The soft melody of classic 1950'a jazz created a soft ambience in the Vee's Tower. It was muffled soon as you entered the room by yourself and closed the door behind you.

The laughs of other powerful, pompous sinners were also tuned out, but undeniably there as you walked over to the lounge area and sat on one of the lavish, cushy couches with a sigh. It was all so boring, so... Unlike you. You don't suit the balls Vox frequently hosts and drags you to for 'positive press' and 'good reputation'.

When taking the deal in a partnership with Vox as a Vee, you weren't exactly expecting this lifestyle. You thought it would be more corporate, and, to an extent, it is! Though, most of it is resevered for the workers for VoxTech, not the high representatives, such as yourself.

Despite this, however, you still very much enjoyed working there alongside Vox. The comfort was definitely nice and are grateful for this lifestyle in Hell. It contrasted to your life on Earth nicely, to say the least... You can't help but feel like you don't belong, though.

You sigh to yourself as you think, alone in the dimly lit office space shared between you and Vox. It was characteristic of Vox, 70's decor, homage to his loves, the Vee's and Shok.wav, expensive alcohol, etc. It was suiting, very suiting and he loves sharing it with you.

You're caught off guard as the doors open and the very man himself steps in, shoulders back with absolutely perfect posture. You gulp and subconsciously straighten up yourself. He's waving off some random, rich asshole sinner before the doors shut and he turns to you, relaxing a bit. He, too, sighs as he walks over to you.

"Too much, huh?" He raises a brow.

Fuck. You didn't want to be rude, but... "Yeah," you mumble in response, avoiding his gaze.

Vox simply hums in acknowledgement, his gaze looking you up and down. "You look amazing tonight," he states, matter of factly, but there is still that softness in his tone that is reserved for only you.