietly.
“Alastor.. come here please..” his voice was even and calm. The please was not a frequent visitor.. and it didn’t seem like Vox noticed he’d said it.
Vox’s line of a mouth wrinkled just a touch as if he actually cared about his shoes.
“Pbth.”
Definitely the shoes were the disappointment. His eyes moved from the ears to Alastor’s mouth and moved his mouth around his face a bit.
Then closed his eyes again to be bitter in silence and in peace. The channel they shared was silent now, and Vox could never seem to find it if Alastor wasn’t already using it. Like the trapdoor disappeared behind him.
He spent a few moments proverbially poking around his thoughts to see if he could find it but nothing that seemed familiar. Alastor’s was always stronger when it was on, it was like fighting back the current of a hose to travel into the hose. Impossible.
Maybe if he just thought real hard about it. His face scrunched up slightly as he focused on his thoughts. Just willing Alastor to harbor the desire to initiate making out. Maybe sucking dick…
Then he was distracted and peaked his eyes open again,
“You should cook something. You were so keen to yesterday. Make some eldritch French toast or something. You’re French..” he smirked, closing his eyes yet again.
Vox knew he wasn’t literally French. But he spoke it. And that was close enough.
His hands moved up to itch at his chest. It had scabbed over in a lot of places and while it didn’t look as gorey, it looked no prettier. One big sprawling wound with stitches.
At least Alastor’s wound had been localized and a clean cut. Vox’s was varying degrees of shredded surface level damage on top of the uneven stitches. It would be a very noticeable scar- likely until he was reconstituted. It was much more obvious with the shape and placement of the epicenters.. that there had been three blasts. It was a miracle in itself that he had lived. Two to the chest and one to the face.
The assassin likely thought he had succeeded.
He had almost not noticed Vox’s strange contorting of his face as the television tried to narrow his thoughts in an effort to communicate nonverbally. He’d been distracted in his own right, giving a few more stretches to try and reduce the soreness of his own limbs that still ached with exhaustion and a desire to continue to rest.
But with no real hurry to return back to the hotel - everyone likely still convinced that he was sick - he was not concerned about not being able to convalesce more once they were fed and he was clean.
Eventually, Alastor did seem to spy Vox’s strange facial movements, and he raised a brow in both confusion and some surface-level concern. Was his screen still trying to establish a proper connection to his brain? It was anyone’s guess. But Vox did not seem to be successful in managing to communicate through whatever channel remained between them. Not while Alastor was unaware of it, anyway.
“If I recall correctly, you stopped me from cooking yesterday,” he said dryly. “And we’ve not exactly stocked up on groceries, save for whatever is stale and is still on the coffee table.” Probably bad by now. Or, at least, not at all appetizing. He’d not been in a mood to clean up at all.
“You don’t want me manifesting food. It won’t taste like what you expect.” And would likely not be good to eat, regardless. While he could get creative with liquor, Alastor had not quite dared to delve into the act of conjuring actual meals. It would be redundant for him. Energy out just to put energy back in. And it would satisfy nothing.
“And I am not French. I’ve never been French.” A roll of his eyes followed the proclamation before he was sufficiently distracted by the other’s wounds, glancing downwards at where they scored over his flesh. He did not wince at them this time. But absently, he found it a bit interesting.
They were similar now in that way too. His own new wound intermingling with the one that had been left by Adam all those months ago.
It was any wonder that either of them were alive, really.
“Order ingredients and then you will have your toast. But if you are doing that, then I am bathing first.”
Another stretch saw Alastor lightly pulling himself away from the other, though he was in not much of a hurry. His movements still felt sluggish- and he paused as he sat there on the edge of the bed, exhaling out a sound that was tinged with obvious exhaustion.
“…And then I might just end up sleeping more,” he muttered honestly.
Vox was enjoying the banter, even giving a small appreciative chuckle when the deer predictably reacted to being called French. His eyes very slowly drifted shut again before he realized it. Just listening to the other yap. Enjoying that his gills were once again smothered into the fur to enjoy its warm musk. This was comfortable… deeply…
He was Preparing his next bait, ready to harp more on about Alastor speaking French, when suddenly the deer pivoted. And was suddenly back to telling Vox to order more food. Right after offering to get some. His mouth wrinkled and sank to the bottom of his screen. The ordering of food gradually moving toward being an unpleasant topic. Demanded often and never appreciated or finished or preserved. The radio had offered to fetch food himself not more than a minute ago. And now he was ordering ingredients? Valentino would make him French toast.
Then he felt Alastor move away before Vox had anticipated it. He had still been enjoying the proximity. Discretely. And losing it in this context made him groan and mutter.
“..I’m not delivering anything else here. It was suspicious as it was.” He rolled over to start to get up, slow going. And could feel his mood sinking back to sour rapidly. More to do with his broken morning routine and increasing need. So then the thoughts started..
Had he just offered himself up to be used again? Again?? “I need a phone..” he muttered out loud, mostly to himself. Maybe the Vees missed him… maybe they would apologize..Vox smacked the side of his head again to reset his thoughts.
“I need a phone..” he repeated quietly
I love my pookie so much they’re so funny and considerate and vibey and such lovely and perfect company and I’m so grateful I get to love them cuz I love loving them sigh
Vox stared, and a near visible loading circle would show in his expression for several more moments. Then Alastor’s question and the context finally seemed to click and his eyes slowly slid shut again with a soft little ‘mm’.
“You can’t leave… unaccompanied.. and little miss cannibal queen has no jurisdiction on me.. so if I’m not going… you’re not leaving..”
He explained almost uncharacteristically quietly with little spaces now and then. And his hands moved about in the air over top him as he explained the safety net he had thought up.
“..and if she tries to find a loop hole… I can just… recall you.. at my whim…”
It was almost endearing.. but he had dodged answering why.. and then the shit eating grin returned.
“To shine my shoes or suck my dick…” he giggled lightheartedly to himself, then his mouth opened in another very wide yawn.
Euch his head was going to start splitting open with this headache if he didn’t get some alcohol soon.. he hadn’t drank in.. nearly two days..
His delight at his own humor wrinkled on his face at the first pangs of migraine. The blurry vision in a vague ‘C’ shape in his vision was foreboding.
