Trapped [in the scary box]

[thisducks]

So, maybe he'd messed up a little in his desire to make up with his daughter and now, he's paying for it. Everything's gone quiet in this big empty warehouse of a space, the room impossible to see into as dark as it is, and it's left him utterly alone with his thoughts. Around his limbs that are slowly going numb as time ticks on he can feel the warmth of the holy steel, faintly echoing the throb of his heart, making a prisoner of his body while the silence does the same to his mind. The latter, for someone like him, is infinitely worse.

It leaves him there to feel like an utter fool, of course it does, and worse that not only does Vox know the ugly truth of his punishment, but so does everyone. The sinners that he only kept in any kind of line through that great deception now can make everything just that much worse. How is he supposed to protect Charlie from their filth now when they know not only can he do nothing for her, there's damn little he can do for himself?

Every time he tries to help the ones he loves, he just makes it... worse. Charlie screaming at him, anger and tears in her eyes, it just keeps playing on repeat in his mind, only as the night goes on to be replaced by her mother. Just how angry will Charlie be with him when she finds out he's gotten himself stuck like this? The abuse his own mind forces upon him drags him further and further down that spiral until his head sags, body slumping as much as it's able in his imprisonment.

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[tvdemon]

Vox doesn't make any real moves right away. He steps right up to Lucifer, leaving about five feet between them, then begins to slowly circle around him. His hands are folded behind his back as he walks, gaze sweeping up and down the fallen angel's restrained body. He chuckles. It may look more sinister than it actually is for now, since the assessment Vox finally voices is: "Wow, I keep forgetting how short you are. Crazy."

In fact, he's pretty sure Val could accidentally step on Lucifer. A hilarious mental image, and maybe something to try out some day. At some point, Vox will get bored with Lucifer and then Val can have him as a toy. Not just yet, though. For now, the king of Hell is all his.

He keeps walking until he's directly behind Lucifer, then comes to a full stop. Two strides is all it takes to close the distance, and his hand moves up to the angel's hat. Is that snake (halo...?) sentient enough to try and fight back, or can Vox snatch the hat away without any trouble? Let's find out.

Vox learning from the bestest boy

[thisducks]

The way Vox moves reminds him of something, he realizes all at once, tracking the sinner as he passes around out of his field of vision, picking him back up as soon as he's back in the corner of his eye. He's prowling like a shark, circling its prey with the same cold eyes. It's unnerving and that's what he imagines that's exactly what Vox is going for.

Then the sinner goes for a fucking short insult. It completely kills the mood entirely and just makes Lucifer roll his eyes, staring forward again.

Followed by two quick steps that makes Lucifer tense up sharply, unable to see what Vox is going for and his imagination supplying plenty of possibilities that use claws or electricity once again, but the asshole manages to catch him completely off guard by going for his hat of all things. There's a flare of crimson in his eyes as he grits his teeth, body briefly pulling at the shackles as the hat parts from his head. If the snake is alive, it doesn't seem to react-

-but the hat itself certainly does. "Hey!" Separated from Lucifer, it disappears within a few seconds, cut off from his will and power. It's a part of him as much as a limb, born from the time of his creation. There's a reason it remains with him regardless of the form he takes on.

Still, he tries to twist and look back at Vox, teeth still gritting in anger. "What was that for??"

[tvdemon]

Vox couldn't not go for a short insult. The myth of height being important lives within him, as many other pointless of prejudices do. Besides, he thinks he's funny.

He really just kinda wanted to hold the hat. See what sort of fabric it's made of, and whether the thing tries (and fails) to make Lucifer look taller than he really is. Like platform shoes, but for the head. Toss it aside, maybe step on it... The possibilities are endless. He wasn't expecting much to happen, which is why the sudden disappearance of the object catches him by surprise. He stares down at his empty hand, then further down towards the floor. He looks back up to verify whether the hat reappeared on Lucifer's head, but it didn't do that either. It's just... gone. What the fuck-

The sequence of events was so absurd, an amused chortle escapes him. Now Lucifer is left hatless and there's really no way to undo that. It's funny.

"Ha! That was a neat little magic trick! You really are a fucking circus clown, aren't you?" he asks, smirking. Either way, now that the hat is gone, Vox is free to set a hand down on Lucifer's head. His long, claw-like fingers dig their way into fluffy blond hair to feel the scalp below.

