They never really spoke to each other, because neither of them never had anything to say to each other. Leon was always cold and quiet and calm, never sparing him a glance or a word that wasn't absolutely necessary. Despite the times Seifer had tried to bring up a conversation, Leon'd never taken it and gone anywhere with it, so he gave up a while ago, settling with digging through the boxes and chests he found lying around Leon's house. Leon didn't seem to mind all that much, since he never told Seifer not to do it, which was just the motive Seifer needed to keep on doing it. (It was interesting the things he found tucked away, swallowed up in dust and cobwebs, in Leon's little bachelor pad – but that was beside the point.)
The point was that they never spoke to each other unless it was necessary. Idle conversation didn't seem to be something Leon was very good at, and Seifer didn't try to push it, considering the fact that the first time he tired he had almost been kicked out of the house all together.
It was why Seifer was surprised when Leon, sitting across from him at the little two-man table in Leon's – their – quaint little house, opened his mouth and asked him the first question since he had thought to ask since he first walked in here.
"Where did you come from?" Leon's voice was calm and quiet, with a smooth touch to it that showed just how in control of the conversation, and his emotions, he really was. Seifer glanced up from his plate, stopped pushing around the eggs that had been cooling in the center of the white ceramic, and raised a single eyebrow at Leon's uncharacteristic interest in his past. And here he had thought the man hadn't cared.
"Twilight Town." He shrugged, not really interested in continuing on with the conversation because he had left that place behind for a damned good reason, and he really didn't feel like remembering the stupid, boring place that town had been. Leon didn't seem too satisfied with that answer, because his brow scrunched up and his scar dipped down between his face, dark and red against lightly tanned skin, and Seifer glared at him.
"Why did you leave?" Seifer dropped his fork to the plate harshly, and it skittered around the delicate ceramic with a clatter, sliding over the wooden table and landing beside his glass of orange juice. He stared at it as if it had done some great wrong to him in his life, his hands pressed flat against the tabletop as he shoved his chair back and climbed to his feet.
"Why do you care?" Seifer had a distinct feeling that Leon was looking right through him with those precise, dark blue eyes, and he glared at the man in return to his scrutinizing glance. "It's none of your business." He added, remaining where he was, waiting to see how the silent brunette would react.
Leon didn't move from his spot; he simply gave Seifer one last glance before going back to his meal as if the conversation had never happened.
"I don't." It was the last thing Leon said, cutting the conversation with his knife-like words and leaving it dangling before Seifer in a void of uneasy silence, and the blonde swore loudly and stepped away from the table, knocking his chair over in the process, before stalking out of the living room and dining room combination. He slipped into his room, slammed the door loudly, and perched himself on the edge of the window seat that adorned his bedroom, overlooking the marketplace and the bastion beyond.
He wasn't exactly sure why he was so angry that Leon didn't care or why he was so frustrated that Leon had asked in the first place, but he swore again, and tossed the pillow from the seat clear across the room, watching the tassels reach out like little flags as it spun through the air and hit the door with a soft thump.
