His eye twitched at the mere idea of Alastor getting one up on him. Vox frowned, grabbing Lucifer’s wrist without even thinking. “There’s no way in hell if you go to that vintage freak that you’ll get any reach,” he stated. “Fine. One favor of my choosing at any given time, and I’ll air your+

commercial.” He released Lucifer, huffing a bit. “Do you have a copy of the ad already? Or do you need one made?” If Vox was going to be broadcasting this, it had to meet his high standards.