Very carefully opening his eyes again he found Alastor’s face, and was immediately struck with the urge to kiss the other again- the curls and waves framed the ears so nicely. And they pivoted forward and back and swiveled like little sentient radio antenna.
He was staring a bit too long at the ears before looking away when his stomach gave a very angry growl. He would need to find food to eat again.. maybe some of the food from yesterday was still good.. but he wished he had something sweet. He could often times coerce Valentino into cooking something. Maybe he could get the same from Alastor…
“Hungry..?”
Exhibiting more patience than he might have at any other moment, Alastor waited for something to come to fruition as a result of Vox's thoughts. On another occasion, he might have grown frustrated and simply dropped the subject, but given all that had happened... he did not feel up to being that much a brat so soon after they had seemingly come to some sort of... understanding.
It was not quite a straight forward answer once he did hear what Vox had to say. No, there was no explanation as to why so much as a how. But, Alastor thought, maybe that was good enough, blinking down at the other in something akin to surprise for the confirmation that the deal had been purposefully crafted that way.
To keep them together.
He took in a breath and then released it steadily, opening his mouth to say something - Only to be met with Vox's jest, the wind effectively taken from Alastor's sails as he released a small sigh instead.
But he could not be angry. Not when, instead, all he could really feel in the moment was relief. That which Vox had been looking for the night before - and in spite of himself, the radio demon's smile remained easy-going and soothed. Much more than it had been for a long while now, those long ears that had captured Vox's attention so readily settling back in a relaxed state atop his head.
"Unfortunately for you, your provision did not involve me being a butler. So sorry. Your shoes shall remain scuffed."
He was not very sorry, giving a small exhale of a chuckle.
"Yes. I am hungry. As are you, from what I hear." Because he had not missed that rumble of a growl. And he knew Vox well enough to understand that there were likely other things the television must be craving by now. Painkillers did not quite have the same oomf as whatever other addictions he harbored. And even then, they hadn't quite gotten to the painkillers before they had fallen asleep.
"I can find something nearby. If you are not so stringent as to keep me from doing so. But after that, I need a bath."
He'd not had one in at least a day or so. And while he could get away with it without seemingly wildly unkempt, Alastor's desire to be clean was always a pervasive one.
Vox’s line of a mouth wrinkled just a touch as if he actually cared about his shoes.
“Pbth.”
Definitely the shoes were the disappointment. His eyes moved from the ears to Alastor’s mouth and moved his mouth around his face a bit.
Then closed his eyes again to be bitter in silence and in peace. The channel they shared was silent now, and Vox could never seem to find it if Alastor wasn’t already using it. Like the trapdoor disappeared behind him.
He spent a few moments proverbially poking around his thoughts to see if he could find it but nothing that seemed familiar. Alastor’s was always stronger when it was on, it was like fighting back the current of a hose to travel into the hose. Impossible.
Maybe if he just thought real hard about it. His face scrunched up slightly as he focused on his thoughts. Just willing Alastor to harbor the desire to initiate making out. Maybe sucking dick…
Then he was distracted and peaked his eyes open again,
“You should cook something. You were so keen to yesterday. Make some eldritch French toast or something. You’re French..” he smirked, closing his eyes yet again.
Vox knew he wasn’t literally French. But he spoke it. And that was close enough.
His hands moved up to itch at his chest. It had scabbed over in a lot of places and while it didn’t look as gorey, it looked no prettier. One big sprawling wound with stitches.
At least Alastor’s wound had been localized and a clean cut. Vox’s was varying degrees of shredded surface level damage on top of the uneven stitches. It would be a very noticeable scar- likely until he was reconstituted. It was much more obvious with the shape and placement of the epicenters.. that there had been three blasts. It was a miracle in itself that he had lived. Two to the chest and one to the face.
The assassin likely thought he had succeeded.
Vox stared sleepily, almost dozing off again with his eyes open.
He felt Alastor shift, then move more abruptly. His own awareness dragging back to himself and looking over toward the deer without moving.
Those ears were moving around like crazy. Did he hear something..?
Now Alastor was staring at him. Was he missing something? Vox took a much deeper inhale from his vents and did his best to rouse himself more so he could focus. He was so comfortable though..
And then the question- but said like a clarifying question.. go with him? To heaven? Because that was their deal. Was the deer going senile?
Vox squinted at Alastor confused and mostly asleep.
“..What?”
His voice was also hoarse and low with residual sleep. But Vox was distracted from investigating more. Staring at the other. The bedhead looked so… appealing… on the other with the curls and waves all over. Not magically straightened.
Vox craved kissing him. But he resisted. He said it was his ego. Unwilling to cave to the forbidden fruit so easily without some sort of apology. (For what even he was unsure.) He wouldn’t be the one crawling back. That he was certain.
The antenna leaned a bit off kilter as he fought with himself internally.
No, he'd expected as much. Questioning Vox so quickly after his waking was not going to yield any particularly helpful results. And even if he were fully conscious, he did not think the other would provide him with an answer that helped him to fully comprehend exactly why he'd done what he'd done. So he took a moment before he responded for clarification, breathing out a little as he tried to not seem so... high strung about it.
It was done, regardless. But he still did not get what was in it for Vox. If Alastor were forced away, then Vox would be required to drop what he had, if it meant that he were forced to accompany the radio demon. Nothing had said that the deal would not compel them in whatever way it could to ensure that the specifics would be upheld.
"The provisions you gave," he said after a few long seconds.
"You said that I would not leave the pride ring unless you were with me."
His brow furrowed, slightly, unable to truly frown as he wanted to. But regardless, his gaze was questioning - still baffled by this realization and not knowing exactly how he should feel about it. Especially if Vox had seen it as a sacrifice rather than something he was doing willingly.
"...Why?"
There was still little hope that the other would be honest with him. What did he have to gain by doing so?
And yet, Alastor still asked.
Vox stared, and a near visible loading circle would show in his expression for several more moments. Then Alastor’s question and the context finally seemed to click and his eyes slowly slid shut again with a soft little ‘mm’.
“You can’t leave… unaccompanied.. and little miss cannibal queen has no jurisdiction on me.. so if I’m not going… you’re not leaving..”
He explained almost uncharacteristically quietly with little spaces now and then. And his hands moved about in the air over top him as he explained the safety net he had thought up.
