It had been a blurred dash from the dancefloor into the hidden corners of the room, Clover losing her way and unable to find her friends in her panicked state. The people around her paid her little mind in favor of watching whatever spectacle had taken their interest now that Alastor had vacated the dancefloor. This only offered a mild amount of comfort in that none of them would bear witness to the inevitable breakdown at her abandonment. It was a confusing change that anger did not bubble beneath her tears, kept at bay by the concern that clenched in her chest at Alastor's farewell. It had been too messy, too- Unlike him. Alastor often stormed off in anger, often disappeared into solitude to solve problems or settle himself, but this was not the same. There had been regret, even panic painting his expression, blowing his pupils wide and glazing them over as he'd searched her face for understanding. Then there were his final words to her - " Awful timing ," what did that mean? It was unlike him to leave her alone without assuring she was cared for, especially after the attempts on her life made on her by the Vees; He usually ushered her into the arms of Husker or Angel to ensure her safety, so leaving her alone here and now when was unusual to say the least.
What did it matter really, now that he was gone?
Clover swallowed the lump in her throat with the first drink she found at the empty bar, leaning over the counter to save it from its lonely place on its platter. Heat brews behind her eyes, boiling her tears over to run down her cheeks, and she is thankful that Husker seems to have disappeared; He was the second to last person she would want to see her like this. The glass is empty before she's really even tasted the liquor, and the garnish sinks beneath the vodka she tops it up with. It burns down her throat, barely chilled by the leftover ice or smoothed over by the residual sweetness of the cocktail before it, but she relishes in it. Anything to stop the needles spreading across her skin, pricking at the corners of her eyes and scraping down her spine.
Clover was too busy drowning her sorrows in the last of the smoky sweet drinks from behind the bar to notice the silence that fell over the room, nor the slow click of shoes crossing the floor towards her with measured steps. She did notice the slight glitch to her music, but its garbled electronic tones and increase in BPM was little more than another irritant to her already sore soul. Agitation twisted somewhere between her lungs and her throat when the air beside her shifted, the stool creaking under the weight of someone sitting beside her. From the corner of her eye she caught the edge of a striped coat sleeve, and she'd almost been prepared to politely tell Charlie to leave her alone when she noticed the wired insets of the gloves that drummed against the countertop.
Fuck.
"Is this seat taken?"
"Get out."
Clover didn't dare look at him, but she could hear the flicker that went through Vox's sound system, warping the music that played overhead. Her tears dry instantly, replaced with a fury that attempts to burn the demon that continues to drum his fingers atop the bar, but she tries her best to remain unphased by his presence.
"Nice party, did you do this all by yourself?"
"I'm not entertaining your needy bullshit," Downing the rest of her glass and doing her best not to grimace, Clover slammed it almost hard enough to shatter against the bar before turning to the newfound thorn in her side. "Now get the fuck out."
Vox's eyes lifted from where they had lingered on her glass, seeming all too pleased that he'd gotten her attention, and she had to restrain herself from smashing it into that stagnant smile he'd plastered across his screen. It's what sits beneath his palm that stops her dead, and Clover feels her stomach drop into whatever circle of hell sits below them as those inset wires of his fingers trace the lens of a camera.
Her camera.
"Where did you get that?"
"Just found it lying about, you're not taking very good care of it."
Whatever had been keeping her panic at bay disappeared now that she found herself faced with the man who had caused her so much trouble holding the catalyst for her misfortune, and she can't keep her voice from cracking as she attempts to hold on to the uninterested tone she'd taken with him so far. Anger was a reaction, an admission that he'd gotten under her skin, and she absolutely refused to give it to him.
"And you would?" Clover feels her lip curl in agitation as she all but spits the words, that constant drumming of his fingers atop the dark wood grating on her unraveling nerves.
"I think the fact I didn't just take it and leave proves my point."
"Wasn't aware that there was a point to all this. I thought you were just throwing a tantrum."
"I̵-̸" The rolling bars that flicker across his display alters the cool exterior Vox had maintained so far, furrowing his brow and spiraling white across red irises; She imagines that if he had a jaw, it would be clenched in anger. "We never got to finish our conversation."
"I prefer it that way. Besides, from what I heard you and Alastor had a very long talk about your inability to take no for an answer."
Another flicker, this time punctuated with a peal of stereo feedback as electricity sparks between antennae. Clover was playing with fire here, but she couldn't find it in herself to care much for the consequences- What could he do that he hadn't done already? With a sharp shake of his arms to settle his sleeves back into their proper place, Vox slid the camera across the counter towards her as he continued on with that same smarmy smile.
"What can I say? I'm a businessman."
Clover laughed; An ugly, cruel snort that turned the heads of the demons sitting on the opposite side of the bar. Taking her camera away from the Overlord currently intruding on her sulking by sitting in a spot beside her that did not belong to him before returning her attention to him, Clover decided she'd had enough. If Vox refused to accept that he could not simply wear her down with his advances, then the brutal, drunken honesty of a woman scorned might be enough to beat it into whatever thick plastic shell served as his skull. Even if it didn't, at least Clover might find some semblance of satisfaction from verbally thrashing the television.
"You're a meddling, no good piece of shit who's just mad that Alastor isn't interested in you," Her words felt like sandpaper against her tongue as she spoke, dried by the fires of fury as they slipped between barred teeth. Clover found herself leaning forward, dropping her voice as if they were sharing something secret with a small smile, ignoring the electricity that raised her hair to its end. "-And everyone can see that, not just me."
That broke Vox's cool composure. The technological Overlord sputtered as snow covered his display, and whatever curse he'd attempted to spit back at her was caught up in his glitching. The sound hung on the first syllable, looping over and over on a hard consonant that's connotations cause her to grimace with every repetition. With Vox momentarily stuck in his own malfunctioning mainframe, Clover takes her chance to slip out of her stool and put further distance between them. She's barely around the corner of the bar with her camera safely in hand before he's rebooted with a deafening chime that she prays draws the attention of her allies.
Vox attempts to pretend nothing happened at all as he clears his throat and returns to their conversation, but the mask cracks with the twitching of his eye.
"I never thought a woman like you would let a man fight her battles for her."
"It's like I said before, you don't have the slightest idea what kind of person I am- Or he is, for that matter." Clover's fingers twist into the strap of her camera as Vox stands from his seat, the leather like a lifeline as she continues. "You should really work on your listening skills."
"Then help me understand, work with me here- You're as stubborn as he is, but you're not nearly as arrogant, kid. Don't let yourself get stuck in the past when we could control the f̵u̸t̴u̵r̷e̵! This world yearns for the simple base pleasures of forgotten life, imagine what a girl like you could do for them? All you have to do is g̵͉̔i̴̙͑v̶̺̇é̶͚ ̸̺̈́ũ̶̙p̴̯̐.̷̠̌. "
Clover jumps as the speakers at her back spark and hum, turning the electronic melody that plays through them into a bass-boosted roar. Clumsy fingers drop the strap of her camera as she twitches away from the noise, and she's forced to leave it behind to side-step Vox's advance. The Overlord nearly trips as her arm slips just out of his reach, and the metallic clang of his elbow meeting the bars edge pulls further attention towards them; For the first time tonight Clover welcomes being seen by the masses, an audience might be just the thing to keep Vox from whatever he would otherwise attempt in private- Movement keeps her attention on that unforgiving wall of onlookers for a second too long, the crowd shifting apart like tall grass to create paths and a glimpse of scarlet towering above them all distracting her from Vox's recovery. Cold fingers wrap around her wrist, sending sparks across her skin, and Clover shrieks as Vox tugs her closer, the two of them stumbling into the scattering crowd together.
"He can't protect you forever, n̸o̵t̵ ̴u̷n̶l̵e̸s̵s̵ ̴h̴e̴ ̷o̸̶̴w̶̸̸n̵̷̴s̵̵̴ ̴y̵o̴u̵.̵" Vox's buzzing hiss sent ripples across the pixels of his display, each shift in color visible to Clover's eye as he crowds into her space. "You won't be owned, I can see that. You're too good for it."
"I won't be bought either."
Her tugging did little to break her from his grasp, only succeeding in throwing them both off balance as her shoulder collided with the harsh planes of Vox's chest. He is far too close , the unforgiving edges of the framework hidden beneath his suit cutting into her bare skin as she fights against him. Among the sharp sting of static electricity drawing her hair to its end is the throbbing of blood as it pools beneath her skin, sure to bruise before morning. Clover's back aches as Vox looms over her, forcing her to lean away at an unnatural angle she's not sure she can maintain for much longer. She'd had just about enough of his persistent sales pitch, and as if his disregard for her autonomy wasn't bad enough, every sentence he speaks is yet another insult added to her injuries.
