Switching Faster Than the Channels on TV

『 Ich werde mich umbringen.. 』 He's holding his screen in his hands. He can't have one fucking night without having to put a fire out, can he?

Deep breaths. In, out. Ignore the sparking of his own antenna.

『 Verdammte Hölle.. 』 Pinching the bridge of his "nose" is an improvement. 『 Look, like I said, you didn't sign the form, you clearly didn't agree to be here. I don't even know what the fuck is going on with you and-- 』 Another spark of his antenna. 『 --Him. 』

『 This is my building, meaning I have a personal room here. I can take you there, if you'd like, while we go through the security footage to solve this mystery. No strings attached, nothing will happen that you don't allow. Sound fair? 』

Still, Vito gave him a quizzical look, head tilting to the side. But learning that this was the other demon's building and that he hadn't signed any fancy permission forms - wait, it didn't sound like Vito was in trouble, at least. His shoulders relaxed just a bit. "Yeah, actually, but-"

The thought of being kept in a room, alone, suddenly brought an unnerving amount of dread. Something far too familiar without being able to completely explain why. Other than he'd be putting a lot of trust in a complete stranger, in his turf.

Yyyyikes, this is not anything he signed up for. Or them, apparently, because Meta's pretty fucking sure this guy didn't sign the informed consent form.

While the dude's flipping between channels, Meta focuses on getting him sitting upright, leaning that heavy fucking head of his against the nearby couch. Resting it atop the cushion should help, because he sure remembers that helping him in the past.

『 It's a.. 』 Stars, he can't really call this a "business retreat" anymore, can he? 『 ..It's a fucking orgy, dude. 』

『 Which I'm pretty sure you didn't agree to. I've got all the agreement forms, since.. Y'know, I'm running this show. And violating consent isn't exactly my thing.. 』 He holds his hands together, pointing them down at the other. 『 Mind telling me how you even got here? 'Cause I'd like to seal that crack before we have more instances of this. 』

"A WHAT?!" he shouted, immediately sitting up in alarm, broken antennas sparking. His screen filled with static once more, making himself lay back down as he dragged hands down his glass face, practically hyperventilating because none of this was making sense.

He didn't even remember how he GOT here!

Meta had only been passing through, flitting between activities of various natures. (He might be a smidge unstable on his feet, as a result)

..Only to be stopped when he hears something heavy slam into the ground. Thank the stars that his electroreceptors work regardless of how foggy his brain might be, because he can't be responsible for someone's death.

『 Scheiße- 』 He hadn't remembered this guy being invited, but he was here now, and this clearly wasn't a scene this guy was into. The leash and dog treatment was more of Meta's thing, evidently.

In a moment, he's on his knees, clawed hands lifting the other's heavy head off the floor. 『 No clue what your deal is, or even what year you walked out of, but you clearly need some sort of fucking attention. 』

『 Are you at least able to talk? Would make it easier to diagnose how you might've hurt yourself. 』

Still, in this briefest moment, it didn't feel like he was in any immediate danger. Meta's words were parsed through the garbled flipping channels going through his mind, distracting him from what he'd been trying to do in the first place.

"Now, now, none of this is worth working yourself into a tizzy. " His eyes glow red, sinister, sickly. "I was simply speaking to myself, no need to think too hard into the matter!"

Pointedly no longer touching his head, Alastor dusts invisible particles off the man's sweater.

"Ha-heh...okay."

Vox calmed, somewhat. It took a moment to settle his nerves, but watching as Alastor dusted off his sweater from phantom particles, it eases some of the stress in his wires. He let out a quiet sigh, shoulders dropping.

Even with Alastor's sinister glow, Vox couldn't help but feel more at home. He understood the radio demon's company better than anyone else's here. Familiar.

"You don't have to watch me at all! Let me go and I won't be a problem!" Because then he'd be gone! Vamoose! Outta dodge! Why would he want to spend time with a bunch of people stealing his name and badmouthing his best friend, anyway? This party was going to suck!

Maybe...literally, all things considered.

"It truly is a pity– that charlatan has you ensnared so tightly that he's choked out every bit of that fire that made me notice Vox in the first place." He grabs the corner of that old television head, tipping it side to side.

"Entertainment cannot come with blind obedience. But I suppose you never had much of a say, did you?" With that he lets the man go with a hum.

No, none of that sounded quite right. His face turned to brighter static snow as Alastor grabbed the side of his head, a blush creeping in at the closeness. Why - why was he talking about him like there was something wrong with him?