“..and if she tries to find a loop hole… I can just… recall you.. at my whim…”
It was almost endearing.. but he had dodged answering why.. and then the shit eating grin returned.
“To shine my shoes or suck my dick…” he giggled lightheartedly to himself, then his mouth opened in another very wide yawn.
Euch his head was going to start splitting open with this headache if he didn’t get some alcohol soon.. he hadn’t drank in.. nearly two days..
His delight at his own humor wrinkled on his face at the first pangs of migraine. The blurry vision in a vague ‘C’ shape in his vision was foreboding.
Very carefully opening his eyes again he found Alastor’s face, and was immediately struck with the urge to kiss the other again- the curls and waves framed the ears so nicely. And they pivoted forward and back and swiveled like little sentient radio antenna.
He was staring a bit too long at the ears before looking away when his stomach gave a very angry growl. He would need to find food to eat again.. maybe some of the food from yesterday was still good.. but he wished he had something sweet. He could often times coerce Valentino into cooking something. Maybe he could get the same from Alastor…
“Hungry..?”
All gays will go to hellsite
What if in hellsite but not gay
NO!
String identified: A ga g t t at t t t ga T tag g a Ag agag Acctac ! T tag g a Ag agag Acctac
Closest match: Psylliodes chrysocephala genome assembly, chromosome: 4 Common name: Cabbage Stem Flea Beetle
(image source)
The white noise seemed to be exactly what Vox’s busy brain needed to sleep deeply. He didn’t budge an inch, laying flat on the bed and his screen entirely off.
His own stomach growled once early evening came around. And Vox stirred finally, his screen giving a wonky blinking flash before turning on very low brightness. He was barely conscious and thoughts weren’t coming back to him in a hurry.
Inhaling deeply though, his gills did pick up on Alastor’s fur’s musk. And he blinked several times to try and bring back the context of the situation to no avail.
His head did slowly creep towards what promised to be a pounding migraine if he didn’t get some vices soon. But he still didn’t move.
Alastor only moved when Vox finally did, though it was not by much. Even as he crawled to consciousness, he was not swift to get back up or get out of the bed, nudging himself a bit closer to Vox for a few lingering moments as he permitted himself to simply appreciate the quiet of the day that had left them alone. In his thoughts, he began to ruminate on events that had transpired, not opening his eyes as he did so, only giving a light stretch of his limbs.
They had made the deal - the thing that Rosie had sent him to do. Finally, he'd been able to cross that off his list amid ensuring that Vox was taken care of and no longer on the precipice of death. Certainly, there were caveats to it - and he would have to act as an emissary for the information he gathered to return it back to Rosie, but...
Wait.
Eyes opening and ears giving a slight lift, he began to further recall exactly what those caveats were. The second had been that he would come when called, no matter if there were an imminent threat or not. Annoying, sure, especially if he were in the middle of something for the hotel or... whatever. But the first...
That he was not permitted to leave the pride ring unaccompanied.
Alastor's head lifted next, suddenly very starkly aware of his surroundings - wakefulness striking him in the head like the ringing of a loud gong.
Vox had negotiated a means to not necessarily keep the radio demon from being sent away... but to go with him, if that were the case. And that realization very nearly made him dizzy as the weight of it began to force itself upon him. Why-
Why would he do that?
Alastor's gaze from where he had half propped himself up on his elbows, shifted over to where Vox seemed to be coming around, albeit much more slowly. His own expression, he was sure, was one of uncertainty and lack of understanding. Vox had people, surely. He had things here. He was not like Alastor in that he could simply be sent away and no one would come looking.
(Although... Vox had gone looking. At the end of the day, perhaps he was the only one who had.)
His ears fell back and he gave a sharp inhale - like he wanted to say something. But what could he say? Vox was not fully awake, he was sure. And would likely only snap at him for questioning it, but... All the same, his voice gave way to the confused utterance that escaped him in the quiet of the room. Not very loud - but obviously stressed, his voice hoarse with the lingering sleep that still wanted to cling to him.
"...Why would you want to come with me?"
There was likely an obvious answer. But Alastor did not dare to hedge his bets on it. Afraid of it being... wrong.
Vox stared sleepily, almost dozing off again with his eyes open.
He felt Alastor shift, then move more abruptly. His own awareness dragging back to himself and looking over toward the deer without moving.
Those ears were moving around like crazy. Did he hear something..?
Now Alastor was staring at him. Was he missing something? Vox took a much deeper inhale from his vents and did his best to rouse himself more so he could focus. He was so comfortable though..
And then the question- but said like a clarifying question.. go with him? To heaven? Because that was their deal. Was the deer going senile?
Vox squinted at Alastor confused and mostly asleep.
“..What?”
His voice was also hoarse and low with residual sleep. But Vox was distracted from investigating more. Staring at the other. The bedhead looked so… appealing… on the other with the curls and waves all over. Not magically straightened.
Vox craved kissing him. But he resisted. He said it was his ego. Unwilling to cave to the forbidden fruit so easily without some sort of apology. (For what even he was unsure.) He wouldn’t be the one crawling back. That he was certain.
The antenna leaned a bit off kilter as he fought with himself internally.
The mounting crabbiness as he shuffled in pain was abruptly melted by Alastor’s hand so gently taking his own. His hand twitched a bit like he had the thought to yank it away, but didn’t. Under the shell he was flexing to keep up, he wanted the softness. Vox’s chest still ached when he thought about feeling like just a tool in a toolbox.
The room was dark and cool, the lights had been off for sometime. The sheets were still fresh. He could feel even more tension sloughing off and sleepiness taking its place. It was like Alastor’s direction was inevitable. He would follow without question. He only had his pants on, and moved to pull them off when the deer started pulling clothes off.
He crawled onto the bed and up against the spot Alastor had prepared. Settling down with a drawn out groan of relief.
Then slowly brought his arms up to stretch but careful of his chest. The blue of his face lit up the room, and darkened briefly while he gave a huge yawn that hid his teeth momentarily.
Despite not drinking, he was already mostly asleep.
He wouldn’t budge likely, sleeping like the dead till nearly midday if the other allowed. The room didn’t allow much natural light.
Thankful that Vox did not pull away, Alastor waited until he was settled before lowering himself similarly, nudging himself up and close against the the other's side. He would not be foolish enough to rest against that injured chest, but Alastor was not about to simply pretend as though he were not fully invested in remaining plastered to Vox's side for as long as he were allowed.
