Spelled Out (In Ink) - AlastorxVox - Voxal - RadioStatic

Chapter 4.

"Did the radio demon join the Vees?"

"Is that Alastor walking with Vox?"

"Are Vox and Alastor fuckin' eachother finally?"

These were all hurried whispers that the two men had heard over and over now as they marched down the busy roads of pride, hands clasped with one another to further the image of a happy couple going on about their day in hell.

This was furthest from the truth though, which was rather unfortunate to Vox, but he still felt rather smug about the increasingly common misconception. Alastor's smile looked like it was straining to the point of being painful to wear, his ears were pinned back in a silent rage, and his harsh radio waves would occasionally cause Vox's screen to turn to static.

The only reason they were walking together was the fact that Vox had insisted they do so, his reasoning being that the public would see them together of course. Since they had taken a stroll instead of choosing to simply teleport, the living computer now had the holy knife tucked away in his pocket in case the deer attempted to run; he wanted to hold it to the cannibal's throat but then that would mean looking like he was forcing the man to be by his side. Which he was, but no one else needed to know that.

That was all okay though. Because they were still holding hands. Vox was holding Alastor's hand. His hand. And everyone else looking would slowly begin to understand who the radio demon belonged to now.

He was taken away from his thoughts from the unpleasant tightening of the stag's claws around his as they turned around a street corner, causing Vox to send a vicious glare over to the deer in warning. Strangely though, Alastor had a surprised look on his face, and he wasn't looking at the television host.

Vox glanced towards the direction the buck was looking at, and was met with the sight of the other Hazbin sinners passing out various crudely drawn colored photos of Alastor with the word, 'MISSING' to any passerby they could catch.

Alastor chuckled at this, oddly seeming fond of his strange companions. "They're quite the funny bunch aren't they? They certainly keep me on my toes, though it's nice to know they care." Vox himself just thought that they looked stupid; it would be easier to just ask people, 'Have you seen an attractive maniac running around and killing people over their enjoyment of modern technology?' He thought that would do the trick nicely.

"Now then, let's greet the camaraderie then." The radio star moved to join his associates but was stopped by Vox poking at Alastor's still red cut across his neck, causing the older overlord to wince. "You may want to fix that first." Alastor huffed at this but snapped his fingers, and there was suddenly a bandage around his neck. Black magic couldn't heal angelic wounds, but it could cover them at the very least. They stepped into view of Alastor's supposed friends, and weren't given much more time to themselves after that.

Angel Dust was the first to notice the duo, face morphing to shock and then relief, rushing to the stag and crushing him in a four armed hug. Vox narrowed his eyes jealously at the image. Perhaps they would later have to talk about what touches Alastor would and would not be allowed to receive from others after signing the soul contract.

"Oh thank fuckin' god your safe Al, holy shit I'm so sorry, I didn't know that Val gave me a sleeping poison and I wasn't even thinking straight when the fucker gave it to me; goddamnit I'm such an idiot," he continued to babble at the red-head unintelligibly, profusely apologizing over and over for spiking the punch.

Alastor stood there stiffly, Vox was sadly unable to see the man's face due to the spider obstructing his view, but he saw the stag raise a pair of claws and slowly pat Angel Dust on the shoulder in some attempt of comfort.