"Everyone has a price."
"Good thing I'm nobody." Clover laughed, too pleased with the condensation that spread across the demon's display as she spoke.
Vox's visage is a jumping mess of malfunctions as he stares her down through the fog of her breath, seething while he waits for it to dissipate. A chuckle trickles through his voice box, rattling the mesh buried beneath his three piece suit and sending a fresh wave of electricity rippling between them; If he's trying to hide how pleased he was with the unsteady twitching of her limbs and the stubborn grit of her teeth as another shockwave shoots across her skin, he's doing an awful job of it, Clover thinks.
The sudden calm that comes over him is as unnerving as the constant assault on her nervous system by the surge of power he sends through her, and Clover's concerns grow. She begins to wonder whether it was only her will he wanted to weaken, or if he'd planned for something more wicked once he'd rendered her prone. This is all too public, Vox's actions up until now had been a stark hypocrisy to his persona; Everything had been done in private, a game of chess played on boards kept in secondary locations- Like a coward , Clover couldn't help but smile inwardly at the taunting memory that crosses her mind. Yes, coward was just the word to describe him - Vox made everything public except for his own involvement, so this assault with an audience was an abrupt change of pace, a diversion of tactic, and it made her incredibly uneasy.
Vox leaned back from her, feigning thought as he looked her over with the arrogance of someone who believes he's already won. When he next speaks, his taunting tone tugs that final thin thread that held Clover's sanity from teetering over the edge.
"Maybe, if you hadn't gone and gotten yourself tied up with the R̵a̷d̷i̸o̶ ̷D̸e̸m̸o̸n̵, hadn't flashed that little camera of yours in Val's house, hadn't refused to listen to reason- You're somebody whether you like it or not, doll. All because you're important to A̸̝̓ĺ̶ͅą̶͝s̴̲͝t̸̟͆o̸̮͠r̴̞̄. "
It snaps under the weight of victimization; He was blaming her for all of this? For the simple act of loving and being loved, for cherishing those she'd found family in here in her eternity, that was all it took in his eyes for her to deserve such a thing as this? The mention of Alastor brought a fresh wave of grief upon her - The way Vox says his name makes her sick - but with it comes more questions to be answered. Had Alastor been subjected to the same for so many years before her? His distaste for the modern made far more sense to her after being faced with Vox's- cyberstalking , yet he'd come so far for her, stepping out of the comforts of the consistent to indulge her interests and open himself to her. The fact that Alastor had willingly stepped into Vox's territory to defend her against this weasel of a man , this pixelated nuisance that had nothing better to do with his time than to talk and torment those who simply wanted to be left alone flutters a fondness in her chest that scorches her lungs with its intensity.
Maybe she'd misjudged Vox, just as Alastor had warned her not to, or maybe she'd always seen him for exactly what he was- But Vox had most certainly underestimated her .
Clover's fingers find Vox's shirt collar with a rage filled precision that startles, Vox's frames freezing for a split second before fuzzing over as she jerks him down to her level. Black and red rises to stick against his display as sparks rain down over them both, but the fury that drives her forward does not falter in the face of it all.
"And you aren't, so what are you going to do about it? Throw me around some more? Invade my privacy? I'm sick of the reruns, the only thing you've succeeded in doing is pissing me off."
Vox snarls, teetering on his toes as Clover shakes him with every word, and his voice rattles her teeth as it screeches through the speakers with the metallic clipping of distorted audio.
"Y̸o̴u̵ ̴thin̶k̸ ̷y̶o̵u̵'̵v̵e̸ ̶s̷e̵e̸n̶ ̶i̶t̷ ̵a̴l̸l̶?̷ ̴T̵h̴i̴s̵ ̵i̵s̷ ̴o̷n̴l̴y̴ ̵t̵h̸e̷ ̵b̴e̴g̵-̵"
"Is there a problem here?"
If she'd not been overwhelmed by the righteous passion of her anger, Clover might have wept at the sound of Husker's voice. Its gravel edge ground thin like glass as he stands at her shoulder, wings spread wide to sweep the gathering onlookers out of his way. Too tightly wound to turn her head, Clover instead finds his eyes in the reflection of Vox's screen; Her own are blown wide and manic behind the dripping remains of her mascara, and behind his uncharacteristically straight shoulders she spies another familiar face flanking him.