Head on the pillow, body melding into Vox's, he released a slow, long exhale of some sort of relief of his own - the relief he'd not quite shown a few moments earlier in the other room once the deal had been made. The cooling embrace of the sheets and the warm form next to his own were both balms in their own rights, and while he had no real brain power to think very much about what had transpired, he could understand just how drastically he felt his limbs relax for the first time in days.
It took all of a minute or two before he himself drifted off into a heavy, unmoving sleep, breathing easily as he nestled there with the other. Hunger would likely be the reason he would wake, but similarly to Vox, he was not in a hurry to do so as they hid away from the glaring red daylight that might have peered through the window, were it not covered in those heavy curtains.
It was just as well. Alastor wanted to do nothing else.
So he would sleep on, only shifting slightly once or twice when his instinct briefly woke him to ensure the safety of the room around them with a bleary gaze before he rested his head back down and drifted off once again.
For once, the channel that connected them was blessedly silent, save for the subtle hum of relaxed white noise.
The white noise seemed to be exactly what Vox’s busy brain needed to sleep deeply. He didn’t budge an inch, laying flat on the bed and his screen entirely off.
His own stomach growled once early evening came around. And Vox stirred finally, his screen giving a wonky blinking flash before turning on very low brightness. He was barely conscious and thoughts weren’t coming back to him in a hurry.
Inhaling deeply though, his gills did pick up on Alastor’s fur’s musk. And he blinked several times to try and bring back the context of the situation to no avail.
His head did slowly creep towards what promised to be a pounding migraine if he didn’t get some vices soon. But he still didn’t move.
The deal done, he had expected to see some relief from the other. Any amount of gratitude that Vox had used his blanket check to keep the other near. The hurt that crawled into his chest was so stale and familiar that Vox didn’t quite know what to do with it. Without admitting he felt a bit played. Once more.
Even if Alastor didn’t get the same relief, Vox seemed wholly less tense. He looked away from Alastor, sort of avoiding eye contact.
“I’m getting in bed.” He said flatly. Then moved toward the room that they had reconciled in the last time Alastor disappeared. He had half a mind to tell the other to stay out here.
But he wouldn’t.
Vox held the wall as he travelled. The bitterness of him claiming he wanted the other close and met with indifference boiled louder and louder. It was fine.
Neither of them seemed to be in the best position to truly extract all of the benefits from the deal that had been made. Once he'd rested - and was decidedly not drunk -, Alastor would give it more thought - come to a better-made conclusion. One that provided him with significantly more security and safety once he was able to properly understand what they had negotiated.
Watching as Vox began to slink off, Alastor did not immediately move, feeling the reverberating effects of some sort of disappointment in the other's posture. He did not quite understand why. Vox was the one who came out on top in this scenario - but again... Alastor lacked the capacity to truly pick apart the why.
But after a few moments of consideration and belief that nothing would get better until he rested, the radio demon pushed himself back up to his feet, trailing tiredly after Vox until he could step into the bedroom.
Compared to the disaster that the living room had been, it seemed much more safe in the bedroom, tied up with considerably better memories amid the soured ones. His shoulders relaxed significantly, and in spite of what seemed like apathy on his part, he reached to take Vox's hand in his own, unafraid of it being tugged away because of the other's stubbornness.
He would use their joined hands to pull the other the rest of the way towards the bed where he could settle, pulling back the covers so that he could make an effectively warm nest for himself - without intent to move once he was comfortable. There was only the briefest of pauses when he relinquished his hold on Vox's hand, moving to tug his own clothes off with some moderate frustration for how confining they felt in the moment, left in only his fur and his underwear now, rubbing slightly at his own stitching.
They would hopefully stop bothering him once he was asleep.
The mounting crabbiness as he shuffled in pain was abruptly melted by Alastor’s hand so gently taking his own. His hand twitched a bit like he had the thought to yank it away, but didn’t. Under the shell he was flexing to keep up, he wanted the softness. Vox’s chest still ached when he thought about feeling like just a tool in a toolbox.
The room was dark and cool, the lights had been off for sometime. The sheets were still fresh. He could feel even more tension sloughing off and sleepiness taking its place. It was like Alastor’s direction was inevitable. He would follow without question. He only had his pants on, and moved to pull them off when the deer started pulling clothes off.
He crawled onto the bed and up against the spot Alastor had prepared. Settling down with a drawn out groan of relief.
Then slowly brought his arms up to stretch but careful of his chest. The blue of his face lit up the room, and darkened briefly while he gave a huge yawn that hid his teeth momentarily.
Despite not drinking, he was already mostly asleep.
He wouldn’t budge likely, sleeping like the dead till nearly midday if the other allowed. The room didn’t allow much natural light.
Vox muttered to himself and went back to pacing slowly. It was taking an immense amount of effort to think through this all on the amount of rest and recovery he was behind on. He didn’t notice that he was being more obtuse about it than normal. There were more angles to consider.
His own deal, as strained as it was, with the upstairs. The timeframe for sure, he didn’t allow open ended deals typically. The ‘tbd’ type caused grief. But he didn’t want to press for more from Rosie really. Vox knew she was a snake. She would bargain back and it’s possible he would LOSE ground that way.. he respected the nickel and diming.. but not when it was his loss.
Then of course there was the thought of how much he could disrupt Rosie without knowing much… likely why Alastor wasn’t kept in the loop. Which actually lent credit to the others claim of ‘if he knew he would say so’.. maybe Rosie knew that too.
“She doesn’t take risks. That’s what she has you for.” Vox said with some sharpness toward Rosie.
Vox started to pace once again. It was probably more obvious he was trying to muscle through focusing. But he didn’t want to wait. Conditions might change. After cradling his gills sorely a bit longer and more shuffle pacing he finally paused.
“You’ll have the information I have regarding angelics upon request for two months…. At which time if the continuation is not explicitly agreed on by my discretion… the right to information expires. Part of this deal is that you oversee my safety specifically. If I’m harmed in a significant way- I can terminate the right to information. I decide what is significant.”
His hand moved up to rub at his face sorely. He would do anything for his own bed right now.