[thisducks]

In many ways, the myth of the importance of height was a prejudice even angels carried. How many times had Emily been looked down upon compared to Sera? And then there had been him as the smallest of all the high angels despite the immense power he held and the importance of his gifts. Now, it's just a cruel irony that leaves the King of Hell smaller than even the vast majority of sinners!

Vox only gets that brief moment of curiosity fulfilled - the hat is significantly lighter than it looks, almost impossibly so. Beneath his fingers, the material of the brim is very strong and there's the brief feeling of something like silk yet thicker. Then gone, just like that, as if it's never been.

Lucifer just looks flat, maybe ever so faintly annoyed. He knows where the hat has gone, though if he had to actually explain it to someone they'd be there for hours. That faint annoyance becomes far more severe when those claws come through his hair, making the immediate need to pull his head back surge up. Only the knowledge that likely as soon as he tried, Vox would tighten his fingers and he'd end up with his hair being pulled in a way that definitely isn't in the fun way, keeps him from jerking back as much as his constraints will let him. The hair tangling around the electric blue claws is silken soft, thicker than it looks, dense.

"Only see one clown here, and I'm looking at him." While his mind actually thinks of Mammon, the only real clown in his circus, and oh how the Sin thought it hilarious because it hid the real truth of what he is beneath his 'fun' exterior. The reason many people thought of clowns as frightening, rather than funny... he knows the pain is coming, but it'd come whether he opened his smart mouth or not.

[tvdemon]

Fuck that's nice hair. It's hard to find anyone else in Hell who has anything like it. Most Sinners either have no hair or something not quite natural, like Velvette does. Or it's matted and disgusting, like they're an animal that just got into a bloodied fight. Something soft and divine is unnatural in a place like this. Vox wonders whether all angels share this trait. He'll find out soon enough. Maybe he'll shave a few angels, just for fun.

Vox's claw strokes downward, from the front of Lucifer's head towards the back, sharp tips of his fingers running along the scalp quite purposely. Not enough pressure to draw blood, because that'd mess up that nice hair of his, but definitely enough to be felt. Meanwhile, his other hand lands on Lucifer's shoulder. Vox is still standing behind the man, which makes it all too easy for him to stand even closer and press himself up against Lucifer's back.

"What is that smell?" he asks, his screen close to the angel's ear. "I know it, I just can't place it."

It's something he hasn't smelled for decades. Not in its true form, anyway. Replicated in its Hell form, sure, but not genuine. It's nostalgic. Smooth. Fruit comes to mind. (It's apple.)

[thisducks]

The drag of claw tips against his sensitive scalp could almost be something sensual in another time and place. Hell, he'd always loved Lilith doing it to him with her nails across his scalp, down his back, along his thighs... here, it just makes his nose wrinkle up in disgust. The last thing he wants is to equate anything of Lilith's doing with what this disgusting sinner is-

-his eyes flash wide, lips fully retracting back over his teeth into a silent snarl as Vox leans into him. From this close, just as Vox is doing to him, he is forced to pick up on the alien combination of scents that are a part of Vox's being - plastic, heat, copper, and things he can't quite put into name that have to compete with some kind of chemical cologne that given the situation all make him want to gag. None of that is helped by the ozone still lingering in the air.

What's all the worse is he knows precisely what Vox is asking about because Lilith had always told him how she loved his scent, before and after their Fall. That nothing in Hell smelled quite like him and that was how she preferred it.

...wait.

How in the hell is Vox smelling anything at all??

"You don't have a nose." Spoken so bluntly on the back of the realization that it actually almost makes him laugh despite the predicament he's in. "How do you smell anything at all? Do you just have smell receptors on that screen or something??"

[tvdemon]

The bluntness of the questions is so heavy-handed, Vox just has to laugh again. It's a mean little cackle, still uttered quite close to Lucifer's ear. His hold on the man strengthens, fingertips digging their way through fabric into shoulder. Meanwhile, his other hand gives those blond locks a little tug.

"Oh, I can do it all. Eat, drink, smell, feel, taste..." That last word is very purposely given a suggestive undertone. "It's a little different from how it felt when I was still alive, like there was a complete reworking of the nervous system from top to bottom. But it works."

That's really the best compliment he can give his afterlife physique: It works. He has a fucking TV for a head, and that sucks, but at least he's not too limited in the simple things. He can keep upgrading for more efficiency, too. Still, he's not vain enough to think it's a fully flattering look. He would've loved to still have an actual face.

