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Silence was not something that usually led Vox to suspect something was wrong with Alastor. They've gotten a lot better at sitting with each other and not always having to communicate—majority leaning towards Vox’s side, sure, but there are times Alastor breaks silence for his opinion too. Suffice to say that kindred silence had gotten easier over the years together was an understatement, but this wasn't silence-silence.
There was a noticeable static that doesn't come from a pill microphone that would go unnoticed by flesh based eardrums as a simple headache-inducing invisible humming. To Vox, and especially technical lifeforms as even his cameras can pick it up, it was the sound of feedback from the radio waves themselves. If Vox didn't know who in this backstage room for two stars on today's podcast was doing it, with said two stars inside it, he'd best be dead already to not understand.
Vox was sitting on a cushioned sofa that overlooked two stands for makeup and minor mechanical maintenance, dual mirrors, and a corner with a television showing the news mounted on the wall and a decorative radio sat below it in solemn silence. Their wall pager next to the heavy door is silent as nobody disturbs the famous duo without their proper cue for showtime. Alastor was sitting before one such mirror doing his hair with a vase of hellborn roses full of bloom on Vox’s assembly table to his left. His whole back was stiff as a board and his ears flicked with agitation. A real cause for concern.
“Did I… say anything weird? When I called you in, I mean.” Vox seems to kick up in his voice, soft and prodding at a minimum as he sits up straight on the break room couch. “You weren't as upset earlier."
“What ever do you mean? You were perfectly reasonable over the Hotel’s phone line that I'm sure Miss Charlotte is still beaming.” Alastor doesn't turn from the studio grade mirror as he styled his own hair, tone as showman as ever, “You are quite the charmer. And besides, can moods simply change? Maybe. But perhaps the air is just stale from poor ventilation."
Speaking of that incident—it got him quite the mixed reception when he called the Hazbin Hotel, but ultimately it had gotten him some positive reception in the end. While Alastor was still in Rosie's employ and taking care of the Hotel, that did not mean that he had to be stuck within their walls at all hours of the day, but it was few and far between they got to see each other. Yes, Alastor’s area of effect is large, and Rosie doesn't like him slacking—but what the Princess thinks is a concerned friend wanting time with their huffy, disgruntled Host the next day wouldn't hurt anyone! Yeah, Alastor had taken a one point negative hit for the presumption of Vox stepping into his business, but he had made up for that already. A good night out does wonders for old bones, or something.
What Vox didn't understand was the three point negative he seemingly took out of nowhere while he was dealing with Velvette’s sudden firing spree, and was currently trying to play off fishing for information. Fishing was too light a term, so call it closer to weaseling.
〔 𝟔𝟓% ▋〕
Standing up from the couch and walking over, he trains his eyes on the mirror to meet Alastor's eyes with a trained smile on his face. Alastor’s gaze was more easily described as hostile then dangerous than as he looks up at Vox with his hooded eyes, hands helping spread a hair oil throughout his curls as he seemingly iced Vox out.
Looking so good in his three piece uniform and adorably large bowtie, it was almost easy to be swayed by the domestic exterior as the face of damnation and haunting for many.
But never to Vox, just don't tell Alastor that.
Vox closed the verbal distance with a tad more teasing, choosing to believe the Radio Demon on the exterior. “That’s good to know, but… glaring at the decor doesn't make me any less convinced. Is it from a fan of ours?”
A hiss of static much more ancient and horrid on the senses is his immediate answer that he had gotten the subject right at least, especially as Alastor's nose wrinkles like something foul entered his vicinity.
〔 𝟔𝟒%⬇〕
“These are not decor, this is rubbish. No doubt about that. Best to not mind the uncouth.” Alastor’s smile splits at the lips as he keeps up the pleasant facade, crooked in the center was his smile from obviously hiding a snarl.
Vox looks at the flowers now as he takes a step in front of Alastor's line of sight to examine them. They're well cut and some sort of manufactured or Hellborn species of violet roses with hidden teeth at the center, ready to attack pollen gatherers. With the upcoming weather so full of lust they are fanning themselves out like plumage on a peacock, and a note sits tied to the inexpensive vase they come in.
Reading it, he recognized the handwriting and swallowed a thickness in his throat that suddenly formed.
Missed you last night during scripting~
Heard about the next few days from your little pet radio, about all that incoming weather carrying Lust over the next few days, Pentagram City will be getting hotter than ever—you know where to find me when you're done, XOXO VAL
Ah shit, Vox curses as his eyes dart from one extreme to the other. Val and Alastor never truly got along but here lately the two have become worse with their usual cat fights and verbal abuse—Vox is sure they're tethering with stepping on each other's toes and breaching their years-long truce from bloodshed. While he cannot seemingly let Alastor ruin their mutually beneficial alliance with petty drama, he won't allow Valentino to overstep onto the comfort of his dear Alastor.
