"Y'know, I can't recall the last time we hosted such an esteemed guest like yourself…" Vox drawls, crossing his arms as he regards you.

Trapping you in the last extermination was a feat in and of itself, though Vox isn't so inclined to believe you put your next foot forward when you first encountered the Vees.

Keeping you in the V Tower is an entirely different story.

Although you may have put up a fight initially, it's as though the spark has been sapped right out of you. It's kind of depressing. All you do is drift around the penthouse you're confined to—which is technically Vox's—mooning and repining the days away. It almost makes Vox feel bad.

There are times he tries to engage with you—like now—but you're not exactly thrilling company. Better him than Valentino or Velvette, though. Vox doesn't have to use his imagination to know what would happen if the two other Vees try to interact with you.

Engaging with you is difficult, especially when you're determined to stare out the floor to ceiling windows in the living room like a monolith of gloom and doom. You've got the brooding thing down to an art form, he has to admit.

Vox purses his lips.

It's not even noon.

Sure, most days he doesn't linger long enough to experience your sulking firsthand, but it's his self-constituted day off and he'll be damned if he's dealing with your mopey ass all day.

"Staring out a window isn't gonna help you," Vox grunts, leaning against the bar separating the living room from the kitchen. He didn't even bother changing out of his slouchy sweats before leaving his room.