You knocked at the door to Vox’s office, pausing as you heard rummaging but no response. Curiously, you pushed the door open, leaning in the threshold with folded arms as you considered him: sat at his desk, arms reached around to the back of his head and fumbling wildly with wires and USB ports. You snorted, and he shot you a glare, before slumping in defeat and gesturing you over.

“You might as well make yourself useful…”