#only just started dabbling into python a few months ago n i can't resist using what little i know so far to inform vox's character a bit

[voxuli]

The touch still comes as a surprise, despite his ability to see Angel moving in through the other cameras. Maybe it's that it's a rather rude break in his own out-of-body experience; a sudden reminder that he is still as much in his body as he is viewing the outside of it. His haptic sensors in the head aren't fully plugged in yet, but he's still attuned to the subtle shift that occurs.

There's a brief flash of electricity between his antenna, another charge curling down his arm to his fingers. Claws are closed into a fist rather than letting loose a warning jolt; he can see all of Angel's hands from the other views, and the spider gives no indication he intends anything malicious.

It's a dumb decision, to be sure, but not one made with ill intent. He's still just uneasy from being jumped earlier.

"And here I thought you were capable of talking without being crass for ten minutes," he snaps, before re-analyzing some of his queued-up thoughts. No need to get snippy with him, Vox reminds himself, deleting the lot of them. He may be a bit of a mess right now, but he's still aware enough to maintain his reputation. And anyway, Angel is–as far as he can tell–just trying to help.

"I don't need to lie down," he clarifies, forcing his voice into a calmer tone. "I'm pretty sure I know what's wrong."

After all, the gang of idiots that had tried to take him on hadn't limited their attacks to his head; doubtlessly the wires in his body had been similarly jostled out of place. If the head had been a mess, his chest cavity was bound to be a nightmare, the likes of which are already threatening a metaphorical migraine.

It had been one thing to let Angel assist him with the head; none of that was critical, despite Angel's prior worries. Vox rather preferred it that way, letting people think it was the source of his being when in reality it was nothing more than a vanity prosthetic.

To give the spider access to his true innards, however: simply unthinkable. It doesn't matter if he understands what he sees or not, or even if he doesn't intend to use it against Vox. He knows the value of that kind of information, and the only way he's been able to be sure that data wouldn't make it out into the public was to ensure it never left his own body.

He'd be more confident if both his hands were working, but... he'll figure out a way to fix it. On his own. Because he has to, and that's all there is to it.

He reaches up to one of Angel's wrists to tug him away from his case. "I'm not in the habit of letting people into the rest of my wiring, Angel, but thank you for the offer. I'll manage. Now let's see, the back panels and the screws should all still be on the table over there..."

[ alone ] for one muse to find the other trying to treat themselves /and or

[ drugged ] for one muse to take care of the other while they’re delirious

@a-hazbin-spider ?

[ alone ] from the injury/hurt prompts list!

~

Vox usually likes to be alone after a fight; to lick his wounds in private, so to speak. He has a habit of walling himself off in his sanctum, free to keep tabs on everyone while secure in the knowledge that no one could see him. The solemn darkness of the space was the next best thing to real reassurance that things were going to be okay, and much easier to get ahold of.

He's careless, perhaps. Maybe too injured to think as he stumbles inside, a prominent trail of black oil and bright blue coolant marking his path from the nearest CCTV camera to the door. He forgets to lock the door on the way in.

So it's a nasty shock some time later when the door slides open in the middle of his work. The bright glare of the hallway floods in, illuminating both his headless form and his TV on the table in front of him, its case pulled open and innards exposed for repairs. In lieu of his normal vision, each of the many screens around all swivel to look at the intruder, all displaying a single, familiar red eye.

Vox snarls as he recognizes the silhouette, sinking claws into the table. His speakers blow out and warp his voice as his audio processors fail to keep up.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Angel Dust?"