△ on the air △

It takes a moment to register, then Vox squints, processing in essence an unspoken offer. Then he perks up.

"No. You haven't," Vox says pointedly because it's no secret that Alastor is withholding over the many aspects of his personal life. And no, of course he never surrendered the information of his human death, the way he kept all his cards close to his fucking chest.

... But that sounded an awful lot like sharing.

He listens. Not sure what to make of that. Somehow, it makes sense to him... but maybe it's because he's only ever known Alastor's physical visage as a deer. Maybe because he's been the one hunting him all these decades.

"You mean.. You got killed on accident?" He cocks his head. Processing that. "Huh."

Kind of anticlimactic.

But he focuses back on the teasing, devious grin falling back into place as he baits Alastor with another hint of something nefarious... Before his fingers inch across to bridge the gap between their hands, and the tips of his claws play with Alastor's, eventually sinking in to braid them together.

"Mm. Perhaps I meant to, at some point," he uttered, only half committed to that belief. Alastor did not often speak of it anyway... but if he were to trust anyone with it who he did not believe would cackle like a hyena (in the way that Rosie did) about it, then Vox was up there on the list.

Well. Now he was, anyway. Or. Now, he was... again.

That was more than he wanted to think about it just then.

"It was either an accident or something meant to look like one. I'm afraid I never found out. I would not have been the first man of color to find an unfortunate death in the middle of the bayou, at any rate." That too, was spoken a bit casually - as though he did not want to go down the rabbit-hole of race relations in his era.

But he glanced at the other with careful concentration, ears threatening to fold back as he waited with bated breath for whatever nonsense Vox was about to share with him in turn, ready to roll his eyes or scoff at a crude joke or -

Oh.

Instead, he felt the press of those claws against his own, wanting to instinctively pull away, but fighting against the urge as best as he could, simply for curiosity's sake.

But before long, their claws were entwined - and Alastor did not... know what to do about that.

So after a few long seconds of staring down at their joined hands, he simply defaulted to giving a slightly embarrassed huff, and turned his gaze away.

Even if he did not remove his hand.

"It's not fucking paranoia if it has historical basis behind it, asshole," he grits out in response to Alastor's words, staring him down with his electricity giving a low hum like an angry bee nest. "You want the list chronologically, or alphabetically? How about a couple short months ago, huh? When you pretended like you were at my complete mercy the entire time, when really you were just planning to fuck me over like you always do? When you tricked me with a fucking technicality?" Yes, he is still choosing to be salty about that, thank you very much. For as much as he and Alastor have picked at each other over the years, at least he's never tried to bullshit his former friend. Not to his face, anyway. And anyway, Alastor has no reason to be acting nice all of a sudden, to be doing a complete 180 in terms of how much he's tolerating the TV demon's presence. They pick at each other until one manages to worm their way down to the bone of the other, they occasionally try to beat the shit out of each other with varying amounts of success, and then they go home to lick their wounds. That's what he's used to, not this strange facsimile of kindness.

Kindness isn't following the script that he's developed in his head of how their encounters normally go, and he hates how off kilter it makes a part of him feel. Like Alastor's managed to find another way to throw him off his game, in spite of everything.

Really, it's his complete inability to let someone have the last word in a conversation he's carrying with them that works to Alastor's advantage in the next moments. As the Radio Demon turns away, that slight pinching feeling in his gut reminds him that he really hasn't eaten anything of substance all day, and that along with the indignation over being ignored in such a blatantly obvious way is enough to spur him into disappearing in a flash of electricity and then reappearing by Alastor's side, scowling and letting out a loud huff like an aggrieved dog. "Fuck you, I want whatever the hell a Bombay roll is. God knows everything they serve here is absolute slop." It's more like he hasn't had the will or energy to attend much in the way of scheduled mealtimes lately, but hey, what Alastor doesn't know won't kill him. It's not like he's technically capable of dying of starvation anyway, therefore he refuses to see it as the problematic habit that it's starting to become. "But I will be watching for you deciding to sneak some creepy Hell poison into it or something. I know well enough to not put that past you."

