"Why are most things creatures of habit, do you think?" Xellos asks, settling into the chair across from her as though he just came back from a trip to the powder room and is continuing their earlier conversation instead of popping out of thin air.
Filla pushes his tea towards him, which is a lot more hot milk and honey then tea, but how he choses to waste his tastebuds is none of her concern. "Certainty, I suppose. The future is uncertain, but routine and schedules add order and logic to our lives. I mean, I don't have to look at the calendar to know when to take Val to school, and it makes my life a lot easier." I also don't have to look at one to know when you are going to drop in anymore. Tea time on thursdays, dinner every other friday, except when friday falls on the seventh, and he pops up every third sunday, usually in the morning with some sort of "gift". She figured it out a while ago, but hasn't told him. Then he might change it up, and knowing this keeps calamity and awkward moments to a minimum.
"There's that word again." He mutters, taking a sip of his drink. It is on exactly the right edge of hot and he sighs into the mug, though his face is back in cloying grin mode in a second. "Order. Why are dragons and people and all that so obsessed with order? Why does chaos frighten them so?"
"It doesn't frighten you?" Fillia asks, knowing the answer already.
He snorts. "That's like asking a fish if it's afraid of drowning."
She smiles at him, and the light glints off her teeth like the flash of a moving blade. "I see. Say, did I tell you about what happened to Miss. Ramstead?" She says to distract him from the sharpness in her eyes.
He places an elbow on the tables and leans into her. "Please do." He loves listening to the little terrors of ordinary people's lives.
That friday Xellos finds himself at her house again, popping into existence right over the couch in her living room. He sinks right into the cushions and sighs. He tends to hang out in places where floating is the most comfortable position, but this couch is so soft and cushy, but firm enough to avoid the sensations of falling forever-oh, it's heaven. He takes a moment to enjoy it before sitting up and popping into the kitchen to surprise Fillia with an icey finger down her spine.
She isn't there. The kitchen is cold and empty, no stew bubbling on the stove, no roast warming in the oven. It's dark and cold. He cracks a eye to make sure.
There is a small ding to alert himself, and then he is in her bedroom. She must be in here then, surrounded by tissues and hot water bottles-
Nope.
He pops in and out of every room in the house, even the bathroom, but no one is home. He checks the clock in the kitchen. six oh five. It even has the date and that seems to be right, so she must be...
It occurs to him that he has no way of contacting her. She is disturbingly punctual and polite. She tells him where she will be, and then there she is. Going to see her has always been as simple as that. He never had to set up any sort of mini portal to talk with her.
Xellos has feelings. He has become a master of hiding them, but alone, even in another's house, he allows his eyes to open and a disturbed expression to cross his face. He racks his mind for an answer. Did she say she and Val were going somewhere yesterday? No, just gossip about her neighbors. There is no note. It looks like they've been gone a while.
Vague disturbance is sliding into outright panic. They must have been taken somewhere! Filia is far too much of a creature of habit to not be here at this time for a lesser reason. Not without mentioning it to someone.
He stands, and his staff appears in his hands. She's a defecting golden dragon with one of the last ancient dragons in her care. He knew this would happen eventually. She pretended that her situation was a political grey area, but she knew as well as he that all magical eyes were on her. Xellos hasn't cursed in years, but he wants to call her something a lot stronger than a fool for not having more protective barriers in place.
That's what he'll do. He'll find them where ever they've been taken and tear whatever took them to pieces so he can taunt her for months.
Xellos readies himself for a multi-dimensional portal jump when he hears keys jingling and instead materializes in the living room to find Filia walking in, a sleepy Val in her arms. She sets him on the shoe stand to free her hands for pulling her coat off.
"Filla." Xellos says, his voice not a threat or an exclamation. Stunned, almost. Not that he cares.
"Oh. Hi, Xellos." She smiles so innocently he realizes this was planned.
He leans against the door frame in front of her. Act natural act natural act natural. "So where have you been?"
"Dinner. I haven't been out for dinner in a long time. I thought it would be nice to let someone else cook for a change." She picks up Val again, rests him on her hip, and looks Xellos right in the eyelid, daring him to say something.
He doesn't have a taunt for her this time. It's perfectly reasonable to go to a restaurant every now and again, even if you do have a toddler. It doesn't say anything about her parenting skills or her punctuality. She didn't break any engagements, as far as he knows.
"Good for you." He mutters, fading out of existence.
Filia smiles at the air where he was a second ago. Xellos, the mighty dragon-slayer, almost speechless. And all she had to do was eat a wonderful steak. It's her most satisfying victory in a long time.