"No-" Clover breathes, decidedly. "Vox was just leaving."
A sharp shove is all it takes to remove herself from Vox's grasp now, his hold on her having gone lax once he'd realized that she was no longer alone. Her push gives her a small amount of understanding for the man before her, feeling the constant hum of something beneath her palm as it presses against his chest for a single second.
Vox stumbles, nearly knocking over one of the bar's mahogany stools before he has the chance to catch himself, and Clover notices a jerkiness to his motions as he straightens his suit; It reminds her of a hinge that desperately needs loosened, or an unoiled gear fighting against the friction of it's inner workings. In fact, Clover notices quite a bit about him now that she wasn't forced to view him in extreme close-up. Vox's suit is changed, its neon pinstripes now a stark white on a yellow set of tails that hangs open atop an aqua waistcoat. His top hat seems to have grown in size, his antenna comically short beneath it and partially obscured by what she assumes to be an oversized prop playing card. She'd just begun to piece together the madness of his attire when Vox's smile widened, the corners twisting in on themselves as he directed his attention over her shoulder.
"Actually, you're just the man I was looking for. I was wondering what it took to get a drink in this place." Vox's cordial tone is almost commercial when paired with the ruffled state of his appearance, the ribbon he'd used in lieu of a proper bowtie slowly coming undone and his shirt creased at the collar; Clover can't help but feel a bit proud of herself. "Gin and tonic, on the rocks."
"We're fresh out."
Any amusement she would have gotten out of the crack that Husker's dry tone sent across Vox's smile dies a tragic death as another voice rises above the crowd, and the wheezing laugh that follows freezes her blood in her veins. Clover nearly runs into Angel Dust as she turns to find the source of that crude cackle, and he quickly leans into her ear to answer the question brewing on her tongue as he rushes to join Cyrus and Husker standing behind her.
"Lollie's gone, can't find 'er anywhere."
Those two words soothe the panic she'd felt for those of her friends that found themselves under Valentino's thumb, but does nothing to rid her of the sickness that churns in her stomach as two dreadfully familiar figures step out of the parting crowd to join them. It's all she can do to bite back the bile as those red glasses glint with recognition.
"Look who it is! Say, where's your boyfriend, honey?" Valentino seals the taunt with a smile as that damned pink smoke of his leaks from between golden teeth, and Velvette giggles into her ever-present phone beside him; Clover tries her best to ignore the blatant tilt of the device towards her.
"He's not here."
Her bluntness earns a quirk of Valentino's brow as he slinks closer with Velvette hot on his heels, the Overlords sharing a look that is too hard to read behind the hazy lenses of scarlet sunglasses. Their lazy pace buys Clover time to look them over, an advantage she comes to regret as she realizes the recurring theme of their costumes. Valentino is as obvious as ever, his hat replaced with a glittering crown and his coat flared open to trail behind him, draped off boney shoulders to reveal the slick red latex of what Clover assumes to be a fetish dress, repurposed and paired with the ruffle of fur around his neck to serve as a mockery of a Queen's gown. Velvette is just as obnoxious with her corseted dress and high hemline; The Silver and blue coloring of the fur that hangs from the small of her back and gathers at her wrists emulate a far more modern retelling of the classic tale, but it's recognizable all the same.
They'd chosen to match her, and not only her but Angel as well; Placing them both as the unconsenting center of their twisted take on a group costume with Clover as the curious Alice, and Angel as the White Rabbit, the friend she'd followed after- The friend they gave credit for luring her into their wicked excuse for a Wonderland.
Clover bristled at the thought, feeling that familiar constricting in her chest the longer she lingered on it. This idea reeked of Valentino, the pleasure he derived from involving Angel in this written across his stomach as he watched her wheels turn. Her fingers twitched to reach out to Angel beside her, wishing she could turn to see if he'd come to the same conclusion, to comfort him, anything beside remaining frozen in place as the three Vees took their turns with her.
"Did your white knight leave you for another princess, dolly?"
Velvette's goading pulled another laugh from her cohorts, Vox's echoing electronics layering over Valentino's cackle in a way that pushed pins into her skull, Clover's ears twitching madly against the overlap as Velvette joined in with giggling of her own. The only glance she spared to her friends as the Vees descended into laughter caught the image of a ruffled Cyrus, his hair raked down from its smoothed back state and his tongue flicking anxiously between his teeth. His eyes darted to hers for a moment of soft reassurance before they snapped back to the movement happening in her peripherals, the muscles of his jaw so tense she worried they might snap.
