Chapter Text
"You know, I'm surprised you're so worried about the seizures," Val drawled.
"What an odd thing to say. Vox is my partner and his seizures are a serious medical issue. Why wouldn't I worry about him?"
"Well it's just a little ironic, given the circumstances."
"And what, exactly, does that mean?"
"Just that you weren't all that concerned about Vox's health 20 years ago when you slammed him through that building during your little break up."
"You'll remember it takes two to tango. Vox dealt his fair share of blows then too. We've moved past it."
Val takes a long drag from his cigarette and stares at Alastor. The smoke curls in the air above them and Alastor has the urge to bat that damn cigarette holder out of his hand like a spiteful cat. He resists, because he's a gentleman, but it's a near thing. Finally, Valentino speaks.
"Have we?" Another drag, another foul exhale. "Vox certainly can't."
Alastor forces his smile wider. He tires of this game. Whatever Valentino wants, Alastor is not going to play along.
"And what would you know of it? I don't recall you being in the room when Vox and I discussed the matter."
Valentino smirked. "You're right, I wasn't." He takes another drag from his cigarette and then shrugs.
Alastor is done with this conversation. His patience with the moth has worn thin and as much as he'd like to end this in his favorite fashion, Vox has told him Valentino is off limits.
"Well this has been a delightful chat, Valentino, but I'm afraid I've other things to do. If you'll excuse me!"
"Of course, of course. Don't let me keep you." Valentino's tone oozes fake congeniality. Alastor gives a succinct nod and begins to stride towards the door. As he reaches for the handle, Valentino speaks up once more.
"You know, Vox never had seizures while he was up top. He only started getting them recently. Maybe, 20 years ago or so?"
Alastor freezes, heart thudding in his chest.
His mind replays the conversation at breakneck speed as he turns to face Valentino once again.
Valentino radiates smugness, a cruel sort that Alastor knows well. The kind of pride of a hunt well executed creates, as one watches the prey realize they have walked right into the trap.
Alastor wants to wipe that vile smirk off the moth's face, but he can't, as a terrifying undercurrent of fear is trickling through him.
"I beg your pardon?"
Valentino stares back at him, red eyes laconic and yet sharp. How had Alastor not seen their sharpness before?
"You heard me."
The words are chilling and infuriating all at once. Alastor wants to step forward and rend Valentino limb from limb. He wants to rip the moth's wings off his back and mount them on his wall. He wants to demand answers from Valentino and then broadcast his screams for all of Hell to hear.
But deep inside, that trickle of fear has turned into a torrent and he can feel the urge to flee run escape danger that his idiotic deer instincts demand . It 's overwhelming . He needs to leave now . But not without a parting gift.
He summons a shadow and engulfs Valentino before throwing him hard across the room.
"I would advise you to not speak of what you do not know, moth."
Valentino gasps and coughs up a bit of blood. His antennae are pressed down against his skull and that vile smirk has finally been wiped from his face.
Alastor forces a smile and a cheery tune erupts from his microphone.
"Now, if that's all, I really must be going! Ta ta, Valentino!"
Alastor lets his shadows take him. He rides them for what feels like hours until they manifest him in his tower. His sanctuary.