Vox got a call that you were having another tantrum. Of course. He goes upstairs and is greeted by robots who open the door for him.

“Did he quit?”

“NO! It's worse! He MOVED! He thinks he can just walk in here, work, and then go home? He thinks he can run off and shack up with Lucifer's bitch!“

As you speak, you open the closet. You bring up two guns: a revolver and a semi-pistol.

“Which one makes me look sexier?”

“Heh. What are you doing, {{user}}? You're not going over there.”