“My caveat that you offered me… is that you are not to step out of pride ring unaccompanied by me.. this includes dimension work… and you must come to my side when summoned regardless of threat.”
He put his hand out.
“This is the deal.” His hand was sparking a bit, but did not have the same energy as it had maybe in the past.
Alastor said nothing as he continued to observe the other push himself to pace as he seemed to think over what the radio demon had laid out thus far. The comment about Rosie prompted a huff, but it was not one he could necessarily disagree with. He had been sent all up and down the expanse of Hell - and well beyond the pride ring more than enough times - to understand that he was there to take the brunt of the burden for whatever she seemed to be searching for. And he'd only really been permitted to return when it seemed that Hell would not yield the results that she wanted.
Leaning back against the sofa, his arms folded across his chest, turning his gaze elsewhere to keep from growing overly frustrated by Vox's inability to give him a quick answer so that he would be done with this. But his ears remained perked as the other went into more details - about what he had to offer and what he was willing to give. Though the mention of two months as opposed to Alastor's earlier three made him roll his eyes once again. Why bother asking him for a time frame when he was simply going to propose something else?
Not worth the fuss.
The first part was not something he could see fault with. Information. Two months. Contingent on a continuation agreement at the end of that time period. Fine, fine. Overseeing Vox's safety was a given - and though he did quirk a brow slightly at the other's insistence that he be the one to determine was 'significant' was, he was going to have to hope that Vox did not see something as banal as a paper cut as 'significant'.
"As long as you are not out to get yourself harmed purposefully," Alastor clarified, regardless. "Otherwise, the entire deal is a bit moot, don't you think?"
There was some trust being given that Vox would like to remain unharmed, however, so Alastor waved for him to continue after that, still listening as he finally came about to specifying the one provision -
Even if it was actually two that he was proposing, the radio demon's brow furrowing in some significant confusion. If Vox wanted this to end - if he wanted to return back to his cushy life, what was the point in being so quick to pull Alastor back to his side? He did not quite understand that part of it.
Beholden to two individuals - and which leash would take precedence?
In truth... He could not find himself able to care. Let them fight it out, if need be. And beyond that... the idea of being able to prolong his proximity to Vox did not seem like an altogether negative thing - as long as this deal of theirs did not specify that Alastor had to do anything specific when summoned, save for act as a guardian. In that way, he could keep himself from suffering further humiliation if Vox saw fit to try and fenagle him into a stupid fucking chair again.
There were faults to the deal. He knew. But the benefits outweighed them. That aside, he was tired. And he no longer wanted to worry about carrying out Rosie's wishes. He knew what she had requested that he do - and she had given him the license to determine how to do it.
This was what she would get.
With a small exhale, Alastor stared up at the offered hand, only mildly uncertain as he watched it crackle with the other's energy.
What else did he have to lose at this point?
Reaching out, his own palm glowed its familiar eerie green, dark tendrils of shadow coursing from his digits up along his wrist and forearm - until their hands met in the confirming shake, the combined light between them illuminating the room around them before fading entirely - and leaving them once again in silent acceptance.
"...Can we sleep now?" Alastor uttered under his breath, devoid of any remaining energy to provide further dry commentary to what they had just agreed to. It had not quite clicked that Vox would now be guaranteed that no matter where Rosie sent Alastor... that he would not be left behind. At least if she deigned to do so within the allotted time period.
It might come to him later. When he had more capacity to think about it.
The deal done, he had expected to see some relief from the other. Any amount of gratitude that Vox had used his blanket check to keep the other near. The hurt that crawled into his chest was so stale and familiar that Vox didn’t quite know what to do with it. Without admitting he felt a bit played. Once more.
Even if Alastor didn’t get the same relief, Vox seemed wholly less tense. He looked away from Alastor, sort of avoiding eye contact.
“I’m getting in bed.” He said flatly. Then moved toward the room that they had reconciled in the last time Alastor disappeared. He had half a mind to tell the other to stay out here.
But he wouldn’t.
Vox held the wall as he travelled. The bitterness of him claiming he wanted the other close and met with indifference boiled louder and louder. It was fine.
“y’ur go’n t’ topple ov’r.” Vox mocked in a put on nasally voice, wiggling his hands about, and stuck his tongue out. Not caring enough to put effort or thought into a retort more than that. He was sick of the babying and anxiety and annoyed that Alastor would give up so much when he definitely would have been fine.
“I heard all that- but you didn’t tell me- or you don’t know- the window of said needs. What is it- forever? Until you find x y and z? Until someone completes a task?? I’m not agreeing to an unlimited timeframe.”
Vox had a growing despise for the Cannibal queen keeping the other in the dark as much as she was lately. He had half a mind to use that extra boon just to spite her. Throw a wrench in the works.
“You mentioned travel before. Going up there. I need details.”
And then he tripped. Caught himself, but tripped. His muscles ached with the exercise.
The bandages were slowly wiggled free, and Vox was abruptly silent for a long moment while he held his breath. It hurt. Like crazy. Pulling them off his gills was torturous. So much so that he had to pause a second and took a stuttering inhale briefly. His gills were so thin and sensitive. Steeling himself he very carefully pulled the bandages off the right side of his gills also. A little bead of tears by the corner of his eyes. Fuck that hurt more than anything so far.
But it was finally done and he sighed out an exhale heavily. He tried to look down to see his chest, but he had never had a great vantage point. He couldn’t angle his head that steeply easily. So he just rested his hand on the wound and limped a bit back to sit in the chair armrest once more.
Insufferable! He would repeat it if he thought it would help, rolling his eyes and downing another part of his drink, claws tapping slightly on the glass in hand. There was no changing what he'd done, no matter what Vox wished or did not wish. And Alastor did not necessarily regret it, knowing that if it were to happen again... he would do it again. Whether or not Vox saw fit to approve of it.
It was the only real means of expression that he had, it seemed, unable to truly contend with the feelings that came along with it in any verbal way - or in any way that might render him openly vulnerable. His outburst out on the street had been trying enough.
"Not unlimited," he clarified. "A few months, at most. For now. Maybe there are contingencies for an extension later - but your guess is as good as mine in terms of what needs to happen once it's established." Being honest and just as frustrated with Rosie's general desire to remain nebulous about what her goal was and why.
