Zexion finished drying himself with the towel enough that he wouldn't drip over the floor, and put his dish in the wash pot. He stepped out of the kitchen, grabbing a clean tray tray from behind the bar, and went to get empty cups and find out who wanted refills. Xigbar sighed to himself as the boy stepped back on the floor, "Persistent little brat aren'tcha?"
The door opened and Zexion glanced over. He nodded at the woman that walked through- she was a regular -and took the empty mugs and plates on his tray behind the counter. He handed a few to Xigbar motioning to the taps to refill from, and stepped into the kitchen again. He tapped the counter three times, paused and then twice. Two beef sandwiches. Xaldin was never taught reading when was younger, and there wasn't much of a need for him to learn, their little system worked well enough.
He stepped back into the main room with the acquired food, and gathered the filled mugs on his tray. