Chapter Text
To say things had been tense and hectic would be a humongous understatement. Charlie felt as if the very hotel itself hadn’t known a single moment of peace from the very first step her and her friends took inside its lobby after their showdown with the TV Overlord. Sinners flooded her hotel lobby either wanting to see the hotel for its novelty or genuinely considering dropping off an application to the front desk.
The lobby felt most days like it was brimming with joy; however, there was a slight under current of depression that cut through for those who had been long-term residents. Angel Dust still had refused to come home even as the weeks blurred even as the messages and voicemails never stopped coming his way.
Her father was present, just as much as before, but there was a different feel to how he interacted with the Sinners after his secret was broadcasted to all of Pentagram City. Then there was Vaggie. Charlie knew it wasn’t fair to dump all her feelings onto her girlfriend, and that's why the distance between them seemed to grow by the day.
There was a domino effect with Vaggie that kept gnawing at her subconscious. Her terrible advice had gotten her dad captured, and with that capture he could fuel the cannon Vox had Carmilla build for him and leveled so much of the city in his haste to hurt Alastor.
It wasn’t fair, and Charlie knew this; she had read so many self-help books for her redemption program, but she still had that traitorous feeling plucking away at her. That was why she was where she was now, a vintage old and empty bar all alone.
Occasionally Cherri or Husk would hear wind of Angel and his random sporadic appearances in public. Then they’d go to these places hoping to find him only to be too late. The only evidence he was even there was the fans, always gloating about getting to meet the porn star in person and get his autograph.
When these outings happened Charlie would either gently tell Vaggie it was okay to stay behind, to watch the hotel and its guests, or fully split off from her when the search began. Tonight, she’d stayed behind, and Charlie eventually ended up prowling the streets with her two friends.
Some drunk Sinner at the bar claimed Angel stepped out to another bar not far to wait for his ride back to Vee Tower and so they split with each of them going to another location nearby.
The “Speakeasy Song” lit up down the road catching her eye in the dark of the city streets. It looked small and vintage, an antique quality about it. Stepping through the doors, she hadn’t been hopeful since she hadn’t seen any sign of a limo outside, but her hopes shot up when seeing a familiar TV shaped denizen.
Vox in all his glory if she could even say that was screen down on the wooden bar-top hand curling around his drink gently. So many emotions bounced around her ribcage like an overcaffeinated hummingbird.
Shoving them down, she ran past him and slammed open the bathroom door eyes scanning for any sign of Angel Dust. She just needed to see one stray tuft of fluff, one scattering of sweat covered glitter.
With every stall she opened her chest deflated a little, the potential hope sputtering like a flame in the wind. Steeling her nerves, Charlie inhaled and then exhaled, putting a hand against the bathroom door and pushing.
She stalked towards Vox, who was still cradling his drink with one arm loosely while his face or screen or whatever she didn’t care, was still and flat against the bar top. Sensing her anger, the bartender made himself sparse, slinking back into a doorframe she assumed was where they kept inventory.
She felt odd coming face to face with the Overlord again. Could she still call him that? Not long after the news joked about changing VoxTech’s name, did the announcement come. Anything with Vox in the title became Vee instead, VeeTube and VeeTech along with everything else the Overlord handled.
Valentino was pictured as some shining force who saved hell and was the face of old VoxTech now, a PR stunt by Velvet more than likely. A shred of pity wormed its way into her chest, and she tried to shut it down, but she was who she was, and she couldn’t snuff it out completely.
Her voice came out gentler than she meant, “Where’s Angel Dust Vox?”
Silence only met her ears, no there was something. A muffling maybe? Was he trying to talk to her while his face was smushed flush on the counter? It was light and slurred, but he was responding; it was steady.
But it was hushed, everything in her wanted to drag his face off the counter after everything not only the Vees did but he himself, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch him not with how pathetic he looked. That was until his mumblings took on a whining tone.
“Way-” He slurred mumbling before suddenly getting louder, “me-” His hand shot out as if gripping something invisible.
His way? Was he going to vomit? Panic surged through Charlie as she gripped his hand to pull him up so he could run to the bathroom, maybe just aim at the floorboards underneath their stools. But instead, neon blue electricity surged from his hand and up her arm when their skin met. Charlie recoiled but not from pain, but from the magic she felt. It felt different; it felt like when she made a deal with Alastor.
Her fangs poked her tongue at their sudden appearance, her hair slightly shifting into her eyes from her horns softly elongating without her emotions being toyed with.
Panic surged through her as she realized she had just unknowingly made a deal with Vox, a deal that she had no idea what for. She was careless and her fight or flight kicked in, but she couldn’t decide which one.
“What have you done?” Charlie demanded slamming one closed fist down onto the counter her heart beating like it wanted, no needed, to abandon her.
More muttering, softer, and quieter. Frustration getting the better of her Charlie yanked his screen up and noticed how his eyes were blurred occasionally static floating into his screen. He couldn’t have been plotting seriously with his mind so intoxicated, could he?
Suddenly letting go of the edge of his screen, Vox slammed down back onto the counter in a way that answered her thoughts. Charlie did what she did best; she panicked. Her vision blurring slightly as black spots crept in trying to cloud her vision, air evading her lungs with her shallow and fast breaths.
The door chimed with her hasty exit, her legs pounding in rhythm with her ribcage as she practically sprinted home. Her thoughts ran wild in her skull; she didn’t even realize when she stepped back onto the plush carpet of the hotel’s lobby until a soft hand gripped her shoulder.
Peeling her eyes away from the floor, she found Vaggie’s eyes skeptically gazing at her, softly wondering what was wrong.
“Charlie? Are you okay?” Worry was laced in Vaggie’s soft question, and Charlie could see how her eyes scanned her for injuries or anything that would clue her in on what was wrong.
“I just-” But the response died on her tongue like ash.
What could she even say?
‘Hey sorry I know I’ve been distant lately, but our newest problem is I made a deal with the media Overlord? A deal I have no idea what it contains?’ Charlie’s brain rushed out.
“Charlie, you’re really worrying me, Cherri and Husk haven’t even come back yet.” Vaggie commented, gripping Charlie’s arm a little too tight to be casual.
“Hey, hey we can talk about it after we calm down yeah?” Vaggie soothed, kissing the peak of Charlie’s hairline.
Vaggie was right; she was her voice of reason, her rock. She just needed to try those breathing exercises she was teaching everyone during the group activities. In and out, repeat. Forcing herself to breathe, Charlie felt calmer, not at peace but a little less like she would explode from just merely existing.
Okay now she just needed to comfort Vaggie, show her she appreciated her soothing words. Return the gesture and kiss her forehead too. It was simple, technically platonic her brain added on the last minute.
Sighing, Chalie went to return the kiss, “Thanks Vaggie I just-” and she stopped mid-sentence, midair.
Just centimeters from Vaggie’s forehead Charlie paused like someone had hit a remote button. She wanted to kiss Vaggie, but she couldn’t. No, she knew better than this. She had read so many books on therapy and coping mechanisms.
She could kiss her girlfriend back; it was a simple thing, but she couldn’t. Something was stopping her. Her thoughts fought her muscles, and she could see Vaggie staring at her with worry swirling in her eyes as gears desperately tried to turn.