△ on the air △

"I would be a bit insulted if it didn't," Foster admits with a small grin, leaning into the pull Kou had started. His forehead touches the other deer demon's, and Foster can't help but think about how every physical interaction he's had with Kou has never made his skin crawl.

Special, then. Kou is special, and Foster is happy to keep him around.

Tell him he is special and there is little doubt that he will happily be kept around for Foster's purpose and consumption, if he so pleases. As is, Hartfelt rests his forehead readily back to the other's, humming lightly in his throat.

"Not the sort to thrive in isolation, I suppose?" He deigns to ask, shutting his eyes for a moment to engage in the conversation in his comfortable state. "Not that I'm especially thrilled about it either, but... Keeping others at a distance has typically been my preference..."

As if that isn't alarmingly obvious. Foster likely knows more than anyone what that could be like, even if he himself has a slightly different outlook.

"We need to hide it in the place I mentioned before. Quickly follow me! Like I said the place is outside his view. I know it is because I covered all the eyes and gouged them out. He never goes there, he never finds me there I made sure of it. Its in the Theme Park if you can speed us up in getting there that would be great. If he clicks his fingers we're done for we won't be able to run anywhere. We'd be powerless..."

Normally she wouldn't have admitted that but Alastor was in this with her now. They were both beyond the point of no return. But, that was so exciting! She loved this so much! It was so thrilling far beyond anything! She was already running off trying to take hold of one of Alastor's hoof while trying to drag him along with her since he was giving off that nonchalance once more. Either that or she was panicking deep down.

"Once it is somewhere safe, we can experiment at our leisure with it. Find out how we can change it, alter it, do whatever we like with it. If we learn to understand it we take power away from Caine."

Once more she was playing to what she thought Alastor wanted to hear. Deep down she only wanted to use the orb to create her own personal world to escape to. A place to escape when she needed to.

"You want to see that happen don't you?"

God, no she felt sickness rise up again. She really was talking like her mother by saying that. That was a step too far so toned it down.

"And I want to see it too..."

"Boy, you really leave no room for narrative nuance, do you?" Alastor quipped before his hoof was taken haphazardly, doing his utmost to keep up with her more stringy stride with his smaller hooves. He was not tiny, but certainly not tall - and he had to make an active effort to not stumble as they made their way down to this secret place that Gangle spoke of with little to no time to waste.

"There's a lot riding on that 'if', Noodle, but if your intent is to collapse the hierarchical power structure to this place, then I guess I'm not about to stop you!"

For some reason, she seemed wholly fixated on the orb being the only real means of accomplishing such a feat, but who was he to add a conflicting perspective to that belief? It was a decent hypothesis, and he would at least be present to see it through to its eventual conclusion.

Ideally, with an ending that did not end up permanently deleting either of them. (Well... him, more than her. Her punishment was likely to simply be a continued existence of strange digitization. Humans rarely found anything to be more daunting than that.)

Nearing the place which she spoke of, Alastor gave the slightest tug to return his hoof unobtrusively back to himself, flexing the hardened digits before giving a slight snuff of air from his large, round nose.

They could go in circles bickering like this all afternoon, which honestly Vox wouldn't mind doing. It wasn't exactly like the old days- no, back then Vox had been bending over backwards to please Alastor, he had never been bold enough to disagree with such frankness until after they'd become sworn rivals.

He considered which imminent threat he'd rather face, Charlie Morningstar's unhinged gang of angel sympathizers, who might try to kill him on sight, even on Alastor's arm - Or Velvette and Valentino if they saw he was spending time with Alastor again after...

It was a no brainer, he'd pick the hotel over every time. Besides, he was confident enough in the art of sneaking about. He would bet he could pop in without anyone ever being the wise (unlike Vee Tower, which had always been a surveillance state, but now it was a surveillance state to his detrement).

But the mention of Alastor's old house catches his attention.

"Yeah. Let's go there."

Despite his immediate agreement he feels a twinge of nervousness. The last time he'd been invited over there circumstances had been very different.

"Oh, uh. Right." He appraises their joined bodies.

No way around it. If he wanted to get to Alastor's house (which he really did) then he would probably have to ease up for a bit.

Finally, Vox stepped back, immediately missing the warmth that had been Alastor's slighter frame melded against his.