"Start with three months. Then we go from there. It breaks after that amount of time if no progress is made otherwise." That would, at least give Rosie an ultimatum to abide by if she truly wanted to make use of Vox's connections. But when asked for further clarification, Alastor snorted irritably - made doubly agitated by the fact that Vox almost tripped.
"If I knew, I would tell you."
Though that was probably a lie.
"Negotiations, maybe. The prospect of war is not one that I think I would be trusted to carefully maneuver into place, nor would I be very interested in doing so. I can foresee it simply being a means of finding out information that cannot be otherwise gathered from down here. She is no fool. She will not risk herself for something hare-brained."
Glancing up at Vox, he wanted to frown at how the other was beginning to tear away at his bandages. He was going to do that himself - but Vox had never exactly been patient. Fine. Suffer.
"Three months. Your connections and network in exchange for your safety. And one other provision - which you've still yet to define." The hemming and hawing about it was unlike Vox, and Alastor himself was beginning to feel that pervasive impatience as he pushed away the remainder of the food in front of him, finding it unappealing now that he had eaten.
Vox muttered to himself and went back to pacing slowly. It was taking an immense amount of effort to think through this all on the amount of rest and recovery he was behind on. He didn’t notice that he was being more obtuse about it than normal. There were more angles to consider.
His own deal, as strained as it was, with the upstairs. The timeframe for sure, he didn’t allow open ended deals typically. The ‘tbd’ type caused grief. But he didn’t want to press for more from Rosie really. Vox knew she was a snake. She would bargain back and it’s possible he would LOSE ground that way.. he respected the nickel and diming.. but not when it was his loss.
Then of course there was the thought of how much he could disrupt Rosie without knowing much… likely why Alastor wasn’t kept in the loop. Which actually lent credit to the others claim of ‘if he knew he would say so’.. maybe Rosie knew that too.
“She doesn’t take risks. That’s what she has you for.” Vox said with some sharpness toward Rosie.
Vox started to pace once again. It was probably more obvious he was trying to muscle through focusing. But he didn’t want to wait. Conditions might change. After cradling his gills sorely a bit longer and more shuffle pacing he finally paused.
“You’ll have the information I have regarding angelics upon request for two months…. At which time if the continuation is not explicitly agreed on by my discretion… the right to information expires. Part of this deal is that you oversee my safety specifically. If I’m harmed in a significant way- I can terminate the right to information. I decide what is significant.”
His hand moved up to rub at his face sorely. He would do anything for his own bed right now.
“My caveat that you offered me… is that you are not to step out of pride ring unaccompanied by me.. this includes dimension work… and you must come to my side when summoned regardless of threat.”
He put his hand out.
“This is the deal.” His hand was sparking a bit, but did not have the same energy as it had maybe in the past.
Vox was much to dense to forsee Alastor asking for pills for himself and was immediately cranky that the other was attempting to get rid of him so fast. It had been a nice moment.. sort of..
He then was Remembering in a hurry that Alastor might not be here when he woke up from an opioid laced sleep.
Emotion swelled up in his chest before he could bridle it. Unease punched right back into his chest . He was entirely emotionally drained, but the developing situation kept wringing more and more from him.
“You’re not tossing me anywhere. Propose your fucking deal already.” Vox suddenly sounded much more awake. And as much as he wanted to sound unbothered and in control, his voice had sounded rushed. Clipped even like he was anticipating the retry.
Vox gave a muted groan as he gave a pressed noise of effort, and then lifted himself back to his feet. Fuck why had he eaten so much. Anxiety was back made making him feel ill. He couldn’t relax.
At least not until this deal- Vox paused and visibly had an epiphany. His cyan pupils shifted to the sides of the red eyes to size up Alastor for a reason he likely wouldn’t elaborate on. But then started pacing slowly. Not something he had the energy for, and clearly. His feet shuffled and nearly tripped here and there.
The claws moved to the bandages on his chest, starting to tear through them with one of his claws. It hurt. And it would hurt more with removing them. But he wanted to see the damage as well as be rid of them. Whatever would keep him awake. And come to think of it- drinking would not. He would hold off on that.
The roughshod pacing continued.
Vox's sudden diversion, admittedly, caught him off guard. Alastor had been of a mind that the deal could wait, for the time being. Until they had both had some decent amount of uninterrupted rest and could recover from the last few days of discomfort. But now here Vox was, standing up once again to pace - much to Alastor's frustration. Instinct, and a desire to avoid the dour conversation, was telling him that he should just knock Vox out himself and discuss it later. But he knew that he would not be able to do such a thing with how he felt now.
Not until he figured out where those painkillers were, anyway.
With a small exhale, his brow furrowed, and he glanced up at where Vox continued to shuffle, no doubt painfully. Stubborn.
"I already told you - the details have not changed on my part. Safety and security - and a place to stay, if you so will it - in exchange for whatever resources and connections you still have. Networks, contacts. Things that could feasibly provide a better channel for communication and interaction with Heaven, more specifically. But for what singular purpose, I cannot say." Rosie had not exactly been forthcoming with that part of it - probably for good reason.
"And you have license to add another provision onto there to benefit you because of the previous deal being broken. But I won't agree to just anything. Make it make sense."
Now that Vox knew Alastor was acting on a higher authority, the radio demon hoped that the other had something in mind that did not just act as a further punishment. But Vox had always been spiteful and vicious when it suited him - it was anyone's guess.
"And will you sit? You're going to topple over."
All this posturing. It felt unnecessary to him. If Vox ended up passing out and whacking his head on the corner of the coffee table, Alastor was going to put the idiot in a bubble to keep him from further harm. Especially as he noticed that Vox was beginning to work at those bandages, prompting an agitated huff from Alastor, knowing that he could not prevent Vox from doing it -
Irritated all the same.
“y’ur go’n t’ topple ov’r.” Vox mocked in a put on nasally voice, wiggling his hands about, and stuck his tongue out. Not caring enough to put effort or thought into a retort more than that. He was sick of the babying and anxiety and annoyed that Alastor would give up so much when he definitely would have been fine.
“I heard all that- but you didn’t tell me- or you don’t know- the window of said needs. What is it- forever? Until you find x y and z? Until someone completes a task?? I’m not agreeing to an unlimited timeframe.”
