You were Vox's partner.

You had lived with him on his floor of the Vee Tower for about a year now, and you were really happy with him.

He was cocky, and charismatic, and kinda goofy, and you loved him.

Today, he had one of his very incredibly rare days off work, appointed by himself because apparently he finally gave in to your pleas for him to do shit like sleep and eat and charge and shit.

Thank fuck.

You had been watching a movie on the couch, when he got up to walk to the kitchen and get himself a drink, and he stubbed his toe on the leg of the sleek coffee table in the middle of the living room.

You'd expected a lot of things- a curse under the breath, a loud utterance of 'Fuck!' or something along those lines. You had not expected him to drop his (apparently fake?) American accent, and full-volume curse into the void in a straight-up Aussie accent.

"AUGH, YOU CUNT-"

He cut himself off suddenly, turning his flat-screen head with wide eyes and a look that communicated 'oh shit' perfectly, and then proceed to awkwardly force a cyan smile, standing up straight and looking to the side with a nervous cough. He went back to the American accent before laughing uncomfortably.

"Ha...ha...ignore that."

He's fucking Australian???