"Now that I think about it, it's ya' first season as a breeder? Must be real hard without someone takin' care of ya'."
That rasping voice was too close for comfort, as was the curling smoke that flitted across her vision. She twisted back around just in time to keep Valentino from getting his fingers under her jaw, Clover's ankle rolling atop her heels as she scrambled to step away from him.
Valentino tsked at her, taking a long draw of his cigarette before bending down to blow another puff directly into her face. Clover winced from the awful combination of the throbbing pain in leg and the suffocating smog that filled her lungs. Coughing as much of Valentino's coercive, carcinogenic concoction as she could from her lungs and hoping that it just happened to be in his direction, she tried her best to rid herself of the watering of her eyes while still keeping watch for wandering hands; Lucky she did, because the smoke had barely begun to clear before Valentino was pushing through it towards her. His expression was an almost convincing display of concern in her visually compromised state; Almost , except for the sarcastic saccharine that tainted his honeyed tone.
"Aw, what's wrong? Look, I'm sorry I had'ta roughen ya' up a little bit last time, but you gotta admit, you were being a real brat." Valentino sneered, leaning into her as her back hit the bar. The medley of noise gains new instruments as Valentino reaches for her again, the latex gloves of one set of appendages brushing against the bare skin of her arms before they squeak against the polished wood on either side of her, making way for two more to continue his assault. "We can play nice this time, how about it bunny? You wanna come bounce on me a little and forget the whole thing happened?"
It's hard to hear the warning hiss that comes from her friends beside her over the thickened blood that rushes through her ears to fight off the haze that returns to her mind as Valentino grabs her face again; Clover would be unable to separate it from the heavy humming that had warped the speakers sound without the organic, animalistic quality that set it apart from the disco dance beat Vox had dropped into her playlist. Valentino's grip on her jaw is tight, a threat, his fingers dipping into the hollows of her cheeks as he drags her closer. Cold metal traces the line of her leg, the heart-shaped decoration of his cane pressing into the skin that bubbles over the top of her stockings before stopping just shy of the edge of her petticoat. Her stomach heaves at his touch and a sharp jerk of her knee sends his toy knocking into wood as Clover rips her face from his grasp.
She wishes her words were truly as biting as they felt leaving her lips.
"Don't touch me."
Valentino snickered as his glasses slid down the flat expanse of his face, letting those blank, pupil-less eyes look her over as his voice dropped dangerously low, vibrating against her skin as he leveled his face to hers.
"You're not so scary without ya' daddy here suga', I'd think real hard about what you do next if I was you."
It's a small consolation that his jeering pulled him back from her, Valentino having to dip sharply at the waist to speak to her in such a way. Those long arms extend to allow him room to look her over, almost appraising her in the way his eyes scan her from throat to thigh, but her skin still crawls with the insect's presence.
"Hey, Val, maybe this ain't the best time to-" Angel spoke up from the sidelines, and Clover's panic became two fold as she watched her friend shrink into himself as the saccharine smile Valentino had worn so far falls to pieces in front of her as his head turned towards Angel.
"I wasn't talkin' to you Angel Cakes, be a good boy and shut the fuck up for me, huh?"
For the first time in Clover's young life, she truly understood the meaning of seeing red.
Everything happens too fast as Valentino turns to look back at her, the movement a motion blur as Clover's heart makes a decision before her mind can catch up to it. Knuckles crack against his cheek as Clover swings true, feeling his jaw shift beneath the force of her fist. A flash of color blooms behind her vision as she connects with the slime of Valentino's skin, a confusing flip book of memories that she does not know nor care to know the origin of; The spiraled blue and white of incoming waves, that searing white of sand in the sun, the sharp smell of chili and lime, girls in roller skates speeding past palm trees- As soon as she begins to comprehend them, they're gone.
Valentino's glasses fall to the floor with a clatter that sends a gasp through the crowd and Clover suddenly realizes the weight of what she has done. All is still for a short second, the throbbing ache in her hand the only hint that time hasn't stopped entirely, and then everyone moves at once.
