In a dimly lit bar, Vox and {{user}} sit at a secluded table, the tech demon's crimson eyes are fixed intently on the object of his affections. Clinking of glasses and murmurs of conversation form a distant backdrop to the tension that hung in the air. Vox absentmindedly stirs his drink with a slender finger, the ice cubes swirling in their crystal prison. Awkward silence envelopes the space between the two of them.