Demon's Party [Active]

[gamblingfate.livejournal.com]

Character(s): Luxord, Zexion, Marluxia
Content: Luxord, Zexion, and Marluxia being bitchfaces, basically.
Setting: Joutenhiem Gate
Time: Monday, Afternoon
Warnings: Bitching and swearing.



"No, I don't like the look of that one - too… sensitive looking. With a piteous heart like that, the annoying creature will never survive here for long." A cruel smile grew on his face, and he turned to regard the other, and rather put off, Nobody. "Want to bet on how long they'll last?"

Left leg crossed under the other and right heel incessantly bouncing off the wall with an audible thump each time, Number Ten sat perched on top of the information booth for their assigned gate, fiddling his thumbs absentmindedly while glancing at the newcomers below. He had been doing this non-stop for the past thirty minutes, insisting that they should examine what they had to work with. The wagers on their life spans just came naturally.

Actually, it was not as if Luxord really cared what came through the gate, considering his lack of enthusiasm to get any work done. Even if a pink, three-headed dragon with a servere case of MPD charged through with a sombrero and tossed burritos-bombs to local civilians, the scene would not gain his interest in the least. No, this was all an attempt to make his aggravating "friend" get some sun on his alarmingly pale complexion.

Even looking at the man hurt his eyes. It was almost like staring at snow on a sunny morning - blinding and caused your will to break in five different places.

"You know, the odds are really against you being killed for leaving that abomination-hole you refer to as a research lab." While saying this, he made sure to kick the side of the booth a few more times, enjoying the repetitive "thunk"s and "clunk"s the leather of his boot made against the metal wall. "I don't really see while you insist on staying in that hive."

Comments

[witchtrials.livejournal.com]

Zexion sighed. Heavily. For the umpteenth time.

This was not how he had planned to start his day. No, not at all. He was supposed to wake up, conduct his usual morning routines, and then head to the lab. He had subjects to check up on, but no. No, Luxord the barbaric blonde just had to waltz through his door and drag him away from his precious work. It was a wonder he was able to fend the man off long enough to set his projects aside. One couldn't up and leave things on burners, or containers open to be soured by the air, or valuable sheets of complex and unfinished diagrams, data, and logs lying about. Those had to be organized! And quite well hidden, especially if one wanted to avoid a clumsy Neophyte spilling something on the papers or-- ugh-- coloring on them with Naminé's pencils.

Needless to say, Zexion was not at ALL pleased with how his afternoon was unfolding. It was true, he did need to get out and about in order to do some scouting. He wouldn't have minded baking in the fake-sunlight if that were the case. But, as luck would have it, he was instead stuck standing at his assigned gate, watching as confused newcomers filtered through. It wasn't entirely a waste of time, he supposed-- a few times, he had pulled out his journal and scribbled down a private note or two; notes that he refused to reveal to Luxord, no matter how much he was pestered, before silently shutting it and tucking the metal square right back in his pocket.

Still. It didn't mean he was pleased with any of this.

...Especially with that enraging tapping of Luxord's heel against the side of the booth. Blue eyes narrowed hatefully at the source of the sound, before the heated glare turned upwards, fixating on the other man's face. "I would much rather bet on how long you would last."

Was it a roundabout threat? Maybe. Maybe not. It was hard to tell what went on in that head of Zexion's, and he sure wasn't going to spill any secrets.

Turning away from the high-seated blonde, Zexion focused his attention back on the bodies passing through he gates. Watching them-- studying them, even, mentally ticking off physical weaknesses he saw, analyzing temperaments... things of that sort. Every now and then, his gloved fingers would twitch, as if itching to retrieve his journal again and write. But, more often than not, it didn't go much further than that. For the past fifteen minutes or so, Zexion had not seen any particularly spectacular specimens. None that he felt absolutely compelled to make a memo of.

Besides, it was hard to concentrate with that.. tapping...

That damnable tapping.

The insulting of his laboratory broke the dam, so to speak. A hand shot out, gripping Luxord's ankle and stilling his leg. "Luxord," he began, a stern expression steeled on his face as he peered up at him once again. "If you do not cease your kicking, I will not hesitate to remove your leg." A squeeze to the captured ankle was given for emphasis, then the hand was retracted and his attention turned back to the gate.

The last thing he had wanted to do was touch Luxord, but all previous verbal warnings had failed.

For the sake of a limb, Zexion hoped this attempt would be successful.

[gamblingfate.livejournal.com]

Like hell Luxord ever listened to his seniors.

His smile almost turned into a snarl the second the other man grabbed his ankle, but, after quickly reminding his subconscious that he was indeed not Saïx control was a key factor in his profession and it would not broken on someone as humorless and staid as Zexion, his mood went back to the habitual amused state that was ever so annoying to everyone else.

Still, he entertained the thought of forcefully beating the smaller man in the back of the head with the heel of his boot. Then again, Zexion did make good with his word, if a certain invisible syringe in his bed taught him something.

Whistling to spite the other member would just have to do.