#countlessrealities

@countlessrealities

"I don't want to drink with you today, mon cher," Alastor said, reaching out to take the bottles from the other and disappear them into the darkness. Of course he was going to steal Vox's rye for the bar.

Shoulders tensed. "Great, thanks for announcing it to all of Hell, Vel. You know, if you paid more attention, you'd know I was trying to warn our employees."

[[ from Velvette...and she's totally drunk xD Chance meeting at a club mayhaps? ]]

"Bitch, go home you're so drunk."

Vaggie snorted as she crossed her legs on the bar stool she was currently upon, her angle bobbing to the loud beat of the music playing all around them. She'd snort at the pretty Overlord before making a 'cut off' gesture to the bartender, then she'd shrivel around on her stool to lightly nudge her foot to the Diva Queen before her.

In the ever-present chaotic mess of Hell, things rarely stayed the same. If you couldn’t adapt, you’d get left behind in the dust. Those were some of the words Vox had thrown at him back when they first crossed paths. Val let the thought roll around in his head as he moved down the long hallway, his heels clicking sharply against the polished floor with every step.

He adjusted the fur collar of his coat, eyes half focused on the glowing screens lining the walls that flickered with distant broadcasts. Velvette was probably his best friend in this whole rotten pit, unlike Vox things with that screen headed bastard always got so damn complicated. The man’s nonstop obsession with that deer who wouldn’t even spit in his direction was exhausting Alastor this, Alastor that. It grated on the nerves after a while.

With Velvette, everything stayed simple. They rarely butted heads, and when they did, it never turned as ugly as it could with Vox. That was probably why they clicked so well. Both of them lived for fashion, loved showing off their wealth and status to every pathetic sinner beneath them. What was the point of holding all this power if you couldn’t rub it in their faces?

Besides, he had known Velvette longer than Vox anyway. Their lines of work overlapped perfectly he only ever chased the finest beauties, and if they could handle the bedroom, they could usually strut a runway too.

They swapped employees all the time. If one of Velvette’s models wasn’t cutting it, she’d just ship them straight over to him. You’d think a fashion studio would be safer than a porno set. You’d be dead wrong, just like so many of her workers had learned the hard way. The woman didn’t play around when it came to her craft. She kept them on an incredibly tight leash, and if they failed to hit her sky high standards, odds were they’d need a body bag for whatever was left.

Work was one of the reasons he was dropping by now. They hadn’t seen each other in over a week, and they were cooking up one of her newest potions together. The last extermination had hit their crews especially hard. They’d lost a good bunch of employees, and what better way to pull in fresh meat than to hook them on something so addictive they’d have to keep coming back to Vees territory to get it?

Pushing open the heavy door with one gloved hand, he stepped into the warmly lit room, the scent of burning herbs and expensive perfume hitting him immediately. Velvette was already bent over her large cauldron in the center, stirring with focused movements while colorful vapors rose in twisting patterns. A wide smile pulled at his lips as he took in the scene, his multiple arms shifting slightly with the motion. He shrugged off his long jacket in a fluid sweep and draped it across the back of her velvet couch, the fabric settling with a soft thud.

Vox, grumbling to himself: "I can think of other words that fit a lot more than 'cute'...."

It had recently come to his attention, truly life changing realization, that Vox had been crushing on him all this time. A ridiculous notion, but it made so much sense. Not only this, but there was surprisingly a mutual sexual attraction. Alastor was a bit startled but also curious. The other overlorrd still was interested, atleast that was it sounded like with their conversation they had not too long ago.

But where to go from here? How was he even supposed to ask? Maybe a gift. Yes, present him with a gift during the sinsmas party the overlords and upper sinners of hell were throwing. He wasn't specifically invited but he was an overlord, he could attend without any fuss.

The sinsmas party was pretty nice when he arrived but he didn't want to seem like he was just here to see Vox. So he mingled a bit and helped himself to some eggnog and drinks until Vox finally noticed him. The stag smiled and made a gesture for the other to follow him into another room where there weren't many people. When the television overlord joined him he held out his hands and a perfectly wrapped present appeared, blue wrapping paper with snowflakes with a red bow.

"This is for you, Vox. Merry Sinsmas."

One would think that the radio demon, the alleged nemesis of the media overlord, would be walking around the hotel crowing in victory. After all, Vox's ratings have plummeted, his team broken, and now he's reduced to staying at the Hazbin Hotel.

But behind the demon's carefully crafted smile lay only grief.

He once fled from Vox out of fear, and then stayed away thinking it was all for the best. How foolish. How naïve. What they had couldn't fizzle out cleanly. The embers merely piled up on each other until they roared to life again.

He roughly exhaled, straightening the lapels of his coat with his free hand. He had no idea how to make this right. He had no idea if he even could.

But he could try... something. Anything.