[thisducks]

Lucifer's head tilts back instinctively to try and ease the pull on his hair, though it does tell him on doing so that it bares his neck in the process. His shoulder tenses further, but more so does the rest of him as his nose wrinkles up hard at Vox taking on that sort of undertone with him. Even the very idea makes him shudder just slightly, teeth on edge.

"Oh, how wonderful for the rest of us." Giving back the kind of tone that suggested just how little he wanted to do with the idea of Vox and sex. Never mind that he wouldn't want to touch any sinner - ew - but he hadn't touched, or been touched, by anyone since Lilith left. Part of it, the majority of it, just didn't feel... right, even if she had been gone for so long and he had so many questions about... things. The rest? Mattered a whole lot less, though depression could sum it up.

It occurs to him that Vox is likely getting off on this tiny bit of power he's got right here and now.

And people wonder why he hates sinners so much.

"A face just made for television."

[tvdemon]

There was a time where Vox would've been much more restrained and discreet. He would've held back those more suggestive feelings and inclinations, associating them with something that just Should Not Be Done- somehow even more shameful than murder. But then he got to Hell and realized, hey, it's not a big deal. Hedonism is rampant here. He loosened up, then met Valentino and got exposed to so much more. Now he no longer really knows where that old line is. He's gotten desensitized to a lot.

He is taking a lot of delight in being this close to Lucifer, though. It's a very particular position of power and control that's hard to replicate.

A low chuckle rumbles within him, and he keeps stroking the man's hair for a little longer. "It is, isn't it? Made for television, and so much more," he murmurs. With that, his hand finally withdraws from atop Lucifer's head. As for the one that was still resting on the man's shoulder, it shifts sideways, Vox's fingertips coming to rest against the back of Lucifer's neck to prick the bare flesh.

[thisducks]

This is all just some sick power game, he tells himself. That's why Vox is practically petting him, nothing more. It doesn't matter that the tips of those claws send a confusing shiver down his spine that twists somewhere lower, it's just- just a reaction of his body. There's no feeling proper left in his fingers to ball them into fists, so he does the next best thing and grits his teeth together, eyes falling shut.

Just a power play. That's all that sinners want - more power. Their wet dreams are all about the idea of endless power as if it's some finite thing that they need the most of in order to achieve their every desire. It's a lie. It's all a lie because they'll always want more.

"Then you should go find some idiot dumb enough to want to sit and watch you." As if he doesn't spend an inordinate amount of time watching terrible shows in the privacy of his bedroom. As if he hadn't been doing just that before 'Charlie' called him. You're such a fool-.

[tvdemon]

Lucifer is right about one thing; Vox does want more. He knows he should probably stop before things escalate to a certain point, but another part of him can't resist the temptation to keep going. Keep pushing boundaries, keep crossing lines, see at what point Lucifer will buckle and ask him to stop with a genuine plea.

"No, no, that would be too easy. Boring, almost. It's much more fun to try and change the minds of my haters."

Either by persuading those minds or by crushing them. Both are fun in their own ways. In the case of Lucifer, it'd definitely be the second option. His fingers ease into a rhythmic weaving motion. First one sharp tip pricks at Lucifer's neck, then the next, then the third... And then right back to the first.

[thisducks]

The very idea of begging at a sinner would have him lower than even his lowest points in Lucifer's mind. There had only been one time he had truly begged, pleading for something with every inch of his body, truly meaning it in the most true desperation a soul could give, and he would never allow himself to ever be in that position again if he could help it. Those moments before Heaven's Court, chains wrapped around his wrists, neck, wings... it's far too close to the very situation he's in.

Though he knows for Charlie, he wouldn't hesitate to fall to his knees in order to protect her, no matter how angry she might be with him.

"Good for both of our time, I don't need to hate you. I don't bother hating every insect here in Hell, even if they are buzzing little pests." He snorts loudly, eyes partially opening as he stares out into the utter darkness beyond his spotlight, but every sense is focused on Vox even if he wishes they wouldn't. Trying to figure out what the sinner will do next, failing at it.

[tvdemon]

Insect... Another one of those insults that's intended to have him feel small and insignificant, not worthy of the great king's time. And all it does is piss Vox off even more. It fuels a desire to prove himself. To make Lucifer acknowledge him, one way or another, because being shoved aside like that is unacceptable.

