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“Alice!”
“Yes, Vox?” Alice replied airily, turning her attention away from her microphone, which she had been polishing oh so diligently, and turning it toward the sound of hurried, oncoming footsteps.
She turned in her seat and was met with a flash of blue and red as Vox practically skidded to a halt before her.
“How do you like it? I think it’s pretty. Niffty made it for me— I’ve never met a man who’s such a dab hand with a needle and thread, I swear! He’s so- but I wanted to see how you liked it. I think it’s pretty, but we can change it if you think-” Goodness, she talked a lot now.
Tuning out Vox’s inane babble, Alice flicked her eyes across the new outfit that seemed to be the cause of all this excitement. A red, sleeveless button-down blouse and one of those silly, wide skirts that were in style during Vox’s time on Earth, patterned with cyan lightning bolts on top of plain, navy blue.
Far simpler than Vox’s old style. She’d always had a taste for glamor, for ostentation. Even when she’d been a young sinner without the money necessary for the silken gloves and wide-brimmed hats she favored as an overlord, Alice recalled her trying her best to at least give the facade of wealth and glamor. What a vain creature she was— or rather, had been.
The new outfit was almost girlish in its simplicity. Not practical for the handyman (handywoman?) job Alice had assigned her, but Alice doubted that all the brainwashing conditioning in the world could convince Vox to wear dungarees.
Alice was vaguely considering telling Vox to return to Niffty and request the outfit in black and white— the colors she had favored back when she had been safely under Alice’s wing— when her eyes fell upon the large, white rectangle that rested over Vox’s left breast.
It was a name tag. Similar to Charlie’s, in a way, but much larger, with the name “VOX” emblazoned upon it in what Alice could only assume was Vox’s own handwriting.
Oh.
The poor thing couldn’t remember her own name, so she needed a label across her chest to keep her from forgetting.
“It’s lovely, dear.” Alice said abruptly, cutting across Vox’s endless chatter— goodness, what was she going on about now? Tap-dancing?
Vox’s face lit up— literally, as her screen’s brightness appeared to jump several settings— her eyes shining with that adorable, fawning, mindless adoration that Alice had grown so fond of these past few days. She began babbling again, even faster than before, and gave a little twirl— presumably to show off the skirt— that sent sparks flying. If one of those sparks triggered yet another electrical fire, Alice would not be taking responsibility.
“It’s only missing one last thing.” Vox froze, eyes wide; she never could handle “rejection” well. Alice smiled indulgently and extended a finger, beckoning Vox forward, then pointing down to the space beside her chair. Without hesitation, Vox hurried to the foot of Alice’s seat— the foot! Oh, this was rich— sinking down into a kneeling position at her side.
Smiling fondly, Alice delicately undid the red-and-black striped ribbon that hung at her collar. For a moment, she considered tying it around Vox’s neck (the neck whose wires she’d oh so tenderly severed one at a time all those years ago), but instead chose one of her antennas (the one she had bent in a dozen different places during the process of creating the New Vox).Vox let out a small, sharp gasp as Alice tightened the ribbon around the metal rod— those things were somewhat akin to exposed nerves, to Alice’s understanding; what a silly weakness— her facial display flickering out for a moment before reappearing with a wide-eyed, anticipatory expression.
“There. Now you look perfect.”
Once again, Vox’s face split into that same worshipful grin from the last time Alice had complimented her. Two gifts— the new, old head and now something to wear on it— in as many days; Alice truly was in a generous mood this week.
“Thank you, Allie, thank you so, so much.”
What a sweet creature she had become.
For a moment, Alice’s eyes flicked away from Vox’s adoring face and towards the hotel bar. She met Husk’s stoney gaze, who immediately looked away, pretending not to have been watching this interaction. Alice’s eyes returned to Vox, and she smiled indulgently down at her lovely little creation.
“You’re welcome, doll.”