Do Stags Dream of Electric Creeps? ✨📺🦌✨|vox x alastor|

Chapter 7

Vox furrowed his brow, his curiosity instantly piqued. He followed the odd noise down the hall, his mind spinning with questions.

Rounding the corner, his eyes widened at the unexpected sight.

In the kitchen, Alastor stood, humming along to a lighthearted tune playing softly from the small radio resting on the window sill. He donned a red and white striped apron over his crisp dress shirt, his sleeves neatly rolled up. A few loose bobby pins held his hair in a makeshift ponytail, giving him a strangely elegant appearance.

Alastor transferred the contents of the skillet he was using onto plates, lining them up with precision on the counter. As he turned, his humming paused, his sharp eyes catching sight of Vox, standing frozen in the doorway.

His antennae buzzed from the surreal nature of the scene, his circuits struggling to process what he was seeing.

"Ah, just in time for the most important meal of the day!" Alastor announced in a surprisingly cheerful tone, wiping his hands on his red-splattered apron.

Vox blinked a few times, his confusion evident despite his flickering display.

"Uh... Hold on... What now?" he managed, his voice tinged with disbelief as he shook his head, still trying to align this version of Alastor with the one he'd come to know.

The overlord leaned casually against the counter, rolling his eyes with a playful, exaggerated sigh. "Breakfast, Vox! You really shouldn't start your day without it, you know."

His tone was light, playful even. Vox narrowed his eyes, a certain dread creeping into his expression. He raised a hand, ready to voice some form of protest, but Alastor steamrolled over him effortlessly.

"Sit, sit! I assure you, you won't be disappointed." his voice rung with enthusiasm as he snapped his fingers, conjuring a small dining table on the other side of the kitchen.

The table appeared perfectly set, complete with two chairs.

Vox eyed the setup suspiciously, his gaze flicking between it and Alastor's unnervingly cheerful grin. There was something about this scene of domesticity—especially coming from the Radio Demon—that was deeply unsettling.

In response to Vox's hesitation, Alastor made a dismissive shooing motion with his hand, urging—no, demanding—Vox to take a seat.

With a wary expression, Vox reluctantly complied, settling into the chair with a stiff posture, still not convinced this wasn't some elaborate trick.

Once Vox was seated, Alastor approached with a dome-lidded plate in hand, lifting the lid to reveal... a neatly stacked pile of batteries.

Vox's expression soured instantly. He crossed his arms over his chest, his screen flickering with annoyance as his head snapped up to glare at Alastor. The deer, barely containing his amusement, leaned back slightly, clearly enjoying the reaction he'd provoked.

"Whoops! Almost forgot you ate 'people food' for a second there," Alastor chuckled, quickly whisking the plate of batteries away.

Before Vox could say a word, the overlord replaced it with the actual breakfast. The spread was surprisingly inviting—steaming, and well-presented—but Vox remained visibly hesitant, eyeing the meal with lingering suspicion.

Alastor, sliding into the chair across from him, placed a set of cutlery beside the plate.

"Go on, take a bite," he coaxed, his voice disarmingly soft but his gaze fixed intently on Vox. "It's not like I poisoned it or anything... ruins the flavor, hehehe," he added casually, taking a sip from his steaming mug of coffee.