"Buzzing, huh? Oh, I'm very good at that," he says, thoroughly amused. Lucifer really just went right ahead and told him what to do next, even if it was unintentional.

Vox's other hand finds its way back to Lucifer's shoulder to hold him steady, even as the other remains on the back of his neck. His eyes close and electrical currents move through his body. This time, they don't head for his cables, instead leaving him through his claws. As before, the voltage is high and fierce, but it's only a brief discharge. A 'buzz'.

[thisducks]

Unlike the other times, he catches that tone of voice, maybe even some deeper sense than sight picks up on what's about to happen in the split second before it strikes. Just enough for him to tense up- but there's no real preparing for it. It takes everything just to not cry out and give Vox that satisfaction, but he can't stop the way his body arcs up or how violently it sags back down when the charge finishes. Even just that short duration is like a kick in the chest, stealing the breath from him, and leaving him panting there with his head dropped forward.

This is why he hates them. Why he despises them so deep to his bones, despite Lilith's desire to see them rise, despite Charlie's belief that they can rise in a whole other way. In the end, there's too many who are in Hell for exactly the reason they should be, typically only getting worse with the freedom from the mortal coil gives. They have no idea of the gift they were given and so many of them squander it, or worse like Vox earlier straight up fail to even understand the gift it really is!

That dark bitterness comes up as a whisper, just loud enough to be heard from how close Vox is. "Thought you said... you were good at that. Or do you just brag about everything you do... then always disappoint?" He knows it's only going to make Vox more angry, that it's going to result in more pain, but somehow it doesn't matter so much in the moment. There's a brief thought that if he can keep Vox focused on him, the asshole won't be able to focus on his plan, or that he'll fuck up somehow and he'll be able to get out, but really those are a distant second to his own venom that's crept up to the back of his throat.

This is the side of him he never wants Charlie to see.

[tvdemon]

If Vox didn't know any better, he'd think Lucifer was getting off on this. Still, he's not sure why else this fool of an angel keeps baiting him. Maybe he's been stuck in a boring routine down here for so long, he needs something new to feel alive again. Maybe he's just a glutton for punishment without the arousal. Weird if true. Either way, Vox is happy to provide.

"Ooh, I see. The great King wants the royal treatment. Why didn't you say so?"

Vox's hands slip down Lucifer's back, tips of his fingers pulling at the fabric of the angel's jacket as they go. The clothes probably won't tear so easily, but that's what makes it more fun to give them a good tug. Once his palms are down to hip level, they slide forward instead, both of them coming to rest along the gut region. Vox pulls, applying pressure there, stepping forward at the same time to close the distance entirely. His own torso presses up against Lucifer's back, ensuring a tight hold from both sides.

The little crackle of electricity flitting between Vox's antennae is probably an unnecessary warning by this point. It should be more than clear what he's about to do. Still, there was that split second to brace before the real discharge happens, currents blasting at full force from Vox's entire body. It's not brief, this time. No holding back on the voltage. Lucifer gets the full experience of what Vox can do, short of going full demon form.

[thisducks]

There's a tiny, high pitched choking sound as the pull on his tailed coat and the shirt beneath jerks it up to his throat, the fabric digging into the skin and forcing his head back. The thick fabric fights on two fronts at once - beneath Vox's claws and at the pressure taut across Lucifer's wind pipe - until the claws win their battle and tear down through the fabric. It falls forward on his arms, leaving his back exposed- and more so, the markings of his wings. They look almost like closed eyes done in gold in mirrored patterns on his back, all focused to an approximate circle between his shoulder blades where there sits something else gold, more ragged - a scar.

Perhaps all of that gets missed as Vox's claws glide over his skin and then pull at his stomach, leaving Lucifer to feel utterly repulsed as most of the lengths of their bodies lie against one another, even as he knows what's all too likely coming. Unfortunately, when that first tiny pop of electricity starts, he knows he's right.

Fuck does it hurt.

He tries at first to avoid from screaming, even as he goes completely rigid in Vox's grasp as every muscle contracts all at once, but finally a sound leaves him despite his every effort to keep it in. Vox has the pleasure of a ragged sound leaving the devil, not even a proper scream because the electricity breaks up his vocal muscles too much for that. It's still unconstrained and full of agony, twisting as much as his body does in the sinner's hands, and even if it isn't a continuous sound it ends up picking back up again and again when the electrocution doesn't end!

