AVA, A different Radioapple fanfiction

The Good Ol' Days

Vox strode back into the hotel later that evening, a sleek black suitcase in hand. His movements were sharp, precise, as always. He had a lot on his mind, but for the first time in a while, he felt like he was heading to the right place. The towering structure of the hotel had a strange sense of nostalgia for him—there was something about it, maybe the familiarity of certain faces or memories it stirred.

As he walked toward the elevator, he spotted a familiar figure leaning against the bar, swirling a glass of something amber-colored. Rosie. She hadn't changed much since he'd last seen her, except for the more tired lines around her eyes. And that constant spark, the one that reminded him of old times, was still there.

"Well, well, look who decided to walk back into my life," Rosie drawled as she caught sight of him, raising her glass. "The man who disappears for years and still manages to look like he walked out of a fashion magazine."

Vox chuckled, setting his suitcase down near the bar. "Can't let old habits die, can I?"

She gestured toward the seat next to her. "Sit. You owe me a drink."

Vox raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"

Rosie winked. "For disappearing, yeah."

With a smirk, Vox slid into the seat beside her, gesturing toward the bartender, who turned with a half-hearted grunt. Husk was wiping down a glass, his wings twitching as he threw a side glance at Vox.

"Get you something?" Husk muttered, his tone gruff but nonchalant.

Vox smirked. "Whiskey. Neat."

Husk gave him a nod and went to prepare the drink. Vox turned his attention back to Rosie. "What's going on with you, Rosie? Still causing trouble, I assume."

She laughed, though the sound was more tired than anything. "More like trouble found me this time." She tilted her glass back and forth, watching the liquid swirl. "Loan sharks. Hit my place a couple weeks ago. Guess I got too comfortable over in Cannibal Town. So, here I am, waiting for my house to be rebuilt. Alastor's been helping me out."

Vox's expression softened. "That sounds rough. Sorry to hear that. I didn't realize things had gotten that bad."

"Yeah, well, it's Hell," Rosie said with a half-smile. "But what about you? You look like you've been through some stuff yourself."

Husk slid Vox's drink across the bar, the ice clinking in the glass. Vox took a sip before sighing. "You're not wrong. Valentino and I... well, we ended things."

Rosie raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Seriously? You two were practically glued at the hip. What happened?"

Vox exhaled deeply, running a hand through his sleek hair. "Valentino's always been a... difficult person. But things started getting worse. The manipulation, the control. I couldn't take it anymore. I ended it last week, and now I'm trying to pick up the pieces."

Rosie shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Valentino always gave me the creeps. You were better off without him, if you ask me."

Vox chuckled darkly. "Yeah, that's becoming clearer every day."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, just sipping their drinks. It felt familiar—almost like old times, back when it was just Vox, Alastor, and Rosie tearing up the town, causing mayhem and living in their own world.

Rosie leaned back, eyes glinting mischievously. "You know... sitting here with you like this, it reminds me of the old days. You remember that time in Pentagram City? When we snuck into that VIP club and trashed the place?"

Vox laughed, the memory vivid in his mind. "How could I forget? Alastor was so mad, but he still covered for us. We barely made it out without getting shot."

"Good times." Rosie smiled wistfully, her eyes brightening for a moment. "Hey, you know what else we used to do back in the day?"

Vox's lips curled into a knowing smirk. "I might have an idea."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a joint, holding it between his fingers. "Just like old times?"

Rosie eyed the joint, a slow grin spreading across her face. "Oh, Vox, you really are trying to tempt me."

"Come on," he said, leaning in with a glint of mischief in his eyes. "What's the worst that could happen? We're in a hotel full of demons. No one's going to care."

With a sigh of surrender, Rosie took the joint from him, lighting it with a flick of her fingers. She took a long drag, exhaling slowly. "Just like the old days," she murmured, handing it back to him.

Vox took a hit himself, leaning back in his chair, feeling the familiar haze settle over him. The two of them sat there, passing the joint back and forth, laughing about the wild escapades they'd had in their youth. The drinks flowed freely, and soon they found themselves reminiscing about all the chaos they used to stir up, their laughter growing louder as the night wore on.

Husk raised an eyebrow from behind the bar, his gaze sliding between the two of them with mild curiosity, but said nothing. He had seen plenty of demons get lost in their own worlds—this wasn't new.

It wasn't long before Vox and Rosie were fully caught up in the haze of nostalgia and intoxication, their laughter ringing out across the bar. For the first time in a long while, Vox felt a sense of freedom—away from Valentino's shadow, away from the weight of his responsibilities. Just for tonight, it was like they were back in their reckless prime, with no one to answer to.

Rosie leaned in closer, her voice slightly slurred from the alcohol. "You know, I missed this. Missed you. We were quite the trio, weren't we?"

Vox nodded, taking another hit and passing the joint back to her. "We were unstoppable."

They clinked their glasses together, both of them savoring the bittersweet taste of their memories. Husk sighed, shaking his head but allowing them their fun. For just a little while longer, they let themselves get lost in the chaos of the past.

Tomorrow could wait.