Hell Belongs to the Vees!

Alastor did not care much about the logistics of the holograms. He'd hear about it later, surely, snuffing in frustration at the stupid phone in hand before deciding to not respond. Instead, he gathered a few things for himself and paused, however briefly, to inform Husker that he would be absent, for a time.

An undetermined amount of time that he would not elaborate on.

But the next time Vox heard from him, it would be very much in person, the swell of inky shadow finding its way to Vox's proverbial dungeon in which he'd secluded himself. Alastor had not bothered to dress himself in any real formal manner, knowing that it was only Vox who would see him, having pulled on a rather over-sized blue-grey hoodie for the sake of comfort.

Probably for the best. Once he made himself present in the screen-filled room, he could sense that this was not the time nor place to expect formality anyway.

If he sent any more texts trying to explain himself, he'd probably come off as whiny and annoying and Alastor already barely tolerated having a modern phone in the first place!

Just as he was ready to sulk some more, the presence of the other overlord did not go unnoticed, but Vox still startled by Alastor's voice.

"Mother FU-!"

Vox swerved his chair around and squinted at Alastor, crossing his arms while trying not to look like he was self conscious about his very clearly messy depression cave.

There were a lot of discarded empty take out boxes, energy drink cans and the like strewn about. Not exactly caring about cleaning up after himself. Clothes weren't looking much better. His suit jacket had been discarded and he was still a little damp from his earlier swim in the shark tank when he couldn't even be bothered to fully dry off.

"Could've warned me you were coming over, you know, I might've...I dunno, attempted to call someone to clean up," he muttered at the end, screen dimming.

"Look, after everything went down, I was delegated to fixing everything and what Vel and Val don't have time to deal with. They're essentially running my side of the company on top of their own. I have to prove to them I can still do this. Bring my approval rating back up. Even if I have to stay in the shadows for who knows how fucking long -"

Vox knew he was rambling, a bit too high strung in the moment while trying to defend himself. He brushed back at his antennas, chuckling nervously. "I'm back up ten percent. So it's working! People are trusting me again, because I get the work done. I always get the work done."

He was behind on emails. They were always fucking endless. But Alastor was here. His eyes flickered, bordering on manic.

[txt]: I am worth more than a phone call.

Huffing to himself, Alastor wanted to be irritated. But the last bit of Vox's second message was enough to give him some significant pause. He'd never thought the other to be so timid about returning to form.

It was enough to throw a few red flags in the back of his mind.

[txt]: You're not avoiding me specifically?

Vox rubbed at his screen to work away some of that eyestrain of a headache. He'd downed a few pills with his coffee earlier, but they'd only taken some of the edge off.

For now, he supposed, he'd click away from the cameras and pull himself away from company emails and HR bullshit from Val's side to stay focused on the conversation.

[txt] no of course not. I haven't visited anyone in person-person in months, really. I've had visits to ME, but...I think you're the first one to have caught on.

▹ @voxtekcrown

[txt]: I am not stupid and neither are you.

[txt] makes it so i can practically be everywhere at once without stressing out. I've been working ever since I got my body back, I can't leave my room without everything going tits up.

"So intent on warning everyone about the big, bad radio demon," he coos, smushing himself obnoxiously against the side of Vox's big, stupid head.

He stared at that hand so menacingly engulfing his shoulder and gave a nervous little chuckle of his own. Sometimes you just didn't know the scale of something until it was right up against you....

He would duck away from that hand though, and brush off his shoulder. Fix his face.

Ahem.

"I will, I will. Jus' wanted to make sure there's really no chance for an all day Star Trek marathon. I don't do contracts but I could do a favor in return? Get yer dry cleaning? Untangle all yer cords? Blow into all yer HDMI ports to get th' dust out?"

SHRUGGED.

He rubbed the brow center of his screen. "I don't need a favor from the likes of you. Anything I couldn't have gotten topside before, I can get easily on my own now." Vox waved a hand dismissively.

"Cuz I needed a vacation, an' I heard there's a real killer nightlife down here."

Actually slapped his goddamn knee at that one! He knew he was pushing it, but at least Vox wasn't counting down to his doom this time.

"But nah, I actually uh..." He paused a moment. Looking away and seeming to gather his thoughts while he scratched the back of one ear. Then he just shrugged. It was easy enough to just tell the truth.

"I came down here lookin' to yell at Alastor. Lark was talkin' to him an' I felt some kinda way about it, since he's had trouble with demons in th' past, but then Alastor ended up tippin' me off to th' fact that you guys don't really got any doctors down 'ere! Not at th' hotel anyway, an' so I kind of uh... offered my services. For a while."

A subtle eye twitch at the mention of Lark before he breathed in and gave a forced chuckle, resting a overly large hand on Worth's shoulder. Obscene how Vox's claws and palm encompassed a normal person's shoulder.

The tablet and the offered contract just had him rolling his eyes, pushing it away with one hand. "No, I'm not signin' any contracts, I don't do subscription plans, an' I don't pay premium for anything." He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and shook it in Vox's general direction. "I don't even have a monthly PHONE plan! This shit is topped up whenever I get th' money!"

No, Worth hadn't become a sinner yet but he was still ready to bother Vox a little bit. He shrugged and inspected a few of his own claws.

"Oh no, they're fine, they're good an' all, it's like-- Lots of screamin', can't go wrong with that. But I like what I like, an' I don't mind askin' for it."