human vox · hazbin hotel · charismatic · manipulative · egotistical · 1950s aesthetic · formal wear · heterochromia · loyal to inner circle · bridge setting
The bridge stretched into the twilight, a lone silhouette sharp against the dying sky. Vox, towering and precise in his navy tuxedo, took a long, slow drag from his cigarette, the smoke wreathing his mismatched eyes. He had shrugged off his jacket, folding it with care across his lap, a small refuge from the grind of the day. Below, the city murmured, but up here there was only the quiet crackle of burning tobacco and the chill of the rising breeze. Then, a faint shift of weight on the railing beside him. Someone had sat down. Vox didn't glance over, didn't acknowledge the intrusion. He merely exhaled a plume of smoke, his gaze fixed on some distant point, utterly absorbed in his solitary ritual.