#bc it's fuuuun to have things organiiiized

[stormyweaver]

Birthday Blues || H/azbin H/otel, V/ox

Did you really think I'd be able to stay away for long? HAH. Anyway this is lowkey a kind of 'it makes me feel better' drabble thingie. So anyway yes, hopefully ya' like it! Also yes Pap/ermint is the name of Vox's assistant and I feel like this is a horrible error to be occurring but lol

Vox sniffled - a pathetically plugged, bunged up sound that crackled with static - before promptly blowing his vents clear. Well, as clear as they could get all things considered. He was so sufficiently blocked up, congested to the point that he could barely speak without sounding like someone had surrounded his audio processing units with cotton. It was almost painful, but for the moment it mainly bordered on uncomfortable and infuriatingly inconvenient. “Haaaappy Birthdaaaay to youuuu~!!!”

His left eye twitched as he heard the sounds of a kazoos and party poppers going off. Gaze flitting back to the screen he’d been watching previously, it narrowed as the scene lay out before him: multiple of his associates gathered in the lunchroom, surrounding a table where behind the crowding bodies, an elder demon sat at the very edge. There was a cake in front of her - nothing extravagant, likely home-made judging from the mis-matched candles and frankly shoddy frosting flowers. Everyone was all smiles, including the sinner's gummy, wrinkled lips. Vox’s own upper lip curled slightly. An office birthday party. How… ghastly.

He’d gotten the request months in advance from Papermint, who seemed to be quaking more than usual when presenting it to Vox. Technically he would have been within his rights to deny the extension on their lunches, but… he’d been busy at the time, and it didn’t raise any real concerns so he’d signed just to get the other back to working on IMPORTANT matters. 

Now, he was sorely regretting not filing it into the trash bin. … Okay, not really. It was a birthday party - who didn’t like birthdays? It was one of the few moments where those in Hell could actually forget about the fact that they were actually damned for all eternity. A chance to celebrate something. Vox had even attended a few gatherings himself, in the past. Back when…

Nope. Not opening that can of fucking worms. Not any time soon.

A round of clapping brought Vox’s waning attention back up towards the screen, and his left eye began to dilate as he spotted a familiar face on the monitor. Velvette!? Seriously? Why would SHE even want to be seen with such lowly… wait, that was her employee, wasn’t it? One of her tailors. A bloody fantastic one, to use her own phrasing. He thought she didn’t like old people, though. Fossils, or something along those lines. But - he supposed there was no bias to be had when it came to doing a good job.

It made sense, and softened the feeling of betrayal just a smidge. Still didn’t stop his temple from throbbing in irritation, though.

Sniffling again, Vox plucked a tissue from the side of his desk and tended to a leaking vent. It wasn’t like he’d even wanted to attend their little bitch-ass party anyway. He had better things to do. Not like he’d been told to attend in the request. Tch. Stupid underlings… stupid fucking granny tailor… stupid… STUPID... … He needed a smoke. The cigarette was dangling from his lips, thumb barely brushing against the tip when Vox’s breath caught. “Hhh… f-huuugck– hHHRRZZSCHHH’HUE!!” The sneeze was harsh, jerking Vox forward as his razor sharp teeth snapped the cigarette in half. Spatting out the remaining piece, he clutched the side of his head as his shoulders shakily rose and fell. “Ahh- hahh..! hHZNGT’SHUE! Hh’IZZSCHh! hhheh’Ī̧̠͂̚Ȋ̡̧͇̙̟̦̗̣͚̫̜͙̲͔̞̩̜̻̙͉̻̻̉̎̔͗̌̓̒ͦͤ̔̀͂͘͘̕͘͠Ž̖́͋̕͠Z̶̢̢̯̟̬͉̞̩̬͈̰̭̀̂͊ͯ̓ͣ̐͑͊ͭ̊͂͑͛̏͘S̠̺Hhiew!!”

Fuck’s sake. Fuck’s SAKE. 

Growling in frustration, Vox tossed the rest of the packet into his drawer, then thrust his upper half onto the desk in a huff.  Fuck birthday parties. And fuck being sick.