When he finds the generic blue bottles in his favorite aisle, Jecht's characteristic grin slips. He looks again, this time letting his eyes slowly fall across the labels. Distilled. Strong. Fully fermented. Fruit. All the cheap knockoffs that pale in comparison to his favorite.
"This is ridiculous!" Jecht shouts, surprising the other men in the aisle. They shoot him a few weird looks but ultimately leave him alone in his anger. He whips his head around for any sign of the manager. Anyone that can take a piece of his mind.
"Of course you're here, Jecht." A brooding voice crawls up his back, pulling up the hairs of the back of his neck along the way.
Jecht mutters something under his breath, but that spiteful man insists on leaning closer. The smell of expensive shampoo and perfume causes his eyes to water.
"Mateus," Jecht says very, very slowly to avoid the man's scent.
Mateus smiles in response to his name. It isn't a kind smile, but is isn't one of malice either. But it looks off and gives Jecht an odd feeling of fear and indigestion.
He risks a glance at the man's shopping basket. "I thought you already had all those shampoos," Jecht says.
"Only the best," Mateus replies with another smile. Today, that man kept his silver hair, which Jecht found out only recently that it was his natural color. Other days, he dyed it blond, accompanied with soft violet streaks. Compared to the sloppy Jecht, Mateus was the epitome of neatness.
"When will you know that drinking is bad for your health?" Mateus sighs, and Jecht shoots him a frown. "They all have different labels, but in the end, they do nothing but mess up your mind."
"At least I don't smell like a fruit salad," Jecht snickers. If Mateus had heard that, he doesn't make a show of it. Instead, his arrogant, obnoxious neighbor digs into his basket and slides a green bottle into Jecht's own.
"You need to stop reeking like sweat every night. I can't concentrate on my writing." Jecht sighs through gritted teeth. He has the sudden urge to scratch his stomach in front of Mateus, just to gross him out, but decides against it. "You and your son always bring a storm of sweat into the neighborhood. How can I maintain a proper, hygienic place to perfect my literature?"
"You can wear a face mask. Or you can drink to forget the smell."
Mateus chuckles darkly. "And waste my money on your precious 'beer' when I can get water for free? I think not."
Before Jecht can raise his voice, another man stumbles into the aisle. He stops, rubs his eyes, and brushes past the two without a word.
"Hey, Seph!" Jecht calls.
His other neighbor turns. "I told you not to call me that," he mutters.
"My, my." Mateus shakes his head while making a tsk-tsk motion. "Someone has been neglecting their proper prescription of sleep. Remember, a grown adult should get at seven to eight hours of sleep to fully function."
"I get ten!" Jecht roars. Fortunately, the aisle is empty.
Sephiroth frowns and proceeds to look through the shelves. "I can't help it. One screw-up can lead to major consequences for national security."
"I thought you were a professor," Jecht says.
"I'm a lecturer, not a researcher," Sephiroth snaps. Then he sighs. "I have enough essays to grade in a week, on top of government work." He taps his fingers against a brown box, hesitates, then plucks out a red one. "Sometimes I don't understand what goes through their heads."
"The students or—"
"Both," Sephiroth finishes with a smirk. He turns to the two men while holding up the boxes. "Which one is more caffeinated?"
"Don't drink that. It's bland and boring," Jecht says.
"Not everyone can hold their alcohol like you," Sephiroth mutters.
"You should take care of your hair." Mateus nods at the heavy bags under his eyes. "You have split ends. A simple comb should suffice, as well as the premium shea-butter with aloe shampoo."
Sephiroth glowers at the items Mateus casually placed in his basket, but he's too tired to protest. He grabs several boxes of dark instant coffee, muttering something about dumping it all into one cup.
"What do you mean I have dry skin! How rude!" another voice rings out. This time, Mateus rolls his eyes. Jecht had never seen the manner-addicted neat-freak out of character, but he understands why. Even Sephiroth groans.
"Kuja," Jecht says as the boy storms into the aisle.
