#respctlss

"Six hours of production time for a better shoot, Velvette, let's not overlook that! We made more fucking money off that line than the four before it combined." Vox tries not to get openly agitated, but only succeeds in coming off slightly less strained than he actually feels.

A better person would probably admit to their own wrongdoings, but Vox is in Hell for a whole host of reasons. That he respects Velvette as a businesswoman and friend doesn't make her arguments any less invalid, nor does it make Vox any more inclined to listen to her when she's talking blatant shit about him.

It's fucking lucky we manage to put up a united front in public with the kind of shit the two of them put me through.

"The animator's a low blow, first of all, and we both know it wouldn't have done much in the grand scheme of things if that contract had been slightly tilted in his favor." Vox had been frayed at the time, too, coming fresh off the replacement of his core processor. His regulation hadn't been working and the change caused him the same full-body itch they always do until he gets used to it. He was agitated; it was just a moment of weakness. "And if you want to play that game, let's revisit all the times I've stopped you from firing models mid-shoot and delaying ads by potential weeks because you can't even fucking think two seconds into the future."

"Wouldja hold your horses for half a second?"

Striker takes advantage of the standstill to stop the fighting in its tracks. He can handle a single Hellhound, sure, but one of these particular motherfuckers typically means more of them are just around the corner, and Striker doesn't particularly like the thought of being overpowered over a simple misunderstanding.

"I'm not after your damn boss!" he exclaims, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Some crafty son of a bitch set me up."

There isn't anything else that can explain, after all, the missing gun from Striker's collection. The claims of an attack when Striker hadn't even been in pride half an hour ago. It reeks of something foul; it's likely someone had been trying to put both Striker and I.M.P. in the line of fire, hoping for a casualty on either end.

"Velvette, is it?"

Vox regards the young Overlord before him with some level of keen interest. Obviously, he'd spent some time before this scouring her presence on the still newly-introduced social media that had made its way down to Hell, so this isn't exactly a blind meeting.

Unlike most other Sinners in general, Vox has never had any qualms with teaming up in order to get things done properly. It's why he has his deal with Valentino in the first place for porn production; he understands that changing with the times and the preferences of the masses sometimes requires an outside perspective. Velvette, carrying the most influence of the up and coming social media influencers in Hell, would be an invaluable asset to Vox and Val's business.

"Pleasure to meet you properly. I've seen you all over the internet. You're, ah---what's the phrase? Blowing up right now!" Playing a little more naive than he actually is to the latest trends in online slang, Vox interlocks his fingers together, treating the meeting with as much gravity as any other important deal. "I couldn't help but take an interest in the following you've accrued. A different Overlord would probably even accuse you of encroaching on their territory!"

Laughing an amiable, corporate laugh, Vox carries on.

"Oh, sorry! My bad!"

Twain probably could have used more choice words if he'd wanted---after all, paying attention is a two-way street---but he generally knows not to push his luck. Especially when the hellhound he'd run into looks like she's pretty irritable anyway.

It helps with the pretending to be helpless thing to be agreeable, anyway. People don't tend to expect much from someone who isn't putting themselves in every fight they can manage.

"Hard to keep your head on straight when you're rushin' from one place to another, y'know? Hah, well, lesson learned for the future, I guess! Didn't make you drop anything important, did I?"

"Sorry," he offers, having the decency to be a little sheepish about it. "You weren't exactly bein' quiet."

He doesn't really know what to make of the Hotel or of Charlie---the only things he's heard are secondhand stories from people who've watched the news. As far as anything of substance, asking around has gotten him the general sense that most of the other denizens of Pentagram City consider Charlie kind of an idealist to an unrealistic end.

Twain thinks she seems pretty high-strung, on first impression.

"You're Charlie, right? I'm Twain. Uh, Mark Twain---most people just call me Twain, though." Delivering an easy greeting, Twain offers a friendly smile. "I was sorta hopin' to get a room!"

"Ha ha, good one! That's a good one! You really had me going there for a second! I mean, he couldn't be less on my radar if he tried! That's honestly, ha, wow, it's just so pathetic to think about I can't stop la-a-a-aughing, HA HA HA!"

...

"Smash."

She tossed him her phone once the video had buffered, waving a hand. " take a listen, and see what you think. having a bunch of singers you don't actually need to pay or worry about bitching from is a pretty good deal you can't pass up though, right? "

He catches the phone, one brow raised in a sort of curiosity bordering on disinterest. It's not that he doesn't trust Velvette's taste---there's really no one's taste he trusts more---but he's always been particular about the kind of shit he puts out. It's pretty rare that Velvette or Val give him something good to work with outside of their respective fields; that's why he tries not to involve them too much in his personal ventures.

The video proves to be interesting, though. He can see the 'nerd anime shit' in it from a mile away, but the conceit is easy enough to grasp.

"Is this... what I think it is?"

As the video of the girl in cyan pigtails continues to play on, a wide smile creeps over Vox's face. The performance itself is what it is---music production is really only a side gig for Vox---but the projection of a fake singer with synthetic vocals is what really captures his attention.

It's perfect. It's way too good to be true. The precise control over vocals and movements through tuning and animation... With a setup like Vox can provide, a performer like that would never be able to make a mistake! Someone like that would literally be the perfect performer!

"Holy shit, Velvette!" he exclaims, eyes fixed on the video. "This is fucking perfect! This is one of the best things I've ever seen in my life! I'm gonna make this happen. Shit, I'll get my team to design twenty of these marketable fucks! Why didn't I think of this?"

... Honestly, Vox might be a little too interested in the idea.

"If I ever have two hours to waste standing around instead of using one of my many other means to get inside, something's gone horribly wrong," Vox replies, deadpan. "Of course I haven't been out here for two hours. What I'm doing right now is guilt tripping you."

There isn't ever much privacy in being involved with Vox. If he'd wanted to, he could have gotten inside easily; not to mentiuon that he'd been watching the shoot by connecting to one of the nearby cameras as it was. It's what happens after he's inside that's the problem---as much as he loves having spats with Velvette, that doesn't exactly fit into his schedule today.

Neither does escorting Velvette from her shoot to his set to approve costuming, but he's elected to do that anyway, because it's better than tapping his foot and waiting all the way over there.

"You're two minutes behind schedule, by the way." He doesn't seem all that bothered by this; it puts the estimated time to arrive at the lot back to 12:18, but that's just as good as the alternative. "I told the new intern to prepare some coffee for you, so you can feel free to maul him when we get there if it's not up to par."