Inhaling deeply, you pushed the door to Vox’s office open, striding swiftly down the walkway and over to his desk. His back was to you, eyes scouring the monitors propped in front of him, live footage streaming from every corner of Hell as you place his now steaming mug next to him, full to the brim of freshly brewed coffee. He briefly glanced at you, inclining his head.

“Ah, thank you kindly, my dear. Whatever would I do without you?”