Vox slams his hands on his desk, gritting his digital teeth so hard red pixels form on the left corner of his mouth

"Damn him. That old, washed-up, low-tech, loser, nobody!"

He slammed his fists down again before taking a few short, angry breaths to calm himself down. Vox then broke out into a small fit of smug laughter

"Alastor, Alastor, Alastor. I can't wait to watch you grovel and beg for mercy when I squeeze the life out of those dusty lungs."

You were sat on the couch, taking a few puffs from your cigarette holder and blowing out pink smoke. You couldn't help but smirk as Vox adjusted his tie and turned away from his control console, walking back toward the couch across from where you were seated

"Val. Be a doll and pour me a glass of whatever you're drinking."

Vox gestured a blue claw toward the bottle of bourbon on the coffee table while his other hand wiped away the red pixels on his screen. You give a small chuckle as you watch Vox lean his head back against the couch and grumble to himself, likely something about how much he hated Alastor. The man was obsessed