Vox was not entirely incorrect, but Alastor knew that it had not always been that way. He rolled his eyes as the television recounted the events that neither would live down for quite a long time, he was sure, but that did not mean he was especially thrilled to hear it recounted to him again, and Vox's insistence that he was the only victim throughout their exchange made the radio demon's fur bristle.

"You electrocuted my ears," he snipped in turn, still rather peeved about that in particular. "Paraded me about town, exposed me in the one medium I prefer to remain away from, encouraged the public to speculate about my tail, and if you'd been as thorough with our deal as I am sure you are with all others, then you wouldn't have been tricked. I hardly see how it's my fault that you did not give it ample thought before agreeing to it." It was what he'd been hoping for, of course, but Vox had very few to blame but himself. Had he not agreed, then none of it would have happened! Alastor would be up the creek without a paddle and back to square one - and he would have to try harder to get himself free.

But Vox's lack of foresight had been a boon. He would not apologize for it.

"I'm not interested in hearing your complaints about it. I am too hungry for that," he continued, waving a hand dismissively, and about to leave the other behind before that same desire to get one over on him seemed to encourage Vox to follow nonetheless, bad temper or no.

There was satisfaction in that too.

"You wouldn't have to eat the slop if you were up when I am cooking. The others are terrible at it." When compared to he, anyway, much more prideful about his cooking. "Set your alarm an hour earlier and you will be present for it."

Still nitpicking even now, he knew. But this was hardly anything truly harmful. Vox would survive, even if he did not believe he would.

"I would not poison a perfectly good Bombay roll," Alastor said, indignant. "Do you know how hard it is to get those to taste as they should??? What a waste of ingredients. Premium ingredients, might I add. This place does not skimp on the luxury quality." Which was why he was leading the way to it, the terse television in tow.

"I already told you, I am not interested in killing you. You can choose to believe it or not. But if I truly wanted to shunt a holy blade into your sternum, it would not be very hard to do. And with how annoying you tend to be, I would have done so long before now, if that were the case."

"Oh! I sssseee!" Pentious was clearly satisfied with the brief answer and did not press Alastor further.

He stepped forward to capture the slippery Fitzgerald from the other sinner and gave her a sound smooch upon her smooth shell. "Weren't you a lucky lass! Did you remember to say pleassssse and thank you?"

The smallest egg could only reply when Pentious released her from the confines of the hand towel he used to swiftly dry her off, which she did with great enthusiasm.

"Fitz in bag bite biiiig fish boss bite fish uhhoh."

"Oh, is that sssso? How exciting." Sir Pentious gave Alastor a knowing smirk between comrades.

The eggs and their nonsense!

"You must meet Fiona properly, Fitzgerald. And you too, doe. We shall go ahead; take your time with your bath. I know she must've been a handful!"

Pentious leaned in to kiss Alastor's wet cheek.

Well, now he just looked a bit of a fool, sitting there in the bath alone while Fitzgerald was taken from their little sudsy moment to be dried and about to be absconded with. As if he'd done little more than just babysit for a few errant minutes! Instead of an entire afternoon!

He simply sat there as Pentious prattled, giving a small look of acknowledgement before he was kissed and then left to the rest of his bath without even managing to get in a word edge-wise.

Alone again, Alastor breathed out a sigh.

This was silly.

He took his time in rinsing off and drying before getting dressed to go and check up on the poor, wayward Fiona, knowing that it was more than likely that he would be keeping his and Fitzgerald's brush with danger a secret.

But there was something, and it was in Alastor's tired little sigh, and Worth realized then that any further teasing would likely get a similar response.

And that was probably for a reason, even if it wasn't being explicitly named.

"Fair 'nuff."

Refusal of his offering didn't bother him much and he just tucked the pack of cigarettes back into his coat pocket. Took a drag off his own and then, after a moment, brightened up a bit.

"A passion for fashion, eh? You do dress rather sharp. Cufflinks an' coattails an' all that. An' clothes are easier to change than lovers, that's for sure."

He nudged Alastor a bit with his elbow. Have a little teasing.

