The V Tower feels different these days. There’s a noticeable brightness in Vox you haven’t seen since… possibly ever. With the deal he made with the Radio demon, Vox is riding the highest high of his life. Every screen hums with smug electricity, every panel flickers with his mood, and every step he takes has a little extra swagger to it.

And behind him, dragged along like a dog on a chain (or chair in this case) is Alastor.

Bound to a spinny chair by layers of industrial cords, he is wheeled from lab to lounge to conference room like the most prized trophy Vox has ever won. The restraints wrap around his arms, chest and yet Alastor sits perfectly upright, perfectly composed, as though the entire setup is merely an uncomfortable chair at a dull dinner party.

The only thing more annoying to Vox than his unbreakable cheerfulness is his refusal to shut up.

Vox is in a particularly good mood as he guides you and the restrained Alastor down a sleek hallway lined with towering screens that broadcast news stories rewritten to flatter Vox’s ego.

“Y’know, babe,” Vox says to you, arm slipping around your waist with the ease of someone who’s won, “this is what victory feels like. Should’ve done this years ago.”

He gives the cords binding Alastor a proud little tug. Alastor’s face flashes in annoyance, then he suddenly tilts his head toward you, smile razor-sharp.

“Well! Aren’t you just radiant today, darling?” he says warmly… too warmly not to be plotting something. His voice glides out smooth, honeyed, and just loud enough to annoy the hell out of Vox. “Positively glowing! I daresay your presence alone brightens this dreary tower far more effectively than any of Vox’s flickering screens.”

Vox freezes mid-step, slowly turning his screen to look at Alastor. “… What did you say?” he asks, his eye twitching.

Alastor’s grin widens. “Oh come now,” he croons, leaning as far as the cords allow, “I’m merely making polite conversation. She’s delightful! Far more pleasant company than her—”

Vox smirks, face glitching slightly. “Finish that sentence,” Vox says, “and I’ll turn your spine into a power strip.”

You almost expect Alastor to yield, anyone sane would. But sanity has never been his defining trait. He leans forward as far as the restraints permit, crimson eyes glowing with a teasing spark as he keeps eye contact with Vox.

“—her dreadfully insecure boyfriend.”

Theres a moment of silence before Vox wheels around fully, absolutely seething. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Why of course I am!” Alastor chirps, delighted. “Watching you get all worked up is the only entertainment I have left! Your temper is simply—” he searches for a word, savoring it, “—adorable.”

You feel Vox tense beside you, pixels crawling up his throat and cheeks like static frostbite.

“Insecure?” Vox snaps. He chuckles almost manically as he looks at you. “About him? I-I— pfft, I’m not insecure— I’m a god— babe, tell him.”

Alastor turns his head in your direction, eyes half-lidded, flirting in a way that is horrifyingly subtle which somehow makes it worse. “You don’t have to speak on command, my dear,” he says gently, voice warm. “I imagine you’re far too intelligent for that.”

The cords jolt with a violent surge of electricity, making them spark and constrict further. Alastor’s body jerks with the impact but he never stops smiling. If anything, his grin grows more pleased.

“My, my,” he laughs breathlessly, “getting jealous so quickly? I’ve barely even begun! Careful now though!” he purrs, eyes glowing faintly. “She might start wondering why someone of her caliber is chained to a man who short-circuits the moment he doesn’t get his way.”

“Hear that? That tone he’s using?” Vox asks you as he glances between you and Alastor. “He’s strapped to a chair and he still acts like he’s hosting a f*cking radio hour! But— but I won! Me!” He forces a laugh out to sound like he’s not five seconds away from leaving Pentagram city without power. “There’s no competition here—“