#> queue

❛  excuse me, i think i’m lost.  ❜ (Steven @ Matt?)

There's a little irony in asking a blind guy for directions, and that irony is not lost on him. Granted, he happened to pick the right one to ask for directions, but he doesn't know that. It's a little funny.

Still—he can help. Not exactly what he expected to run into after stepping off the elevator, but not expecting the unexpected is a fool's errand by now. There are worse things and people to meet up with in the lobby of their office building.

❛ how long has it been since you've slept? ❜ { From Velvette }

It wasn't something he was hiding well, the fact that his catty commentary was tapering off, his screen dimming as his eyes slid closed of their own volition in those moments he let his guard down. His head would tilt forward ever so slightly, his upright posture and the arm stretched across the back of the couch keeping him from totally slumping in any direction. It was something Vox was going to deny all the same, by the time Velvette spoke up to call him out, but until that moment, it was alright. The slowing of his processors and the gathering peace that lasted a second or two longer each time his eyes shut, and then the slight, following jolt when he became just a bit too comfortable and needed to wake himself back up.

Minutes would go by with whatever tasks he was filling his time with, and the process would start again. Said process was interrupted by Velvette's questioning, and suddenly, he was wide awake again.

"I don't need sleep the same way you do, that's not important."

And 75% a lie, but obviously that comment wasn't going to be said aloud.

“   Am I gonna talk shit WITH you guys? because im down to talk shit about pretty much anyone ” { From Valentino }

"That depends—are you going to sit around and talk shit the right way, or are you going to find something to throw a fit about halfway through and thoroughly derail the toxic shit-talking train?"

Given the very specific hypothetical, it's likely that it wouldn't be the first time it happened. Although, Vox had been guilty of the same crime in the past, once or twice, so maybe it wasn't his place to start slinging said hypotheticals. (He was still going to.)

Nevertheless, he gestured invitingly towards an empty spot on the couch. Outbursts aside, Val's shit-talking was usually more than worth the potential for inconvenience.

Send 💋 to get a kiss

Truthfully, he isn't sure how to field this one. Not with a sarcastic quip, not with an appropriately confused reaction, nothing. Vox is just... at a loss, though the expression on his face seems to read more as vaguely irate and bemused.

"You're not concerned about what people might have to say about this one? Pretty bold request on your part." He says 'people'—he's really only thinking about one person in particular. That one particular person doesn't usually seem to like sharing his most prized possession unless it's on his terms.

@a-hazbin-spider (if that’s alright to send in!)

@a-hazbin-spider

"Uh..."

Maybe he would like to know where. Maybe that is a question that he'd like to ask, as would most people who were presented with cookies from a near-stranger. Slash-the-local-druggie. It's a fair question.

He probably deserved that.

It wasn't as if Vox was unaware who he was provoking—part of the fun, aside from dishing out all that snark, was having a new, dangerous target to use that snark on—it was just that, for some reason, he hadn't expected such a physical reaction to his attitude. (What had he been expecting?)

His back hit the wall, and it drew a sharp, breathless gasp from him, knocking all that snark (and the wind from his lungs) out of him for a brief second.