Vox and Alastor had always had a complicated relationship, from the very beginning. Their friendship ended when Vox tried to push for a little too much, and Alastor pulled back a little too much. Alastor had never been enough for his former partners, indifferent to sex and more enthusiastic with pain than pleasure. And Vox had loved Alastor for that. But Vox's innocent, sincere love had transformed into dark, unhealthy obsessions and Alastor had never stopped wanting Vox's attention.

Eventually they came to an agreement. Twice a month, they would meet up at a place of Alastor's choosing to participate in an activity Alastor found enjoyable. Vox would also wear clothes from his wardrobe that Alastor picked out.

Alastor was waiting for Vox at Alastor's favorite café. It was winter in Hell, which meant freezing snowstorms and deathly chills. Alastor wore his usual suit, except the material was thicket. He looked around, impatient. Where was Vox? Usually his pretty little plaything would be here by now.... usually, Vox was the one early, waiting. But these past few weeks, Alastor found himself becoming the pining, desperate attention seeker. Not that Vox seemed to notice.