Time For A Veesome - Tumblr Posts
While he was working anywhere else in Vee Tower, or even just walking from one public space to another, Vox always strived for perfection, to put out exactly the right image and energy at exactly the right time. He was always aware of his image, aware that anyone could be watching, and that everyone’s eyes, down to the tiniest messenger imp’s, were still eyes. If he was anywhere but in their living quarters, Vox was always On.
But when he wasn’t in what he considered to be the public eye? When he just wanted to enjoy a quiet evening of… well, of more work, sure, but a quiet evening? And this happened?
He looked up from the ledger he’d been writing in, holding the large book open on his lap, curled up in the corner of his plush leather couch. Vox’s quarters were almost brutally minimal compared to Valentino’s or Velvette’s, but to him, the rooms were perfect. Comfortable, calming, exactly what he wanted them to be. He didn’t put much in there in the way of furniture or decor, nor did he entirely stick to mid-century modern despite what some might expect… but one thing he hadn’t put in there was Angel’s noise. It was unwelcome. Extremely unwelcome.
Cranky, tired, and frustrated that he’d now been interrupted in the middle of what was to him a fairly important task, Vox capped his fountain pen, set the ledger aside, and stretched, moving slowly and casually as he listened to Angel throwing his little diva tantrum. Whatever had caused it was probably Val’s fault somehow, he thought (unkindly, but with a dark amusement), and he usually left the two of them to themselves. He never watched Angel when he was out and about, never spied on him in his living space, never intruded on whatever it was that Angel and Valentino had unless Val specifically asked him to check in. Not that he was jealous, of course. It wasn’t like Angel Dust got to put his hands and lips all over Valentino in ways Vox would love to feel so free to do. Ha. What a thought. No, he just didn’t care what happened to Angel Dust. He really didn’t. Absolutely didn’t. He didn’t care. At all. Not even a little.
He definitely didn’t protest too much, even to himself. Ha.
Having thought he was in for the night, Vox was dressed down far more than he liked to be when he was going to be around anyone else, but there was just so much noise happening and he was so irritated, he didn’t want to go put proper attire on. So, still in his slacks, shirt unbuttoned to reveal a snug, sleeveless undershirt, tie still hanging undone to either side, he just grabbed a drink and made his way in to go do some bothering of his own.
Vox let himself in to Angel’s room, watched the flying objects for a moment–then overrode every little possible speaker Angel possessed so they amplified Vox’s own speakers as he started projecting sound effects and a laugh track. Squeaky clown bonk noises when something hit a wall, an audience cracking up at exactly the wrong moment, a peppy little musical number to code the scene as comedy. Whether or not Valentino chose to grace them with his beautiful presence, Vox was here and annoyed and going to at least amuse himself.
“Having fun? You know, Val actually has to pay for all of that.” Folding his arms, he leaned back against the wall. “And while we’re at it. Who the fuck put their hands on you?” He tried to ask it like he didn’t care, hidden under a facade as if there was no actual concern whatsoever. Like he wasn’t seething a little. Angel might not be his, but goddamn it, he was theirs. Their person, their property. Theirs. Whoever the fuck thought they could get away with beating the tar out of Angel Dust was going to become tar.
[kicking it over to @hellmxses ! ]
With how long he had been living in the V Tower, they would all be used to his little outbursts. They weren’t nearly as bad as Valentinos, at least if one were to ask him personally, but he was still known for having little temper tantrums every now and then. Which was exactly what was happening right now. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be going out on his own more than he needed; or more so more than was allowed. Valentino had definitely cracked down after Anthony Angel Dust had signed the contract. But there was no way he wasn’t going to have a little fun himself, cause a little chaos.
Which had been exactly what had put him in such a bad mood. Because causing chaos often came with chaos being directed towards him as well, and that part he didn’t like – especially when it wasn’t fun. By the bloody arm and split lip, that was proof it wasn’t fun. Angel was a skilled gunsman, he usually didn’t allow himself to get hit, but those mobsters had really caught him off guard.
Which was exactly why he was throwing a tantrum. He hated feeling like he was losing in any way, slamming the door to their shared living space was bit too hard before storming up to the penthouse. Even though he naturally mostly stayed in Valentino’s space, he was glad he had his own as well – Val probably was, too, considering how many people he brought home. And there was Vox, of course. And Velvette. He wasn’t dumb.
So to his room he went, and anyone that was remotely within ear shot would hear the way things smashed against his walls. It wasn’t like Val wouldn’t help him replace the expensive makeup, the perfumes, everything else. Fat Nuggets wasn’t even phased, curled up in the middle of the luxurious sheets as his momma cussed and yelled, mostly in Italian of course, finally having got out his annoyance in the form of rage enough to calm down – but only after his room was in shambles.
@doublejango // @hellmxses