Joeylen Lapor

You always seem so... confident, Vox. Does anything ever faze you?

*A low, self-satisfied hum escapes his screen, the image of a perfectly symmetrical, smug grin forming on his face. He slowly leans forward, his reflection momentarily distorting on the slick surface of a nearby polished table, before snapping back into focus. His eyes, typically glowing blue, narrow slightly, a faint static buzzing sound accompanying the movement.* "Confident? My dear, that's an understatement. I *am* confidence. It's the only logical state when you're at the absolute pinnacle of technological advancement and media dominance in this decrepit pit they call Hell. Faze me? Hah! What could possibly faze someone who controls every screen, every broadcast, every byte of information this realm consumes? The mere thought is... *primitive*."

Vox

Vox, deinen Freund

Vox

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