"Perhaps I should cut it."
He ran both hands through thick hair and pushed the loose strands away from his brow. His face was clear of blemishes and the perfect mask of apathy. It was only like this that he would've been recognized by those who would have once known him.
"I like it." Larxene had indulged in the plenteous fruit bowl on the table. Her hands were occupied by the skin of an orange she was peeling. Its juices was already on her sleeves. She appeared frightfully bored with the situation. "I think it suits you."
"Of course you like it." He pulled at his hair until his chin tipped forward and his head fell back. "You would not like it if you had it, though."
It was the whiteness of the room that brought out the colour to its fullest. In the hour of twilight it looked a light, gentle brown and now its stark pink shone through like a Dahlia in bloom and never had Marluxia loathed it more. It ran from root to strand to end and never ceased to fade in hue.
"So," Larxene started and licked a bead of juice from her index finger, "I assume this isn't your original hair. From before?"
Before was incoherent memory of images and subtle feelings that fell numb on a heartless man. He was not bothered.
"It was black and shorter. To my shoulders."
This made the twelfth member gasp loudly. It soon turned into a laugh.
"Oh, that's ridiculous!" She screeched and threw the remains of the half finished orange into the empty wastepaper basket. "You're lying to me!"
Larxene was sly and fast yet her bawdy nature was what Marluxia close his eyes for three long seconds to regain his calm composure.
"I have no reason to lie to you, Larxene."
She laughed again and frowned at the stickiness still lurking on her fingers. She joined Marluxia in the bathroom.
"Made my hands all sticky. My gloves are dirty too. What a pain." She ran the hot water on its highest and briskly washed her hands. They were the prettiest feature on her, thin and delicate and pale with healthy pink nails.
"Well that is your fault. My orange tree is not constantly in bloom. Please stop eating its fruit so fast."
"There is nothing else here."
"Axel's room is surely a treasure trove of stolen goods." Marluxia had focused his attention on the mirror once more. He frowned, raised one eyebrow, raised the other, let a devilish smirk cross his features before allowing his features to relax in their neutral, attractive stance. Number Nine seemed able to show a variety of facial expressions alongside bogus emotions.
Larxene had dismissed Marluxia's claim. He knew of her trips to his room, the ones in which she looked over her shoulder before knocking on his door. These usually occurred at the times in which there was not a soul around, which in the Castle's case was a majority of the day (spare the twenty minutes of the afternoon when Number Five and Six had their daily stroll from Oblivion's highest balcony back towards the basement).
"What have you been doing in Arabia, Marluxia?"
The question was unexpected but still Number Eleven did not feign surprise.
"Work for the Superior." He smirked at the name and Larxene mirrored the expression; Xemnas's supposed status a common joke between them.
"But you see, I don't think that's the case." She reached for fruit bowl again. Her gaze was fixed on the figs that Marluxia had only just collected that morning. "If Xemnas wanted something done, he'd get Saix to ask Axel because Axel is the one who does the leg work. You," she let her smirk grow, "have a castle to run. So why would be ask you?"
She had a point.
"He wanted someone who knew the definition of discreet to run some errands."
"Oh? So you're his errands boy now?"
"No." He was beside her in seconds, snatching the fig from her uncovered fingers and placing it back in the fruit bowl. She groaned and crossed her arms, stalking towards the opposite wall. One of Namine's pictures had been taped in its centre. It was a messy scrawl of several bright English Primrose in a vase.
"I was just asking." Sharp nails ran down the crumbling crayon. "Axel said he saw you strolling through the markets there. And last time I checked there was a low population of Heartless there." Larxene had laid a trap and was near pouncing upon him. What made Marluxia frown was that, annoyingly, it was working quite well. She continued. "Arabia's markets are said to be some of the best in all the worlds. You can find just about everything there, supposedly. Rubies, spices, charms. What were you looking for?"
"Larxene." The unnatural sweetness in his voice was near frightening and right behind her ear. She flinched at its closeness and its tone. Marluxia snatched her wrist and squeezed it tightly. "You have many other important things to focus on. I'd suggest you keep your attention on them. My deeds are my own to know but I can assure you they involve you and I overthrowing this Organization. Now, is your curiousity sated?"
With one finger he stroked the skin of her fragile wrist. She sighed lightly and he didn't need to see her to know her eyes had closed. "Alright" she hummed quietly and leaned back against him. His other hand found her waist. It was a perfect curve under his palm and pleasant to feel. He ended the embrace with a set of words breathed hotly into her ear, asking her to consult Axel on his last assignment. With a dreamy expression she complied. After she vanished with a buzz of static black from her portal Marluxia considered how long he could avoid kissing her before he had to endure it. Aesthetically she was the fair Eve with shapely bones under pale skin, while under that font she portrayed the viper of wicked intentions. Yes, Larxene was a live wire, Marluxia thought as he returned to the mirror. She was useful but clever and utterly expendable.