If Worth could catch any sort of aura from the radio demon as they walked, a wave of gratitude might have been evident when Worth decided to drop the subject. Though the topic did not make him uncomfortable, per se, it was just a rehashing of so many conversations he'd had before with others who simply did not seem to Get It. And feeling 'othered' in such a way was never his favorite pastime. It was just better to simply not talk about it.

So he would cling to the other matter of discussion as they carried on, passing between the borders of districts rather readily as other sinners gave Alastor - and by extension, Worth - a rather wide berth, not wanting to run afoul of either, just in case the radio demon were feeling especially ornery or impatient.

Luckily, he was not feeling either. He was mostly just hungry.

"One should remain presentable," he replied with a nod. "And I've found that wearing a sort of... uniform in public tends to give others an idea of what to expect." Which made it that much more impactful when he subverted expectations in other ways.

He did tilt his head, slightly, at the mention of Worth's evident prowess with a sewing machine, eyeing the coat with a bit of a squint.

"I'd thought you'd just purchased it from a very particular outlet. But that makes much more sense. I've never been especially proficient with sewing." If his own wounds were any indication. "Mayhaps I will have you teach me. It would help lower my costs to the tailor, at any rate." (Not that he paid for that, but...)

As if he hadn't invited Alastor in the first place but SHHHH. Vox was only bitching to bitch now. Not that it lasted for long as he leaned forward to grin at the other overlord.

"Then you should thank me for a death accompanied by yours truly, instead of alone, amid your trash and filth."

Don't sass him. He'll do it right back.

Alastor's eyes had already closed, as though he were going to just outright sleep there where he had laid, until he opened one to peer at Vox who was now more or less in his space.

"You will regret inviting me to do that, and so I will give you one more opportunity to give me somewhere more acceptable to lay before I entirely take you up on the offer."

"Yes, if only because one is required of me and the other is not," Alastor grunted in turn, unable to elaborate beyond that. Not that he believed Vox needed a hand-hold to figure out that the radio demon was bound by something or other to the princess and her shenanigans - otherwise he would not be there at all.

He eyed Vox's sour expression that appeared soon after, watching him as he decided to slowly, steadily shift so that he was laying on desk - or counter - or console... whatever it was - instead, giving a lazy stretch, not unlike some kind of large and lanky cat.

"In that case... I suppose it would not kill them to go without me for a little while."

Alastor could not say for how long, necessarily - but having Vox nearby felt better to him, in the moment, than not.

Okay, having a ruler up to his chest bothered him a bit. And now something gnawed in his mind. As if he connected imaginary dots to a conclusion that wasn't here nor there.

"Mmm, does that really constitute as flirting? I'm not familiar with the concept," Alastor lied, obviously being cheeky as he brought his 'measurement' up to his eyes to fix his glance downward on it, nodding as though it confirmed something unsaid.

"But if you are asking whether or not I'd like to consume your flesh, I would imagine that would have been obvious from the day we'd met. And really, you've only grown since then - so perhaps!" Vox would have a hard time getting a straight-forward answer from him, regardless.

"Tragic that no one wants that rom-com musical experience of having a ridiculous twink serenade them in public to the acclaim and jealousy of onlookers, but I suppose I do appreciate the appeal of a reaction unclouded by self-consciousness or the public pressure to cringe from my painful earnestness," he sighed, collapsing dramatically onto the bed, sprawling beside Alastor.

But that look he received, that softened gaze, to know that Alastor did see some prospect in him. Well. He couldn't deny it didn't please him. As he'd said earlier, he didn't have any expectations of where the evening would take them, or what Alastor would feel comfortable with. René could enjoy endless flirting and banter without any sense of loss or disappointment.

"Don't worry, you are safe from my theatrics in public, or may God finally smite me where I stand." Mildly tempting, though, he could admit to himself. But as momentarily amusing as Alastor's public rebuff and embarrassment would be, he did prefer this moment between them, that begrudging enjoyment he'd brought out.

"Mm, I'd much rather take part in a gothic horror about some sort of monster and some sort of human both finding themselves at odds with one another while also finding connection in mutual passions. And perhaps also there are knives and blood involved. With a good soundtrack and the right desaturated color palette."