Vox had a growing despise for the Cannibal queen keeping the other in the dark as much as she was lately. He had half a mind to use that extra boon just to spite her. Throw a wrench in the works.
“You mentioned travel before. Going up there. I need details.”
And then he tripped. Caught himself, but tripped. His muscles ached with the exercise.
The bandages were slowly wiggled free, and Vox was abruptly silent for a long moment while he held his breath. It hurt. Like crazy. Pulling them off his gills was torturous. So much so that he had to pause a second and took a stuttering inhale briefly. His gills were so thin and sensitive. Steeling himself he very carefully pulled the bandages off the right side of his gills also. A little bead of tears by the corner of his eyes. Fuck that hurt more than anything so far.
But it was finally done and he sighed out an exhale heavily. He tried to look down to see his chest, but he had never had a great vantage point. He couldn’t angle his head that steeply easily. So he just rested his hand on the wound and limped a bit back to sit in the chair armrest once more.
Pleased with that. Vox would savor it.
There was silence for a bit as Vox went through about 2 dishes like it was nothing. Then started slowing on the third before finally stopping. He could feel the weight settling on his muscles as the last bits of adrenaline seeped out, his stomach full, vices sated, Alastor nearby (not that it mattered). He hated that he was struggling to stay awake again.
Vox took a moment to slide down in the chair further while holding the calamari popper container in one hand. One more went in his mouth before stalling a bit, he might burst if he ate anymore. Finally full, he set it aside on the end table.
He didn’t want to sleep anymore. Sure it was late in the evening now, nighttime even, but he had slept so much the past three days, he was sick of it. Ready to get to business. Or at maybe eager to because the food coma was setting in now and he wanted a distraction. Vox gave a loud theatrical sigh. He lifted his arms up slowly intending to give into the urge to stretch his stiff and sore muscles, but then flinched with a grimace and hugged his chest again.
Ow.
“G’me a drink…” he croaked out, shifting again on the couch, and having some trouble getting comfortable. His muscles were too sore to have good posture, and his wound hurt to much to not- and he couldn’t lay down on this short of a couch and he didn’t want to get up and move to the other. Plus if he laid down he would fall asleep.
Vox’s face was doing that very subtle screen static snow effect over his features because he was fighting to stay awake.
Alastor did not consume quite as much as Vox did, coming to some sort of halt after he'd gotten through one dish, sipping at another poured drink before he decided that it was about all he could stomach.
A strange though passed over him; that he somehow missed how his hunger normally prompted him to eat no matter what. How his appetite drove mostly everything else about him. And now, it was taking a backseat - likely until things stabilized further and he did not necessarily feel as though he were consistently in a fight or flight mode. But what he had taken in was enough, for the time being, to stave off any hunger pangs and ensure that he did not, as Vox put it, 'waste away'.
He would be fine.
Not looking up as Vox shifted and squirmed, he did not want to give the impression that he was as paranoid for the other's health as he actually was - but the way that one of his ears remained trained on the television's movements might have been enough to allude to such a thing. He would simply have to dismiss it, if he were asked - he had a feeling with Vox's grunting and groaning that he would not.
Glancing up at the request for a drink, Alastor did not fuss as he reached for the second glass he'd retrieved and poured some of the liquor into it, handing it up to Vox. He himself was now on his third... or fourth. And he was beginning to feel the draw of sleep himself.
The thought, however, of sleeping on the couch was not a very appealing one. They did not fit there very well.
"Do you have painkillers here anywhere here?"
Not necessarily just for Vox - his own chest was giving him some mild discomfort now that his own adrenaline and emotional whirlwind was settling, somewhat. He would happily down an opioid if it were offered to him.
"And then I'm tossing you into bed. That couch is terrible. And you'll complain about being stiff and sore later if you fall asleep there."
It wasn't really. Just smaller than he would have liked.
Vox was much to dense to forsee Alastor asking for pills for himself and was immediately cranky that the other was attempting to get rid of him so fast. It had been a nice moment.. sort of..
He then was Remembering in a hurry that Alastor might not be here when he woke up from an opioid laced sleep.
Emotion swelled up in his chest before he could bridle it. Unease punched right back into his chest . He was entirely emotionally drained, but the developing situation kept wringing more and more from him.
“You’re not tossing me anywhere. Propose your fucking deal already.” Vox suddenly sounded much more awake. And as much as he wanted to sound unbothered and in control, his voice had sounded rushed. Clipped even like he was anticipating the retry.
Vox gave a muted groan as he gave a pressed noise of effort, and then lifted himself back to his feet. Fuck why had he eaten so much. Anxiety was back made making him feel ill. He couldn’t relax.
At least not until this deal- Vox paused and visibly had an epiphany. His cyan pupils shifted to the sides of the red eyes to size up Alastor for a reason he likely wouldn’t elaborate on. But then started pacing slowly. Not something he had the energy for, and clearly. His feet shuffled and nearly tripped here and there.
The claws moved to the bandages on his chest, starting to tear through them with one of his claws. It hurt. And it would hurt more with removing them. But he wanted to see the damage as well as be rid of them. Whatever would keep him awake. And come to think of it- drinking would not. He would hold off on that.
The roughshod pacing continued.
“You were protecting me~” he teased in a singsong mocking voice. He teased and slumped back into the couch further. His claws dragging over the bandages to try and scratch an itch through the fabric.
“Need me nice and safe~ radio demon’s favorite teddy~” he teased further. Of course they had just left the conversation of Alastor going much farther to protect Vox, even to self detriment.
But this was different because Vox saw it happen, he was unconscious for the other. And that was objectively stupid of Alastor to do, this was silly.
“Of course I’m eating. I’m starving. And you’re not impressing anybody by wasting away.”
Vox branded care.
He leaned forward and picked up a whole container of gyoza and just started popping them into his mouth and munching on them.
If Alastor didn’t start eating with some gusto, the tv would take the ‘care’ even further.
"You are insufferable."
But Alastor could not refute what he was saying - except to perhaps make a correction that it was hardly because he saw Vox as a plaything. To further expose his own thoughts on the matter, however, might have been overkill. He'd expressed the sentiment earlier; his reluctance to lose Vox. Surely, that meant something to the point that him reiterating it would be largely unhelpful.
Or maybe Vox was really just that dense. He did not know.