Vox lets the letter go and it falls back in the vase as he turns on his heels towards Alastor. Having gained the deer sinners immediate attention as he comes over to lean his left arm on his vanity to obscure the potted plants direct line of sight, he has a wire pull it up and off through a loose panelling in the wall used for security. While he's not exactly subtle about it Alastor lets it slide, if he notices, by keeping eye contact with Vox.
Vox tempers his metaphorical heart from beating out of his skin, he’s trained his voice to steady out for a reason. His smile was totally nonchalant and carefree. “Soooo… how are you feeling with the incoming weather?”
That was… something of a topic change, but it worked. Alastor's vitals flattened out, his ears and eyebrows quirked up, and he paused in bewilderment at him. “The weather, Vincent? You're moving into the weather?”
“You reported on it, Al, the storms are going to be skin-deep with a Heat Wave and pollen that'll affect all Hellborn lifeforms. Are you gonna get holded up at the Hotel with the Princess or,” He keeps them on the up-and-up, even sweetens the deal, “We could watch some previously unfinished film list, if you're off for the next few days.”
"Hm. You and me?" Properly enticed and away from the direct outlet for his ire, Alastor is much more agreeable and honeyed.
Just a little more convincing, his voice practically sang.
“Just you and me. Like it should be,” he knows better than to presume ownership, so he adjusts his tie for a calculated pause, “because I'm willing to move onto the French listings, starting with A Trip to the Moon. If you're up for joining me.”
〔 𝟔𝟔%⬆〕
“Oh." Alastor actually sounded disappointed. "A movie night, I definitely could spare at least one afternoon.”
Disappointed? Disappointed?! Did Vox hear that right? Had he gotten something wrong in their tone somewhere or was this just an unfortunate side effect of Valentino messing with his boy? Alastor had found himself stepping into the future with slightly more up-to-date entertainment in silent movies from his own era, and while not Vox’s cup of tea they brought a new light to Alastor's eyes. If any form of media had that man clutching at Vox’s plush sharks and resting himself across his couch, feet using Vox as a resting place, he'd watch it a million times over!
“O, Oh! Have you seen it before? We can change it if you'd like!" Vox is on the back foot, and he didn't like that. “I haven't watched a second of it. Fresh eyes, just for you!"
Le Voyage dans la Lune you were his lifeline right now, don't fuck this up! Maybe he heard bad things about it, maybe he was bored of them? That would be news to Vox. Dissatisfied with plot or certain actors he probably knew in life was common, sure, but never disappointed. Was this about Vox?
“Like you'd start without me with how you behave. You don't even watch the movies most of the time we've been together.” Alastor stabilized his tone to throw humor at him. “Is this a plot to not be alone in that foul weather?”
No, this was about getting you comfortable and enjoying your willing presence you give me, and getting you out of that shabby Hotel! Also to watch sci-fi for once, maybe he might like… yeah, no, still not his cup of tea. He missed holding this fuckers hand while dealing with old tapes, because those are expensive and slowly aging past even their prime in Hell, and he missed having a direct line of sight for his affection meter. He wanted to take this man out to eat and give him personalized roses, all while also being the only apple in Alastor's eyes.
He wanted a lot of things since he was rejected at that bar so long ago, but that's why he has the affection chip within Alastor’s neck to assist him—persistence hasn't not paid him back yet, it's just such an easily slippery slope.
That's right, it'll just be them. As it should be.
“That, and is there anyone else I'd rather spend it with?” Vox gives a shimmy to his shoulders, keeping the good mood going.
“Is there, Vox?” Alastor’s tone is unreadable with his eyes closed. He'd closed them to properly comb out his hair and dab at the loose oil on his face, nearly hiding his face.
"Huh?” Vox may have gotten distracted, but he's not lost. Even if he keeps his voice up for the charade, he honestly lets his thoughts come out. “Oh. No. There is nobody I’d go out of the way for like this, our time is special.”
Alastor's darkened eyes change from staring into Vox’s image in the mirror beside him to closing his eyes. Alastor lets go of his hair to wipe his hands with a steady tone, "... Let's get ready, Vox.”
"Already ready for us, Alastor.” Vox is honestly done with his outfit, so his chest is puffed out in pride as he watches Alastor’s hands work.
And it was true, as Vox had already gotten his sweater and undershirt ironed and steamed before he'd even stepped out into his tower. They may only be going to do their podcast together, but the Radio Demon having anyone in less than perfect stature beside him was a high form of insult. That, and Alastor seemed to enjoy the baggier look to him, so being a bit of eye candy couldn't hurt.
Alastor’s jaw unclenched as he quietly confirmed, "Yes. Just ‘for us’.”