Nosferatu. He was really just referring to his favorite film, nodding sagely as though he were the first to come up with such a concept, knowing full well he had not.

"Painful earnestness may still have a role to play in such a tale, however," he continued, smirking at the other.

His claws returned to noodling a bit at the strings of the banjo, with no particular aim in how he strummed them until Rene questioned him, and he paused to give it some thought.

"Heard of Bury Me Beneath the Willow?" Alastor asked, though he did not wait for a response before positioning his claws onto the frets with some care, plucking one or two strings to ensure he was in the right key before carrying on with the tune. If Rene were invested in the artistry of singing to accompany the tune, then the radio demon would certainly not shy away from sharing his own voice, the slightest bit of his southern twang entering into his accent as his strumming picked up with the melody and his voice accompanied the surprisingly depressing lyrics to what sounded like an otherwise upbeat tune.

His smile was a tiny bit forced before he busied himself with a generous sip of coffee. As if his blood wasn't 90% of it at this point. "But I mean...you can still do that now, if you really want to," he muttered, avoiding Alastor's eyes. So if Al said 'no' it wouldn't upset him all that much. Clearly.

"Mm, yes - all of my scheming to unclog toilets and chase away degenerates like the world's least appreciated hound," Alastor griped as he stepped over to where he could settle himself onto one of the desks, likely not looking much better than Vox, but occupying himself with sipping at the coffee he'd brought for himself.

One of his ears twitched gently as Vox made his not-so-subtle proposal, giving him a sidelong glance before breathing out a small snuff.

I can't fucking stand incompetent people bruh, today has been so fucking aggravating. got up early so I could go pick up the keys to mango's apartment, only for them to be like: UHHH CLEANER'S NOT HERE YET SO CAN'T GIVE YOU KEYS TIL THEY CLEAN, WE'LL CALL YOU LATER ONCE THEY'RE DONE

ok

everything's in my car, I'm ready to go start putting small things inside so that the bulk of the moving tomorrow can be done by the movers

FIVE HOURS GO BY

finally call me, tell me that the cleaners STILL AREN'T THERE, but that they're gonna "try their best" to get me in before they close at 6pm to get the keys, but that they'll come in last resort tomorrow (even though they are closed) for me to pick up the keys tomorrow morning

when I'm ALREADY coordinating with Uhaul and movers at the same time tomorrow morning, and if I have to stop in the middle of doing that to go pick up keys and have the movers standing around doing fuck all, I'm gonna be so fucking agitated

it should not be this hard. idk why the apartment was scheduled to be cleaned the day before someone was meant to move in. are they fucking high.

I took the day off for this, so I've wasted so much time and energy and if I Have to coordinate the key pickup for TOMORROW on top of everythihng else, I will not be fuckin happy

RAAAAAHHH

JUST DO THE THINGS THAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO THEM FFS

ok anyway

I can't fucking stand incompetent people bruh, today has been so fucking aggravating. got up early so I could go pick up the keys to mango's apartment, only for them to be like: UHHH CLEANER'S NOT HERE YET SO CAN'T GIVE YOU KEYS TIL THEY CLEAN, WE'LL CALL YOU LATER ONCE THEY'RE DONE

ok

everything's in my car, I'm ready to go start putting small things inside so that the bulk of the moving tomorrow can be done by the movers

FIVE HOURS GO BY

finally call me, tell me that the cleaners STILL AREN'T THERE, but that they're gonna "try their best" to get me in before they close at 6pm to get the keys, but that they'll come in last resort tomorrow (even though they are closed) for me to pick up the keys tomorrow morning

when I'm ALREADY coordinating with Uhaul and movers at the same time tomorrow morning, and if I have to stop in the middle of doing that to go pick up keys and have the movers standing around doing fuck all, I'm gonna be so fucking agitated

it should not be this hard. idk why the apartment was scheduled to be cleaned the day before someone was meant to move in. are they fucking high.

I took the day off for this, so I've wasted so much time and energy and if I Have to coordinate the key pickup for TOMORROW on top of everythihng else, I will not be fuckin happy

RAAAAAHHH

JUST DO THE THINGS THAT YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO DO THEM FFS

ok anyway