At the sight of the men, Kuja's expression brightens. "Salutations, fellow neighbors!" he sings. "What a coincidence that fate has allowed us another chance to see each other!"
"Isn't he in your same publication circle?" Sephiroth turns to Mateus.
Mateus has his fingers on his temples. "No. He's just the newspaper boy."
"I'm an accredited performer!" Kuja pouts. "But I can write better stories than you, Emperor."
"Emperor?" Jecht echoes.
"Because he thinks he's a big-shot," Kuja says, shooting Mateus a haughty glare. "Everyone refers to him as the 'Emperor of Critique.'"
Said man musters a forced smirk. "What are you doing here, Kuja?"
"Oh! You won't believe it!" Kuja's previously happy expression turns into a frown. "I was asking for lotion recommendations, and the incompetent idiot handed me a lotion for dry skin!" His hands shoot to his face. "But, of course, I never have dry skin. I make sure to take care of my face every day and shower accordingly."
His listeners didn't seem to understand the scope of the crisis.
"Neat freaks," Jecht mutters in disbelief. "I only shower twice a week."
Sephiroth looks taken back, as did Mateus and Kuja. "You're lying."
"Nope! Tidus, on the other hand, takes his sweet time. The boy loves water. I always tell him to conserve water in case there's a drought."
"Sleeping too long and showering too little." Mateus has the most disapproving look on his face. Jecht almost feels guilty. Almost. "And drinking far too much. You're pumping money into an industry that doesn't support healthy initiatives."
"He's right," Sephiroth adds, surprising Jecht. The two rarely agreed on something. "There has been scientific issues on the benefits of coffee. That should be a better alternative to beer, which shows no benefits." He rubs his eyes again. "But still, do everything in moderation. You wouldn't want alcohol poisoning this early in your life."
"You should take care of your skin," Kuja chimes in, frowning at his Jecht's dry, ashen arms. "Or you'll get wrinkles."
Jecht blinks. The whole conversation had taken a weird turn in direction. Why was he here again?
"I don't feel like buying a beer today," Jecht sighs. After all y'all showed up, he wants to add.
"Good. At least go home and take a bath." Mateus has that smile again.
"I don't have to drag you home after a hangover today," Sephiroth mutters.
"Remember to apply lotion after you finish taking a bath. A BATH, not a shower," Kuja adds, his face uncannily serious. "I always drink lots of water to promote healthy skin development."
Jecht follows the strange group as they check their groceries. Once outside, he turns around.
"How about we hang out after I finish?"
The men steal glances at each other. "At whose house?" Kuja asks.
"I have yet to clean up the mess of paper at mine," Sephiroth says quickly.
"You can come to mine and admire these portraits I've painted of myself!" Kuja says. The others' looks range from sympathy to disgust. They unanimously rule him out.
"My house stinks," Jecht says to seal the deal.
Mateus frowns. "Very well. I'll treat all of you to a proper meal at my house. On the condition that you leave your shoes outside."
"Sounds reasonable," Sephiroth says.
"I'll bring some beer!" Jecht says.
"Haven't you learnt your lesson?" Mateus snaps. "And besides, your beer isn't… up to par, anyways."
"I think I have leftover fruit juice for the students," Sephiroth says slowly. "And pretzels."
"I don't want stale pretzels! How about we cook our own meals!" Kuja exclaims, his eyes wide.
Jecht struggles to imagine three grown men and… Kuja wearing aprons, crowded in the kitchen while waiting for the kettle to boil.
But Mateus already has his hand on his chin. "Interesting. I'll treat you to this new recipe I've been thinking of making. No one volunteered to try it. Not even Ultimeica, who usually has an eye for fine dining."
And for good reason, Jecht wants to add, but keeps his mouth shut.
"I can throw something together," Sephiroth says. At least Jecht can trust his cooking, because Sephiroth is very picky about his food. Neat freak #2.
And if Kuja's good for anything, it's his utmost attention to cooking. The boy has the most colorful display of noodles Jecht had ever seen.
"I can't wait!" Kuja exclaims. And neither can Jecht, who's continually grateful for such eccentric neighbors.