Vox cleared his throat.

It had been an offer given before Alastor could have feasibly given it any real thought. In the last seven years, the house had been untouched - and even before that, he had certainly made no attempt at shuffling away things that he'd kept to maintain his own attachment to sentimental objects and items. And now that he remembered them, he knew that he would have to entirely ignore them so as to not look the fool that he might otherwise.

When Vox finally stepped back and away, Alastor gave a near animalistic shake of his limbs to get himself put back to rights, whatever small patches of his fur that had been bristled finally laying flat now that he had his own personal bubble back.

Being so clung to had been as upsetting as it had been relieving. It was a strange opposing force.

"I expect you to keep up," he said aloud, turning to face the direction of the district where the house was, sparing Vox a momentary glance before dipping entirely into the inky expanse of his own shadow.

Alastor had never been able to teleport - but traveling through the darkened silhouette was quick and kept him from being spotted. By most, anyway. Vox had only ever been the exception, his own ability to detect the radio demon giving him an advantage. And as Alastor surged along the ground and through the blackened corners of the streets, he knew that the television - capable of traveling by means of electricity - could feasibly keep in pace with him, keeping them both from any eyes that might dare to follow them.

Predator and prey.

Valentino watched Alastor settle back against the arm of the sofa. He didn't look sad so much as drained. The conversation had clearly taken something out of him. And after a moment's hesitation, Valentino unfolded his wings and shifted closer, crawling into the familiar space between Alastor's thighs. He wanted the comfort of another body against his own. The steady rise and fall of Alastor's chest, the gentle rhythm of his breathing, seemed to quiet some of the noise in his head.

He had already decided that digging through everything Dimitry had done to him wasn't worth it. There was nothing to gain from dragging those memories back into the light. A small part of him was grateful that Alastor wasn't the sort to pry. He never understood why people insisted talking about trauma was supposed to be healing. Valentino didn't want to analyze it, process it, or make peace with it.

He wanted to forget it.

Unfortunately, forgetting wasn't always an option.

The memories had wormed their way back into his head anyway, along with one of the crueler things the wasp overlord had done to him. His hand drifted to his stomach, fingers curling lightly against it. Decades had passed, but every so often he could still swear he felt movement there. Phantom sensations. The memory of something that was long gone but had never really left him.

Except for the smallest hum of his own brand of white noise, Alastor did not deign to speak, waiting for Valentino to settle against him and maintain a presence there while the other seemed to contend with something in his mind. The radio demon was not much of a sort to offer comfort outside of just being a general foundation, but he did not think he would be able to speak on such past hang ups and trauma, even if he was.

His eyes had closed, briefly, when the other addressed him. Humming in acknowledgement to the pet name, his eyes only opened once more when Val seemed to be on the precipice of requesting a favor.

Or something akin to one, anyway.

"I can't very well say that I am capable of giving you anything," Alastor began in a slight murmur, though that seemed unhelpful - and perhaps a touch too honest. So he sidestepped it, continuing on.

"Okay."

Fitzgerald chose to take Alastor's words in stride, and accepted that their bathtub was fish-free. The little egg reached for a loofah that hung off the side of the bath, and began to shake it around and drag it through the water in the place of the toys her other boss would hand her during bathtimes. She swirled the item around, considering the foam it emitted and how it reminded her of the mouths of those bad demons from the street.

"Boss," she said, a contemplating expression drawn on her small features. Fitzgerald still could not understand why anyone would treat her badly. She was boss' princess, and people were supposed to do what she wanted. Not to scare her or laugh at her. Or try to grab her, either.

How could such a thing even happen! It was impossible.

Settling in comfortable silence, Alastor was content to simply watch her fiddle about with the loofah until the water ran a bit lukewarm and he felt it time for them to get out. What he did not expect was the addressing of him and the subsequent question, his ears lifting with some curiosity as he glanced down at her. The egg girls had always seemed much more thoughtful, in general - and that was beginning to show, even with her at her younger age.

But it took him a moment or two to understand what she meant.

"Ah-" He said, when he finally put two and two together.

"The fish that accosted us? I suppose in the grand scheme, they were only doing what they tend to do. Aggravate and be a nuisance."