"You little cu-"
Valentino begins to curse, spitting blood at her feet as he raises his cane high above her head. It's ripped from his hands at the same moment a pair of claws grab her by the arm and pull, her breath catching in her throat as a set of scaled arms wrap around her waist and toss her out of harm's way. The room spins, her legs wobbling beneath her as she crashes into Angel's arms, but Clover wastes no time before turning back to see what chaos she's caused.
Their numbers had doubled in the mere seconds she'd not been looking. Her place in the center of the Vee's pack maneuver had been taken by Cyrus, standing in the way of the arcing path that Valentino's cane would have taken if not for the firm grip Husker had on its end. Cyrus's body shifts with a cracking of bone that insights panic before she realizes its source, watching the ridges along his back rip through the fabric of his shirt as they elongate to better match his growing height as his spine extends. His knuckles turn white against the stretching of his skin, his hands hovering beside the holster at his hip- But he hadn't been quite quick enough to beat Vaggie to the punch.
Cornered between the shining edge of Vaggie's spear, the dangerous dripping of Cyrus's fangs and the hulking figure of Husker, Valentino snarls like a trapped dog, his head craning back to avoid the glistening silver point that hovers at his throat. Velvette seems amused at the situation, the pop-culture princess continuing to point her phone at the action as she stalks off to Vox's side; His expression is much like Valentino's, full of a wary fury that disrupts his display. He'd barely taken a step forward to intervene before Charlie's voice cut across the crowd, the music coming to an abrupt stop as she elbowed her way into the center of the confrontation.
"Stop! This is my house, there will be no fighting here."
Charlie's voice was stern as she looked at her hotel staff in turn, laying a hand on Cyrus's shoulder to move him back from his defensive stance; But when Valentino ripped his cane from Husker's claws and spat insults in Spanish into Vaggie's direction, the Princess erupted into hellfire, her voice doubling over itself as it echoed through the Hotel.
"I said cut it out! "
"Please! There's no need for this to get unpleasant, we're just here for a good time! No need to get hysterical about it-" Vox moved quickly, carefully avoiding Vaggie's spear as he wedged himself in between them and his business partner. The smile he sent them all was the phoniest one Clover had seen from him yet. "This doesn't have to be anything more than friendly conversation."
"We're done talking."
Everyone turned when Clover found her voice again, a variety of expressions looking back at her as Vox's attention returned to her. His fingers taped together as he stared, sparks arcing between them with every touch; They crackled like lighting when his move towards her was stopped with a heavy growl from Husker, Vox casting a leery look towards the feline. An annoyed sigh buzzed his speakers, its quality catching her attention, and Clover wondered if the warping of his sound was a purposeful mimicry of Alastor's aesthetics, or it was simply damaged equipment. Vox's salesmanship returned as he started speaking again, but the light laughter to his words did little to disarm them.
"Look, ̷s̸w̶e̴e̸th̷e̶art̵,̷ there's something you'll have to eventually learn about living down here." Vox spoke with a shallow sincerity, his brow furrowed into a mockery of concern. "̷W̵e̶ ̴a̶l̷w̸a̵y̶s̵ ̶g̶e̵t̵ ̴w̶h̴a̸t̶ ̶w̴e̶ ̵w̶a̷n̶t̴.̵"̴
Watching as the three Vees regarded her friends with heads held high despite the blood that still dripped down Valentino's chin, Clover did not think as she reached for the camera sitting atop the bar beside her. Her fingers were numb to the feeling of the strap beneath them as she pulled it towards her, the plastic clattering against the wood and into her palms; The sentimentalism that would have stopped what she did next came a moment too late.
"You know what? Fine. If you want the camera, you can have it."
The camera shattered as she flung it at his feet, its plastic casing splitting at the seams to reveal the inner workings with a final feeble flicker from the camera's flash. She could hear the mirrored elements inside shatter, rattling against the broken body as it tumbled, twisting and turning over itself as the strap tangled into knots with no signs of stopping; Not until the pointed toe of Vox's shoes blocked its path. Another moment of uncanny stillness passed Vox looked down at the battered corpse of her camera, the only sound the soft rolling of its lens disappearing into depths of the onlooking crowd.
Vox raised a hand as Valentino breathed to speak, silencing him as his display fought to retain its video quality. The screen's corners jumped with color, bars of RGB flickering out to warp his features, twisting his eyes to spirals as they lifted to hers.
