Gilgamesh stared up at the ceiling as the first rays of the blue light of dawn seeped through the blinds into their hotel room, and listened to the girl he took here with him for the night go to the bathroom. It bothered him that she made poo like everybody else, and it disturbed him that he couldn't understand why that was something he had a problem with, and his mind wrestled with the conundrum till he left it to gnaw on the back of his mind.

She came to Japan with an interest in its culture and an inclination to explore it, for though she knew where she belonged, she was bored with home and wanted to expand her horizons, discover herself and all that post-adolescent thinking. Her voice was higher and her manners were too unrefined for his liking: she laughed too easily, smiled too often and got drunk too quickly, but she had the jade eyes and the cream hair, and he told himself that would just have to do. He tried to believe it even when he found that there was no sharpness to her words, no bite to her kisses and no tragedy to her character, but he had to be honest with himself. She just wasn't what he was looking for, never mind the fact that he still wasn't entirely sure as to what it was that he was looking for exactly.

The flushing of a toilet. The padding of bare feet over the carpet. He didn't move as she came back to their bed and put her back to him so that she faced the wall. She liked him on sight but he had gotten her name wrong. She had asked him who Arturia was, and when he refused to answer she came to her own conclusions, and though they weren't right, they weren't that far away from the truth. And as a king, as the king, he usually never cared for the opinions of sheep, but this time he realized he was feeling particularly irritated at how close he was to being figured out by a girl he had only just met.

When they eventually got up, they dressed without looking at each other and hurried to the door in haste to be the first one out. He had the longer stride, so he won, but then there was the elevator, and so they waited for it together.

"Maybe you should call her," the girl suggested as they stood side by side and watched the floor numbers change with each blink. "Tell her how you feel."

Gilgamesh looked at her and smiled thinly. "She's dead."

The girl frowned, bit her lip. Even her frown somehow felt wrong to him. "Right. Sorry."

"For what?"

"For looking like her."

The doors slid open. Gilgamesh let her go and looked her up and down as she turned around and jabbed a floor button. They stared at each other, and she tentatively waved goodbye. "You look nothing like her. You're not even close," he replied.

Her eyes widened and then the doors slid close.

He never saw her again.

2 am + sad music = depressing one-shot