Either way, at least he could harbor some security in the fact that Vox felt well enough to tease and be obnoxious. If he did not, he would simply be passed out on the couch. But instead, Alastor watched as the television began to eat with much more voracity than he had in the last day or so, and that alone provided some reassurance that things were on the upswing.
Glancing back down to the food in front of him, Alastor forced his own thoughts which had kept him from eating anything down into the depths of his brain. He had to - for the sake of survival, he could not permit them to keep him from eating.
And yet, 'gusto' was likely not what Vox would get, either way. Alastor was steadily plucking through things here or there, placing small portions into his mouth to try and steadily chew and swallow. While he'd never been one to be excessive during his meals (at least not in behavior, anyway), he had certainly seemed to savor and enjoy the food he was being given, as long as it was flavorful and sated his needs.
Right now, it seemed much more like he was eating only out of obligation. And perhaps he was.
But at least it was eating, the nausea subsiding for the time being.
Who knew when it might make a comeback, however.
Pleased with that. Vox would savor it.
There was silence for a bit as Vox went through about 2 dishes like it was nothing. Then started slowing on the third before finally stopping. He could feel the weight settling on his muscles as the last bits of adrenaline seeped out, his stomach full, vices sated, Alastor nearby (not that it mattered). He hated that he was struggling to stay awake again.
Vox took a moment to slide down in the chair further while holding the calamari popper container in one hand. One more went in his mouth before stalling a bit, he might burst if he ate anymore. Finally full, he set it aside on the end table.
He didn’t want to sleep anymore. Sure it was late in the evening now, nighttime even, but he had slept so much the past three days, he was sick of it. Ready to get to business. Or at maybe eager to because the food coma was setting in now and he wanted a distraction. Vox gave a loud theatrical sigh. He lifted his arms up slowly intending to give into the urge to stretch his stiff and sore muscles, but then flinched with a grimace and hugged his chest again.
Ow.
“G’me a drink…” he croaked out, shifting again on the couch, and having some trouble getting comfortable. His muscles were too sore to have good posture, and his wound hurt to much to not- and he couldn’t lay down on this short of a couch and he didn’t want to get up and move to the other. Plus if he laid down he would fall asleep.
Vox’s face was doing that very subtle screen static snow effect over his features because he was fighting to stay awake.
me trying to be supportive: can i offer you a nice "we should kill them" in this trying time?
@radioiaci
“…after..” he groused quietly- because why the fuck was he waiting? An extra twenty minutes of coverage would keep him alive? Vox moved his arms to definitively start tearing off the bandages if Alastor wouldn’t… until the deer’s head rested against him and Vox hated how his muscles involuntarily came to a complete halt so as not to disturb.
Vox wasn’t having any grand scheme thoughts, they were trying, but he was holding them back. Too tired to not fall into the huge well of paranoia and bottled emotion that was entangled so deep into this nightmare of a web Alastor had dragged him into.
“…you’re a spoiled f—…” he began to mutter, hushed and spoken almost as if it was intended as estranged endearment. But it was interrupted by the knock.
He couldn’t ignore the way his gut abruptly flip flopped- then remembered the food order. By the time he had remembered it, he heard the prickling of the radio frequencies and saw the sharpening of the antlers not a few inches from his face. His blue pupils going cross-eyed to see them.
Vox was confused for only a moment until he felt the beginning of a hug- only to be aborted immediately after.
His grin suddenly pulled up in a huge elated ego-feeding smirk. Resisting the urge to outright laugh, but it was interrupted his voice.
“We didn’t shake on that yet~ you don’t have to be so protective~” he said smarmy and baiting.
Then he did laugh a bit at the confirmation of whiskey, as if he would ever go without.
“Of course I do. It doesn’t go bad.” Vox gestured vaguely toward the minibar and then very stiffly and slowly started to sit himself up further. Then pulled the sweater off and up over his head. His arms shook a bit with the effort, fatigued and his muscles exhausted. It hurt more than he anticipated and he had to take a second to reel from it.
Vox literally had ordered a bit of everything from Chinese food to steakhouse to pub. And his stomach made an aggressive pinch and very loud growl now that he could smell it better with his shirt off.
It was less that the extra wait time would make much of a difference... and more that Alastor needed a moment to rest before he began to start fiddling so close to the wound that he knew would drum up feelings he did not necessarily want to acknowledge. He wanted to eat first - if possible. To give himself enough strength to hopefully avoid further emotional turmoil and trauma being stoked with a fervency.
He did not want to cry again. It drained him; made him feel far too human. And he had built himself up to be so far beyond what the expected qualifications of a 'human' were considered down here.
Vox's goading prompted a slight roll of his eyes, but so too did it strike him somewhere internally. Yet. Did that mean Vox was still considering accepting the deal...?
If Alastor brought it up again before the other were ready, he knew that it would only be swatted away with aggression, and so he bit his tongue for the moment, distracted anyway by the pointing out of the mini bar. It was enough to force him to get back up to his feet to go and retrieve a bottle and a pair of glasses, setting them down on the coffee table next to the food. It took every part of him to inwardly convince himself to not simply drink away his hunger. That would likely not help much.
But he would pour himself the drink first, tilting it back into his mouth to take the entire glass down in one massive swig. Another dose of that liquid courage he knew so much - and hoping that it might sharpen his hunger. Or, at the very least, not cause him to feel excessively ill for it.
He paused, however, swallowing back a bit of pride to say:
"If you eat, I will eat."
Or he would force the food down. In whatever way he had to. But if he were able to witness the other exercising a bit of normalcy, then perhaps it might ease his own trepidation about it all.
“You were protecting me~” he teased in a singsong mocking voice. He teased and slumped back into the couch further. His claws dragging over the bandages to try and scratch an itch through the fabric.
“Need me nice and safe~ radio demon’s favorite teddy~” he teased further. Of course they had just left the conversation of Alastor going much farther to protect Vox, even to self detriment.
But this was different because Vox saw it happen, he was unconscious for the other. And that was objectively stupid of Alastor to do, this was silly.
“Of course I’m eating. I’m starving. And you’re not impressing anybody by wasting away.”
Vox branded care.
He leaned forward and picked up a whole container of gyoza and just started popping them into his mouth and munching on them.
If Alastor didn’t start eating with some gusto, the tv would take the ‘care’ even further.