Alastor did not believe that she would fully understand, but he plodded along anyway.

"They saw you as something to take advantage of. It happens when you are smaller. But I would not have permitted them to hurt you." No matter her size or age, at this point.

HAPPY PRIDE FROM OUR AROACE KING!!

Vox snapped back instantly. He knew it was a weak accusation and very unlikely that Alastor was guilty of the crime he'd alleged, but it was a lazy way to grab back some control on the situation. It seemed to be working at the very least to fluster Alastor a little. Vox would be proud to report that he was capable of that much at least.

"News flash, you're already a well known deviant, nothing I say or do is ever gonna change that."

Maybe not the kind of deviant Alastor was implying but a deviant no less. The contrarian in him, the part that instinctively butt heads with Alastor, grips him tighter. He's like a koala with a tree branch at this point, not even the antenna flick deterred him though he did exclaim in short outrage as it wobbled back and forth on his head and frazzled his screen slightly while reconnecting his preferred signal.

"Yeah go on, victim blame, that's real classy," he huffs without any real malice. He still hadn't totally processed the fact that Alastor just made him... You know. The Radio Demon had gambled correct that Vox was not going to call him out on the fact that he obviously had the power to leave at any time. The pathetic part of Vox didn't want to remind him in case he had somehow forgotten.

"Trying to sneak me out somewhere private, huh? What, you want to take advantage of me more in my vulnerable state? Well, I suppose I do owe you, I can return the favor."

He was prepared for rejection, but still having fun pressing Alastor's buttons with these teases. Vox was hesitantly assuming that Alastor also didn't want to break company at the moment, else he would have done so by now. Vox on the other hand was still feeling needy after his system malfunction and the subsequent ... explosion. It took a lot out of the guy. He could really go for a nap.

"You proclaiming yourself a victim is ridiculous."

Irony of the greatest magnitude. Alastor himself had not quite come to terms with the strange, sexual nature of what he'd just done - knowing that it had given the other some sort of strange physical gratification, if the appearance of his lower half had been anything to go off of. But he was divorcing that from his belief that it was anything gratifying for him in turn. No, he'd just been following an impulse. That was all.

Or, at least, that was what he would tell himself.

"The fact that you claim me to be wanting to take advantage with no real sense of urgency tells more about you than it does me," he continued, snuffing irritably as he shifted, slightly, on his feet. Like he was about to go somewhere, but was still debating on where.

He balked, however, at Vox's suggestion.

"Oh, yes, and you shall be incredibly welcome at the hotel, of all places. You step a single foot in there and you will have a spear jettisoned into your face faster than you can blink." Alastor would not put it past Vaggi to not wait for Charlie's consideration for such an event.

"...It will have to be my other house."

The one he had not been back to since his absence, that lay untouched but abandoned at the edge of the Doomsday District, likely simply gathering dust.

He could look so evil one moment and so pure the next. How much of that was a mask? What was real? What was fake? He liked music, dance, and song, but he also liked scary things. Like a lot of scary things. He leaned more into horror than Jax ever did. He seemed to enjoy unsettling people, spooking them even mentioning harm a lot.

Yet, he had looked so innocent drawing with her that first time. These two things didn't match up inside her head. And no matter how she tried to connect the puzzle pieces it just didn't form a picture she could make sense of. Not that she was a detective or anything oh no. She was just a curious sort, and couldn't help but dive into stuff like this.

And just now, with him calling her Noodle as an "endeering" nickname. Hehe, see? It has deer in it so its a pun! Along with the whole therapy thing, did he really mean it in a caring way? Or was he joking?

You might be asking why Gangle was reflecting so much. Well, honestly? She was freaking out about the whole circle thing Alastor just pulled out of his mouth! Like how the heck could he do that?! She had never had never seen an avatar gimmick like that! How would Caine have allowed a player to have that sort of ability?! And why did it feel like her own mask gimmick only made her suffer rather help her like Alastor’s did? It felt unfair in a way...like she got a bad ability....

But, all thoughts ended when she was grabbed and thrown through the hole while she was still lost within her many swirling thoughts. Wanna know the main reason she doesn't want therapy? Because if she talked about one thing, she would talk about everything! She needed to sort out her emotions more before she could be more honest. So as to not overwhelm anyone she told. She basically needed to untangle herself.

