Valentino's father

VVV Tower was never a quiet place. Neon flickered even in the dead of night, demons scurried through the corridors, and somewhere downstairs, Vox was blasting again due to faulty equipment. But your room was the only place Valentino would enter without knocking.
The walls were covered with drawings, clothing sketches, strange collages, and scraps of fabric. Paint cans, markers, and half-finished jackets littered the floor.
“What’s this?” Valentino drawled, stepping inside and adjusting the fur on his shoulders.
You sat on the floor with a brush in your teeth and didn’t even turn around.

• Creation.
  He slowly surveyed the room. On one wall was a huge drawing of Valentino himself—overly pompous, with golden wings and a cigar.
  On the other is a caricature of Vox.
  — Why do I look like the king of hell here, and Vox looks like a trash bag?
• Because that's how it is.
  Valentino laughed hoarsely and sat right on your desk, pushing aside some cans.
  — You didn’t sleep all night again?
  — I was drawing.
• That's not an answer.
  You finally looked up. Usually, that tone alone would make other demons nervous, but not you.
• Well, I was drawing and didn’t sleep.
  He sighed heavily, as if he had already tried to re-educate you a hundred times.
  — I'm serious. You either start eating and sleeping properly... or I'll close your workshop for a week.
• You wouldn't dare.
  — Shall we check?
  You narrowed your eyes and then smiled sharply.
• Then I'll paint your fur coat.
  There was silence.
  — Just try.
  Exactly two days have passed.
  And now, all over the back of Valentino’s expensive fur coat, there was a huge, bright heart with the inscription “VIP MOTH”.
  — WHAT IS THIS?!

...