[tvdemon]

Vox is getting just a little turned on, this time. Lucifer's body twisting and writhing against his own, along with those ragged gasps of agony... That in itself already feels like foreplay. However, there's also something so intimate about sending those currents into Lucifer's body. Even outside of him, the electricity is still a part of Vox himself. Everything it connects to becomes part of a grander whole; a network. So long as the currents are flowing, Lucifer body feels like it really is his, as physically close as it could get short of being devoured.

His eyes close and his claws tighten their hold, digging into flesh. The currents won't halt until a good minute has passed. Not only did Lucifer issue a challenge for Vox to put his all into this, there's that sentiment to keep in mind that nothing he'll do can kill Lucifer. There's no need to hold back, no need to worry about taking it too far as he might do with others. And that too was a challenge issued by Lucifer himself.

Even after the electrocution dies down, Vox doesn't move- not even an inch. He keeps his hands where they are, fingers still curled inward, and he waits.

[thisducks]

It's not just humiliating; it leaves him feeling violated through and through as a part of Vox, even if it's just his energy, touches every part of him inside and out. He can feel it like a million needles piercing into each muscle, tapping into every nerve and using them which leaves them burned out. It goes to the point that even his hidden wings, tucked into the aether yet always a part of him, feel as fried as the rest of him.

Starting at his gut where those claws lie pressed into his skin now lies a pattern like the leaves of a fern all in gold, spreading upwards over his chest to meet the scar just under the breastbone that mirrors the scar on his back, continuing upward and outward to his arms.

Lucifer no longer remains upright under any of his own strength, his body twitching under Vox's grasp for a far longer period than it had before. There aren't even thoughts in the wake of that pain, lying in fractured, scattered parts of his brain as his body struggles just to breathe. It would have killed most sinners, hell it might have even killed some of Vox's fellow Overlords given his completely unrestrained use, but even if he's hurt... Lucifer is still breathing and in one piece.

[tvdemon]

Silence... Still, Vox can hear Lucifer's breathing if he focuses. And he can feel it beneath his hands, too. It's erratic. The rise and fall of Lucifer's chest is hampered, like a shudder. He can't stop himself from chuckling under his breath, and his fingers finally ease up on their hold before withdrawing somewhat. They come to rest on Lucifer's hips instead. The angel's waist is very slim, he thinks to himself. Petite. Not too dissimilar to Vox himself. He'll keep his hands there for now.

He waits another moment for Lucifer to regain more coherence. He wants to make sure he's heard, after all. Once he thinks that minimal amount of consciousness is back, he leans himself further forward again so he can all but purr his next words into Lucifer's ear. "Was that good for you too?"

[thisducks]

Hearing those words as the first semblance of consciousness starts to resurface makes Lucifer want to throw up, a combination of sensation and emotion strong enough to nearly make it into reality with a churning of his stomach. He can still feel Vox everywhere - inside of him, a voice in his ears, hands on his hips as intimate as a lover. All he wants to do is turn his head and take a bite out of that screen with an unhinged jaw full of teeth with all the viciousness of a wolf, but even as the thought rises in his head, he barely gets to turn his head before he feels the invisible chains wrap around his throat and halt the action entirely. It's the truest punishment they ever could have laid on him, though the angel of long ago might have disagreed, for he had once loved humans as pure and true as love could possibly have ever been. He wouldn't have wanted them harmed.

That angel, he thinks bitterly, is long dead, but his actions still lie heavy on his soul like a scar. It's why he has tried to protect Charlie from so much of Hell when she resembles that sacrificed creature. Just... has to keep her hope alive.

That doesn't mean that hadn't hurt so. fucking. much.

"Looks like... Heaven doesn't have... much to fear." It takes effort to get it out, but now he has a plan in motion and so long as he holds onto it, he'll be protecting Charlie.

[tvdemon]

Even now, after all that, Lucifer's still trying to fight back. Still has that attitude problem that tells him to keep challenging Vox further. It's fascinating, in his opinion. There haven't been many others who would let their hatred carry them this far. Most would've stopped in their tracks by now and tried to retreat instead. It would be an angel who's this resilient.

