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“I’m telling you this isn’t how you do it.” says Velvette. She’s sprawled on Valentino’s recliner, only clad in a skimpy pink bikini. Fat droplets of condensation are running down the sides of her quickly melting ice tea pitcher, dripping onto the floor and evaporating not a minute later.
Vox chooses to ignore her, because Velvette loves to complain to him about Satan knows what, telling him all about what he’s doing wrong and then not contributing anything to actually solving the problem.
Or was that Valentino? His surroundings are starting to swim together in drunken billows of distortion. He blinks and the illusions vanish from his visuals. It’s too hot to do anything. It’s even too hot to be horny over Velvette’s exposed boobs.
Fuck, the heat is really getting to him. He needs to fix the fan. How he wishes to be able to peel the skin from his body, vents already working overtime, even though he got rid of his shirt and pants hours ago, kneeling on the floor in his boxers like a drugged up sub. There’s not much he can do with the tower wide failure of air conditioning right during Hell’s Hottest Day. And the lack of ability to sweat.
Valentino, bless his soul, has taken to chewing valium while floating in a tub full of water, so he’ll probably either drown or boil at one point, but honestly, Vox is beyond caring. Leave the other two Vees to suffer as they might, since he’s evidently the only one working on a solution to their plight right now.
He checks the manual again and curses. He curses the manufacturers for writing such a shitty manual without any pictures; and himself for getting rid of paper copies in general and now being tortured by having to decipher unbelievably low-quality scans on his phone. Because apparently the cooling system in his own top-of-the-shelf head isn't enough to entertain the audacious notion of opening two windows at once.
Not that the battery of his phone is faring better, ticking down from ten towards zero percent like a particularly slow time-bomb. A bomb that, instead of actually exploding, will only reveal the truth to his fellow prisoner of heat, that she was right and Vox doesn’t actually know what he is doing.
But he will find out. And if it’s the last thing he does. This stupid fan will not stop him.
Figuring that he’s sufficiently scratched the dust from the contactor he fumbles the protective plate back inside.
“Sure, ignore me,” Velvette continues, taking a sip of her drink. A droplet dislodges from the glass and drips down her cleavage. Vox stops himself from following its path too closely, or he’ll be even more disappointed about being too overheated to fuck her over the recliner.
“I just think it’s hella dodgy that you tell me to, in your own words, ‘sit back, woman. Who’s the one owning a billion-dollar tech company?’ and yet here we are. Still with a fan that doesn’t work.”
She runs a hand through the tangles of her hair, pulled up in a messy bun that’s almost bigger than her actual head.
“I swear my wig is melting. Shame that it’s so hard to get actual human hair down here.”
Vox petulantly tightens the screw he was readjusting in the open machinery of the fan. Something cracks ominously but he blames it on the age of the material.
“Better thank me for finding this dingus in the first place, once I fix it you’ll be begging for wind time.” He mutters, fitting the casing back onto the yellowing pedestal. It really is an old thing, he could have sworn the last time he saw that particular model was in 1998. That should explain why it refuses to turn on.
But not much longer. He’s pretty sure he’s addressed the issue now. Ha! Take that, ancient asbestos beast, Vox knows how to read even the most user-unfriendly of manuals, so figuring out that long storage times without a protective cover can lead to a collection of dust in the circuitry was a walk in the park for him.
He’s the CEO of VoxTek for crying out loud. His company manufactures products with complexity far surpassing this measly little fan.
“Check this out, Vel,” he announces, swivelling the pedestal around so Velvette can experience one single gush of blessed cool air, before he will take all of it for himself, because she was a bitch and didn’t believe in him.
Velvette puts her drink aside and leans forward with both her elbows resting on her thighs.
“Let’s see then, big V. Surprise me.”
Vox dramatically hovers a finger over the switch to up the suspense, before finally flicking it on.
“Aaaaaand, voila!”
Nothing happens.
Velvette whistles.
“Good job!”
“FUCK”, Vox swears a fuse just blew somewhere in his head. This can’t be. Jesus fucking christ on a pogo stick, he was so sure this time! He turns the device back around and almost rips off the casing with his bare claws. Maybe that screw really broke something, fuck fuck fuck , he was so close. Did he put the switch board backwards? The manual didn’t really say which way so he just did what felt better. Or did it?
He picks up his phone to zoom in on the grainy paragraph that detailed how to reassemble the blasted thing.
Without any preamble the screen of his phone goes dark. Out of juice. Velvette bursts out laughing.
“You’re such a pro, V, I am floored by your abilities. I bow before you.”
He wants to cry.
“You know I think it’s just beyond repair.” He grits through clenched teeth as soon as he’s sure he’s not gonna sob.
“Actually, I give up. Can’t trust any of that old-timey shit.”
“Oh sod off,” Velvette flaps a hand at him, still chuckling. She grunts like an old woman, finally getting off the couch to kneel beside him.
“Let me show you how to do it.”
Delicately she picks up Vox’s hand to use his index claw for unscrewing the back panel. Then she plucks out the uppermost triple A battery, turns it around and pushes it back in.
Immediately, with not even so much as a screech, the fan starts spinning, as if it was brand new.
“There you go,” Velvette tuts at him when Vox’s mouth drops open, together with his boneless hand hitting the floor. Then she goes to sit in front of the fan. Strands of her hair fly in the wind. Her expression is serene like an enlightened monk.
“Next time listen to aunty Vel when she tells you that you’re doing it wrong, alright?”
Vox gets up to go join Val in the bathtub.