It was strange, Zexion mused, how easy it was to grow accustomed to the city. Even with the scents of people coming and going, it was tempting. Of course, that was more than likely the intention of the place in the first place. Draw the people in and make it so that they grew complacent in their new homes. For his part, Zexion wanted little of it, except for a single solitary fact. Each new scent was a new potential pawn. Something else with which to bide his time. Even the smallest could topple a castle. Of course, he wasn't about to walk out into town as he truly was. No, that would have been tantamount to suicide, with the scent of so many Keybearers filling the town. Not even he could guess who would speak to whom and he had to assume that at least one of the many would speak to someone he'd spoken to over the course of anyone's given stay in the city. Paranoid, yes, he knew. But better to be safe than risk the ire of the keyblade.

His disguise, such as it was, was simple. He'd traded in the coat of the Organization for something more approximating the clothes of a college student, and a simple illusion of pale brown hair pulled back into a neat ponytail covered his own, more recognizable hair. Simple, but effective.

"Were you looking for someone?" he asked quietly as he drew close enough to be heard.