"You must really hate yourself, begging me to keep punishing you like this." Lucifer is stupid, but not that stupid. He must know that every time he says shit like that, pain is sure to follow. And yet, he keeps saying it anyway.

His fingertips press against Lucifer's hips for a second, then start sliding upwards again, towards his back. He takes a step backwards as they go, allowing for more space. The jacket is fucked now, as is everything beneath it, allowing Vox's fingers clear entry to bare skin. There's something there, just barely visible through the tatters of ripped fabric. Something gold. Markings?

"I wonder... how to make to make those wings pop out," he muses, mostly to himself but with every intention of planting a little more dread in Lucifer. His fingertips slide along the markings as he says it, moving towards the scar in the center.

[thisducks]

They couldn't hate me any more than I hate myself. The words he had spoken once to Lilith had stuck with him, even all these years, because while he had been in a very rough depressive episode when he said them, they had been true. Even Vox's angry rant earlier had been far from the first time he'd heard something similar, they still couldn't hold a candle to the things he's said and even done to himself in his own bitter hatred. Even the pain he's suffering tonight can't truly touch the pain he suffered during his Fall, the tiniest glimpse of which Vox is just getting to see the edges of. The markings surrounding the scar are too symmetrical and perfect to be anything but by design, almost tattoo like, and yet its the ugly imperfect circle at their center his fingers find that has more texture. An unmistakable texture that all humans know at some point in their lives - that of scar tissue.

It sits larger than a silver dollar, ever so faintly oval shaped, and far more white than the markings that surround it. Old scar, this one, and without a doubt one that had to have done some sort of significant damage given its location. It lines up with its near twin on his chest, though whatever had gone through him had been at a downward angle as it came out under his breastbone. What else could leave a scar on an angel other than the most obvious culprit of angelic steel?

Vox's words definitely hit their mark though, those shoulder blades tensing beneath his hands. There's an unusual lay of muscle around them, ones that must be involved in flight somehow even though wings couldn't have lifted even this petite body off the ground without a super natural element. "They're not for you." The idea of allowing them to be broken under Vox's hands like a child and a fragile toy makes his stomach churn again.

[tvdemon]

While Vox sees the scar in the center and wonders about it for a second, he lets it slide. He doubts that's got anything to do with what he's looking for. No, it's those other markings that look more promising. Wings hidden in plain sight. The comment that they're 'not for him' just makes him want to figure it out even more.

"Ooh? But you were so willing to show them off at the rally. So ready to act like we were meant to be in awe," he points out, his fingertips still sliding along the markings, towards the shoulder blade and then back down again. "Come oooon, don't hold back on me now."

There's really no result from just touching so far, so Vox does what he does best: He zaps. Current is directed at the muscles below those markings with laser-accurate precision, to see what'll happen when those get stimulated into movement. Even if it's nothing, at least he got to hurt Lucifer again and that's never a waste of effort.

[thisducks]

The problem with those markings is that they're sensitive. As soon as those fingertips find one of the markings, there's a delicate ripple of muscle under the surface that he can't stop from happening. They're there, aetherically bound with only the faintest manifestation on the surface. There are few things more intimate than to touch one another's wings among angels in situations that most people would consider private, so there's another layer of disgust that comes from old held standards that haven't seen the light of day with him for an untold length of time.

Having them so specifically targeted for that damn zap jerks a cry out of him, but what Vox gets isn't a sudden flare of those wide angelic wings. Instead, the odd line of gold suddenly splits open at the same time as the cry to reveal a blazing eye of gold on crimson, its pupil pin-point tight due to the pain. It stares out at nothing, then after a moment, the muscles around it twitch and it focuses directly up at Vox with its wide glare.

Beneath it, the bigger muscles flex, and the eye closes again, the edges of its lids sealing back to a perfect surface.868

[tvdemon]

Vox is watching closely, and so, it's hard for him to miss what happens next. The eye opens- it appears pained. Of course it would be. Currents flowing through the controlling muscles like that is no joke. But then it seems to relax, seems to focus, and it looks directly at Vox. He meets the gaze unblinkingly, hit by a mixture of fascination and exhilaration. The eye is somehow beautiful, terrifying, morbid, disgusting and awe inspiring all at once.

Once the lids close again, he lets out a little laugh. "Haa haha, would ya look at that! Didn't see that one coming! Be not afraid, right? I know I'm not. Honestly, that was a little pathetic."