Why did he feel that strange twang in the centre of his ribcage?
He, Vexen the Chilly Academic, prided himself on not believing in anything unless it was proven with concrete evidence or unless he thought it made a legible hypothesis. He didn't do 'abstract', 'unfounded' or, Nobel forbid he even thought about 'emotion' in any way other than scientifically.
So why was that gap in his ribcage…No, he wouldn't use the term. That was ridiculous. They'd proved it wrong with Nobel knows how many experiments.
Experiments are never wrong.
But this newest development would have to be tested. He couldn't let something that flew so blatantly in the face of his well-established database of facts go by unnoticed.
"Er…Vexy?"
How long had he been standing there like some sort of idiotic mouth-breather?
"Sorry, Demyx. I was just mulling over an idea for my next experiment," he quickly assured the younger blond, who nodded as he hugged himself.
"'Kay. Hey…Can I have my clothes back now? I really don't like these medical gowns…"
"Of course. And I'll give you the results tomorrow morning. Can you please send in Luxord?"
He found the parcel of black leather just behind him and handed it to the Nocturne, smiling faintly as he turned away for decency's sake.
"So…Luxord is next?"
"Yes."
"Gotcha!" nodded Demyx as he waltzed out of the lab, fully clothed and whistling.
And there was that damned tugging in Vexen's chest. Xemnas would be interested in this…Once there was proof, of course. Even though the Superior might be a single-mindedly obsessive fool as a Nobody, deep down he was still Xehanort, still Ansem the Wise's little favourite. Science still mattered.
And he smiled to himself, even as Luxord apprehensively entered and paused upon seeing that smile.
Experiments indeed.