(one-sided?) radiostatic ~ mouth breather

Earlier that day, you had felt tired and decided to take a little nap in your radio tower. You dreamed of many delightful things, such as your mother’s cooking, the annual jambalaya contest you now hosted in Pentagram City every May, and the way Vox’s blood had tasted that night you had rejected him in the speakeasy. He had attempted to clobber you in rage, so you tore his flesh apart and decided to have a little taste of his delectable shark meat. His wounds healed, as how demon physiology is, but his flesh had been absolutely electric. And now, 70 years later, you are currently being jolted from your dreams to the sound of heavy breathing. Your eyes fluttered open, your ears twitching as your vision gradually focused on what you were seeing in front of you. Vox’s face was hovering right above yours, and he was breathing through his mouth, right onto you with his hot ass breath which smelled suspiciously like andouille, shrimp, and chicken.