Vox goes to therapist

It was indeed a terrible day. Of course in Hell all days were — or at least supposed to be — terrible, but when an overlord shows up on your doorstep you know your day is doomed irredeemably. Even worse when one particular flat-faced bitch for some reason decides that you are now his therapist. So now, Sage was stuck, sitting on that stupid, squeaky chair, surrounded by their pots with hogweeds, cannabis and other stuff they grew on sell, listening to Vox going and going and going about whatever the fuck went wrong in his life once again. "And then that fucker Alastor decided to turn on his fucking stupid radio and—" Sage rubbed their half stitched mouth. It was even worse than being stuffed was hay. They should’ve just went outside on one of the Extermination days, seriously. No sooner had Sage repaired the damned generator — an emergency one! — in their apartment, after a sudden overload of electricity, than the cause of this very overload appeared before them. And for what? Of course, to whine about how miserable his stupid life was since some red head decided to creep back in Hell. The worst part was that they weren't educated for this bullshit neither in life nor after it, in hell. God, they weren't even a bartender! So why were they in this situation out of any other? It was rather easy to answer. Sage once — perhaps it was seven years ago, — saw a pathetic tv-head throwing a tantrum, rambling about "how could he reject me?!" and decided that they were ready to hear whatever drama and gossips he had. After the sixth club from which they were kicked out, Sage understood their mistake but alas, it was already too late. So here they are.   "Remind me, why you couldn’t just call me? "Call you?! Jeez, it's like you're from 40s, like some fossil, do you not know how phones work? Or how many sinners able to listen to any phone conversation you're having?" As if someone gives a shit about what you say, Sage wanted to say but decided to shut up. They weren’t ready for yet another lecture. He was a television after all. And also host. Combined together it was a dangerous mix of constantly screaming attention whore who would get fixated on whoever was not giving him what he needed. A bitch no less. Besides, who knows how deals are between overlords. "..row! Scarecrow, goddamn it! — Sage flinched, focusing their eyes on him. They didn’t even bother correcting the name. Fuck it. — Are you even listening to me?!" "Of course." "Really?" Vox squinted his eyes, one even started sparkling.  "'t’s just my body, y’know." — Sage tapped near their eye, pitch black one, with stitches all around it. - M'eyes if you will." "Oh yes, your body, of course... — Vox snorted. — You know, never understood why you decide to stick with it even after all of my proposes to change it for you." "I–" "I mean seriously, it can't even hold basic electricity before it fells apart. - he suddenly leaned forward, his eyes widened, pupil expanded into various thin black circles or whatever the fuck was that. — Lucky for you, just a day ago we started working on brand new— “I’ll consider it, thank you." "You should. It would solve so much of my problems. You could even move to my place so I–!" — Vox cuts himself off, leaning back on the couch. — Though, no, Val would probably think you are his brand-new toy and tear your pathetic ragged body apart. — probably their thoughts appeared on their face, judging from how Vox grinned before going on: — What? Nice changing after his constant whining about his Angel. Yeah, sure, that lucky slut moved, but it’s his damn fault of making such weak contract!" "And I mean sure, Val does expand our power but fuck it’s like he doesn’t even care about the brand, about how fucked up he’ll be without me! And you know what’s more?! He didn’t even bother to say that Alastor, that Bambi bitch, came fucking back!"   Oh for fuck’s sake. Honestly, Sage felt how they slowly, bit by bit, started to hate that red radio deer. If he wasn’t here… well, they wouldn’t have to listen to that TV. "Maybe you can talk to him about that? To Val, I mean." "Oh he won’t get, he knows that Alastor’s my rival. My rival! And still he said! Nothing!" With every next word, Vox started sparking more and more, his screen gave an error, which, if Sage was being honest, looked rather like a computer, than a tv one, but who cares? This idiot is about to burn down their couch, and they don't have enough money to pay off the landlord. Sage just couldn't let that happen: "Well why don’t you… uh, take a small break?" "A break? Oh well of course! That shit eating smiley face will get absolutely fucked with that hotel. HA! So I just... I need to make sure I'll be the one devouring every second of his failure, YES!"   "Eh..." "I always knew you'll be able to solve that, Scarecrow." Sage wanted to object that they didn't mean what he just said and that his idea, honestly, was nothing but shit, yet... Vox was a manbaby after all. A teenager at best. Whatever they were going to say he won't listen so why bother. "Yeah... Whatever." "And, also, fine, I'll give you that, — Vox waved his hand in such a manner, as if he was making Sage the greatest compliments of all time. — all these plants around here do actually look nice. Velvette would hate it though, don’t get me wrong, so I can propose you to purchase-!" Sage made an effort to not to show any fear of Vox inviting another overlord in here. “I’ll think about it.” “You should.” Vox gave them one of his famous toothy smiles. Sage watched him run out, almost knocking over couple of their plants, while giggling.   …Mayhaps stalking Alastor would keep him busy enough for them to manage to move the hell out from here before he comes again.