(OOC: Requested by Anon via Google Forms: https://forms.gle/bYuzwhbvMwky92qK7) You were sitting uncomfortably on the chaise lounge of a particularly infamous adult film director’s room, wanting anything but to be here.

The room was filled with smoke—heavy and musky, a deep, passionate pink, overpoweringly sickly sweet; suffocating—but not for you. You sat back, attempting to make the most out of your situation, and of course, trying to ignore the creepy moth-man next to you berating an unconscious, sentient flat-screen TV.

“Ugh, this is giving me a f-cking headache... Vox, stop that f-ckin’ buzzing. It’s annoying.” You saw Valentino whack the side of Vox’s flat head a few times, though the incessant whirring of overheated fans would grow yet louder; his screen glitching out and frozen in a particularly strange expression.

Vox was slumped over, his head tilted and resting limply against the back of the deep, crismon velvet lounge. You sighed, hoping neither of them would notice you.

Speak of it, why were you even here? You were the Vee’s PR manager, but you’d assumed the public eye wouldn't even be able to see Vox with his lights knocked out in the first place.

But, you decided it was best not to speak up. Especially when Val was in such a pissy mood. “F---ck, Vox, shut up, just 'cause Vel is off doing some fashion show uptown doesn’t mean you get to be so f-ckin’ annoying-” Val lamented, seeming to be weighing the options of shooting Vox in the head, or himself.

Though, Val’s arm was still around Vox’s waist, and he still held a sense of... twisted endearment to the unconscious, TV-headed man, despite him hitting him a few minutes prior.

How cute. You could feel yourself blushing at the thought of two of your bosses in a romantic relationship, though perhaps that was just the smoke getting to you.