Remote Access (Alastor x Vox)

Chapter 8

Meanwhile, at the Hazbin Hotel, the group gathered around the television displaying varying degrees of interest. The majority seemed either disengaged or outright bored with the fashion-centric content, their attention wandering as the segment progressed.

Charlie, however, stood in stark contrast to her companions. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, her voice filled with genuine admiration as she watched model after model showcase Velvet's latest creations. "Ooh, wow, that dress is actually pretty cute... That one's even cuter!" she exclaimed softly, unable to contain her enthusiasm. In stark contrast, Angel Dust's patience was wearing thin.

"Ughh, I hate talk shows..." he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest with a pointed sneer directed at the television screen, his feelings towards the host unmistakably clear. "'Specially this fucker..." he added, unable to mask his contempt.

"...I'm gonna need another drink if I have to sit through this shit," Angel muttered to himself before rising to his feet. He made his way back over to the concierge desk where Husker stood, polishing shot glasses. It appeared Husk had never left his perch, completely disinterested in Alastor's little scheme from the beginning.

"Enjoying the show, Alastor?" Vaggie asked, sitting up to smirk over at the man. "Seems like your grand plan's taking a backseat to Velvet's fashion parade..."

"Timing is everything in show business," Alastor replied with a nonchalant air, brushing off her comment as if it were nothing more than a feather against his suit jacket.

"But I suppose for now... We COULD make this a little more entertaining," he suggested, crossing a leg over the other before settling back into his seat with a casual elegance that belied the keenness of his eyes.

With a slow and deliberate gesture, Alastor raised his little toy, aiming the remote at their television screen, his grin growing increasingly devilish.

As the fashion show proceeded, with Velvet captivating the audience, Vox himself used the opportunity to pull out his phone and browse social media, as if the subject matter wasn't entirely engaging enough for him, unaware of what was to come.

Alastor pressed a button, and the effect was instantaneous. Vox leaped from his seat with a shriek that was anything but dignified, his phone flying from his grasp. The device arced through the air, becoming an unwitting projectile that landed with a thud against the head of one of Velvet's prized models.

The timing couldn't have been worse; the model was at the pinnacle of her strut into the camera's view, the impact causing her to stumble and disrupt the flow of Velvet's meticulously planned showcase. Velvet's reaction was immediate and fiery, her visible rage a stark contrast to the confusion and shock that painted Vox's face.

Vox, still reeling from the unexpected jolt, lightly trembled, the sensation akin to being tased. The bizarre occurrence left him grappling for an explanation, his mind racing to make sense of the sudden disruption. With the studio and viewers alike caught in a moment of bewildered amusement, Vox attempted to regain some semblance of control over the situation.

"S.. Sorry, heh, allergy season..." he stammered, the excuse falling flat in the charged atmosphere. His hand went to the collar of his tie, tugging at it in a vain attempt to cool himself down, or perhaps to convey a nonchalance he was far from feeling. His eyes darted around, his gaze met with stares of amusement, confusion, and, in Velvet's case, simmering fury.

As the broadcast struggled to return to its planned trajectory after the initial shock, Alastor decided to up the ante. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he turned his attention back to the remote control, his fingers dancing over its surface with sinister intent.