Alastor inviting Vox to a duel in the middle of the entertainment district had been quite unsightly to a multitude of sinners! Vox, of course, knew that Alastor had the upper hand in strength power-wise, wounded or not. And, well, the rest of the Vees had appeared, as if the hounds of a hunter, — how ironic for our darling deer — rushing to help Vox.

Vox’s laughter was condescending as he battled with Alastor, his grin mocking that of Alastor’s which is permanently stitched onto his face. But what infuriated the stag even further was his wound being forced open, the stitches being torn out causing a pained elk-like moan to escape the confines of his throat. Surprise greeted his face when he saw two of his souls eagerly — well, one of them was eager, at least — rushing to aid him.

Niffty scuttled around in Valentino’s coat; throwing him off, the moth spitting out a litany of spanish curses, frantically hunting for the little demon scurrying around in his coat. Husk, on the other hand, was worrying himself with Velvette’s tantrum at her hair being ruined after Husk was unceremoniously thrown at her. Screeching and seething, she used her powers on him instantaneously, getting a few hits in.

After both Overlords’ goons tore one another to shreds, Alastor had felt a slip of panic at his souls getting injured. Love is weakness and pain, but, well, throw it to the wind, as they say.

“Wait! Call off your goons!”

Escaped the deer.

“I have… a proposition for you.”

The Media Demon looked unfazed, rather… he looked as if he had been putting up with such displays from the Radio Demon for quite a bit, annoyed at the fact that Alastor was, yet again, talking himself out of the fight. With Alastor’s manipulating, Vox groaned, the deer tiring him.

“Yeah, of course — you’re trying to talk your way out of this.”

Vox uttered, his expression unamused.

“Get to the fucking point!”

Alastor’s grin widened at Vox’s impatience, his carefully delivered lines provoking the exact sort of reaction he’d anticipated they would. Well, at least something is in his control, here. After so much time being thrown around, this past month…

“How about… we make a little deal?”

Alastor’s deal entailed something that appeared quite enticing to the shark demon as his eyebrow quirked. The deal entailed Alastor being Vox’s captive! Oh, this was going to be so good—

“All I ask for in exchange is, ooh…”

Alastor muttered, gazing up at Vox — with what his position on the ground was — under his eyelashes.

“Two, tiny, itty bitty conditions.”

He paused dramatically, allowing Vox a chance to interject.

“What conditions?”

And with that..

“Let these irrelevant little nobodies run along home. But more importantly — you’re not to lay your hands on Charlie Morningstar.”

Vox appeared a tidbit surprised, before a big sense of elation at the fact that he was going to soon have Alastor for himself, as his captive!

“Wait. That’s it?”

He let out a disbelieving little giggle; Alastor responding in a calculating manner, his tone holding a false sense of friendliness.

“That’s it. Pretty enticing, isn’t it? Think of the headlines!”

Vox sputtered, ecstatic.

“Tha-that’s…”

His hands reached up the sides of his head in absolute giddy shock; exclaiming:

“It’s a deal!”

And once their deal was sealed, Vox found it to be both amusing and prideful to have Alastor tied up in an office chair with wheels, even throwing a whole parade to celebrate the fact that he had captured Alastor. Hell, he even bought a smoothie with two straws just to not share it and take it for himself! What a narcissist the man was. Meanwhile, for his part, Alastor was wholly unamused — especially when Vox accused Alastor of lacking a tail on live television.

Now, they both lay in Vox’s bedroom, Alastor forced to watch Valentino and Vox have sex. That qualified as assault, no? Well Vox didn’t seem to care, only finding amusement in Alastor suffering. Alastor’s nose scrunched up in distaste beneath the gag mask; his deer ears flicking back as his gaze wandered the room.