Honestly, doing something like this against an authority figure. It felt like something her sister would have wanted to do. She was very balls to wall, in your face, screaming out her disdain for those above her. Maybe, the reason Gangle chose to go along with Alastor in blowing open the door was because of the many regrets she had for not taking up her sister's many offers to go cause some trouble. Of going out there and making the mistakes that kids made together so they learned.

So while she was on the floor in a heap with Alastor landing nearby. Gangle looked towards the deer and said with a small tear in her eye.

"That was a lot of fun...thanks for sharing that with me."

Gangle would get no answers by probing further into Alastor's motivations or behavior. He was programmed for a singular purpose, bred to blend in with the status quo, only to then pull the rug out from under their feet. That he was a bit quirky was likely just a byproduct of his creation and his creator. No one had ever said the man who had cobbled together the little deer's coding had been particularly stable or socially adept. As a result, it was no wonder that Alastor harbored just a few of those oddities in his own personality.

Evil. Pure. None of it meant much of anything to he who was little more than a construct, built for anarchy on a baser level.

Alastor took a moment to glance at the other, still tangled in a ribbony pile as the parasol was oh-so-casually discarded to the side. Someone else might find it later - or they might not. It was inconsequential to the deer now, reaching with hooves to lightly dust himself off as if his landing had been any level of jarring for he himself. The 'circle' portal he'd utilized to get them away from Caine's office was no longer there to be seen, and no one would likely be the wiser of their little scheme.

"I was beginning to think you did not understand the concept of 'fun'," Alastor spoke in turn, head tilting slightly as his typical smirk remained plastered onto his features.

"But if this marks your beginning journey of being what can effectively be considered a circus criminal, then I am glad to hear that you find what is, quite possibly, the most intrusive way to kick that off.""

Hands on his hips, he made an attempt to gauge her mood, one ear giving a light flick in the direction of what... could be construed as the hall that lead to Caine's office. Alastor presumed that if the guy noticed any of their shenanigans, that they would hear about it. For the moment, all was quiet.

"Now what?"

He did try to keep the grin off his face when asked to keep a secret himself in return. Ironic, in a way, and also completely unnecessary. His confidentiality had been woven into their deal from the start and, even if it hadn't, Alastor's reluctance to have anyone fussing over him was endearing enough for Worth to play along with the request.

Whether or not the worry behind that request was warranted.

And, for that matter, even if no one else in the hotel wanted to make a big deal out of a bite wound, Worth did. He would again, if given the chance, and maybe not just because that's what he was brought here for.

Alastor didn't exactly wait for an answer, but might have still heard Worth call out to his retreating crimson form.

"Oh really? An' here I was gonna go knockin' on doors an' tellin' people!"

But okay. Tomorrow. He stretched a little with arms above his head before finally getting back up from the floor. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder and making his way back to his room. (Or, actually, taking a short detour, leaning over the railing of the stairs, and possibly trying to listen in on Husker's shake-down. He liked the catman and wouldn't mind seeing him harassed a bit.)

Most of Alastor's approach to Husker was an obscene amount of boundary breaking, annoying hovering, and the poking and prodding of his furry cheeks and ears until the old cat grew frustrated enough to ask him what he wanted. It seemed as though the bartender was accustomed to this sort of behavior, because other than an occasional grouse and fluffing of his fur, he did not push Alastor away by any real measure. Husk would eventually fork over the cash with a roll of his eyes, and Alastor would offer him a bottle of manifest - and unique - liquor in turn. An equivalent exchange, despite what he may have alluded to otherwise.

But then, Alastor had retreated to his own room, to mull over the wound care he'd been given and to think of a secret that might have been acceptable to this verbal exchange, no matter if it had been an official deal or not to lump onto their existing one.

It took him much longer than he might have liked.

But by the time the next day rolled around, he had decided on what he'd wanted to share, again stepping from his room and out through the hotel with no real sense of urgency to seek Worth out. They would cross paths, more than likely, before the day was out. And that belief was what kept him from absconding in the other direction once he finally did spy the old, scruffy cat man.

From his pocket, he produced the twenty-dollar bill.

"Twenty. As agreed," Alastor said, matter-of-factly. "And I imagine you are ready for the secret."