Stop Singing Showtunes {Hazbin Hotel x OC Charcter}

Chapter 4

It's been five months.

"Nyx! Where the FUCK did you put my tinted sunscreen!? You know I can't go outside without putting it on first!"

Everything is not fine. Everything is shit.

Groaning, I slide out of my desk, pushing past racks of dresses I've yet to look through while Velvette prepares to put out her newest collection and grab said moisturizer out from a drawer in the desk. I stole it two weeks ago to see how long it would take for him to notice. The end result was worth it.

While Val's Fizz-Bot, Kitty, rushed around, metallic arms swinging around and coming scarily close to breaking literally everything, I hold out the small tube of purple sunscreen that Val doesn't even need seeing as there's no sun in hell, he's just being a bitch-ass, and wait for the small robot to snatch it.

She does, right after I finish my inner monologue, almost like it's been rehearsed. Then, she dashes back up to Val's smoke room, or whatever he uses that place for because he doesn't live there and he doesn't fuck any of his employees there either. It's pretty much his 'mope around and smoke' room.

It's also full of clothes he asked (forced) Velvette to make him, then wore a whopping total of one time. What can I say, he's a keeper. She said with zero sarcasm and absolutely no dramatic eye-rolls.

Sitting back down, I held in a groan. Life would be easier if I could hide in my apartment room a few floors below the Vee's penthouse and listen to show tunes as I cry in the shower but nOoOoOo, I decided to go get a job. With the Vee's!

Great move past me. But hey, at least it's hella funny. Check it out;

My first week;

"Nyx, I need you to run these up to Vox, then help me pick a length for this new sundress design I don't really want to make." Velvette instructed, snapping her fingers and having one of the other workers snatch the pile of silk fabrics out of my hands and replace it with a large (and heavy) stack of papers.

"O-kay..." I mumbled weakly, my arms trying to find the balance that would stop the papers from falling out of my hands. Why do we even need papers? Can't Vox just do everything digitally?

The elevator ride to Vox's private office, or as I like to call it his 'I'm still mourning over my ex but we were never dating in the first place and I'm just a sadist' Man-Cave'. Yep. I'm hilarious, I know. But the elevator music was gross. Like, the music in the background of a video game when you run into a wall an dit gets out off all the time. It was try-hard music and it sucked.

Then the walk through the fluorescent neon blue lights across the navy-with-hints-of-red color pallete attacked my eyes, then I had to wait for the automatic door to open.

How the fuck does this guy even get into his office???

Anyway, after the trek to his desk I unceremoniously plopped the papers down on the table nearest to him, and cleared my throat.

"Velvette asked me to bring these to you. Have fun." I announce, my tone getting a bit quieter for the second statement before I go to slowly trudge back to the elevator.

But it didn't stop there. Of course it didn't. Vox just had to stop me when I was almost at the elevator door, making me walk the whole way back. What a jackass.

"Do you know any good virtual therapists?" Vox spoke, his voice sounded slightly wavering and unsure. And his screen glitching. Velvette told me that only happens when something's wrong.

"Uh... I've only been in hell for about a month Sir. I would be surprised if I did." I speak, leaning my weight slightly on the wall beside me while I finish catching my breath from going back and forth.