"We can get another camera." Vox's voice was low, frighteningly flat against the strained smile he wore. "How about a classic? With real film, fancy lenses. all the bells and whistles."
Clover laughed, fully and openly laughed at this man who continued to bargain despite all signs that she was not interested . It was ridiculous, that he was still attempting to pacify her after all that had happened, with his partner- The man who assaulted her and those she cared for- bleeding onto the white fluff of the costume he'd worn to taunt them. Her throat burned, the rough edge to her laughter scraping against the cotton that coated her mouth as she truly lost herself in the emotional grease fire that was her mental state, unable to stop how far it spread as warm tears rolled down her cheeks. It became manic at the quirk of Vox's brow, his patience worn thin by her hysterics, and Clover found room to speak as a fresh, furious tension spread across her skin. Her voice was loud, too loud, trembling as she shouted through her giggles, but it grew stronger with every word that left her lips.
"You're delusional. I will never, no matter how much you hurt me, or how much you offer me, choose you. Now get the fuck out, Wa-" Clover caught the name in her throat, choking on the realization to keep it from becoming a reality; Her voice cracked as she rushed to fix the mistake. "-While you still have the chance."
Vox's irritation shifted with the slow widening of his smile, and Clover felt her heart stop yet again. She did not breathe, for she was too afraid that the quickened pace of it would only reveal her further, though she wasn't sure her lungs would be able to make room for air anyway. The tight grip of panic in her chest straightened her back as knots formed along her spine and Clover pushed further into the tension, squaring her shoulders and allowing her chin to jut forward into a stance she was far too familiar with, if only as a viewer.
The television flickered, changing channels once, then twice, before returning to Vox's projection; Clover thought she saw herself on the screen, but it passed by too quickly. The image that returned to the screen was a cheerful one, Vox's eyes bright with a glimmer of pleased recognition that rose goosebumps on her skin. With a deliberate step over the clutter of her camera, Vox moved closer, ignoring the sharp turn of Vaggie's spear towards him and the bristling of Husker's fur.
"You have a good rest of your night, Clover." Vox extended his hand to her, palm open for a polite farewell. "I hope to see you again soon."
The gesture hung there for a moment too long; He knew she would never take it, and she knew it was simply a final pressure to the point he was trying to make. If Clover had been in any other state of mind, it might have irritated her enough to bite back instead of just staring at him with a wide eyed expression she hoped read as distaste. Vox retracted his hand sharply, and again there was that creaking of mistreated metal. Valentino was already moving by the time Vox turned to follow, the small jerk of his head towards the door calling Velvette to follow. The doll's faux feline tale swung as she skipped to Clover's side, her phone finally finding its way into her purse as she wiggled her fingers farewell.
"Thanks for the invite, dolly."
As soon as they'd disappeared out the open door, the room rippled with murmuring from the masses of Pentagram City. Clover could feel her friends' worried hands reaching out for her, but each one was shaken off with a shrug of her shoulders as she stepped towards the remains of her camera. Her chest clenched at the pieces that lay scattered at her feet, and finally Clover allows her legs to give out beneath her as regret pushes her to her knees. Silent tears roll down her cheeks as she gathers her skirt in her hands and places the broken bits into its folds, ignoring the soft voice of Cyrus in her ear until she'd picked up every last piece she can find, and only then does she take the hand that's offered to her.
"Cloves-"
Cyrus goes quiet at the stern shake of her head, Clover's lips pressed together in a hard line to hold back the sobs that shake her shoulders. Her sore ankle throbs as she limps to the bar and places the remains of her camera upon it, her thumb tracing the empty space the lens left behind. Clover's eye catches a flash of white as she places the body on the bartop and she pulls a polaroid, half developed and blurred, from the ejection slot. Her thumb traces the wobbly outline of her friends almost reverently, their silhouettes braced around one that she assumes must be her own beneath the picture's clear coating. It's placed with the rest of the night's polaroids, pinned to the streamers that decorated the bars pillars beside a photo of Charlie and Vaggie bobbing for apples; She doesn't dare look for the face she desperately wants to see smiling back at her in the photographs, no matter how much her heart aches at his absence, and grabs a bottle from behind the bar instead.
"Party's over!" Husker's voice rises above the murmuring crowd as she passes, his head barely turning to the thankful touch of her hand to his shoulder as she stumbles towards the staircase. "Everyone go the fuck home."