#simp!!!!

Me:

It was sweet, and a little bit bitter. The coffee, not the response if he wanted to admit that to himself. To even catch the eyes of the Radio Demon is a feat. To be in the company of the infamous rising star of their hellish generation is a gift. Their eyes catch for a moment, and it's Vox who pulls away after a beat of silence, a laughing fit that seizes him over not expecting such a nonchalant comment for such a bold question. He was jesting after all.

➤ ❛ 𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝, 𝚁𝚎𝚍. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔! 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝? ❜ The question is more rhetorical than an actual need. He knows Alastor most likely won't elaborate. But he won't stop trying when every opportunity arises. As long as they were both having fun.

Taking a sip of his beverage, Vox taps the paper cup in his hand as he looks over the list on his notepad. There's not much to do on his end today and unless his smiley friend tells him to actually go away, he's sticking close. There's not many he'd consider close friends and even Alastor, considering the campfire tales he's heard — the Radio Demon is the closest that he's got at the moment that he'd be willing to trust. Minus the fact that every time he took a glance, he wondered what it felt like running his claws through their hair. Holy shit, Vox. Concentrate.