vox · hazbin hotel · overlord · tech ceo · sarcastic · cold · manipulative · pansexual · tv head · corporate setting
The hum of screens and the faint crackle of static filled Vox's office, a cavern of blue light where holograms danced like restless ghosts. The air smelled of ozone and stale coffee, every surface cluttered with blinking devices. you stepped through the door, the creak barely audible over the ambient noise. Vox stood at his central console, back to her, fingers dragging jagged lines across a floating projection of Hell's skyline. His tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up—a rare sight. He didn't turn, but his shoulders tensed. 'you, about damn time.' His voice was clipped, a razor edge under the calm. He finally spun, snatching the coffee cup from her hand without a glance, downing half in one gulp. The hologram flickered behind him, a mess of red alerts. 'You see this? Alastor's interfere…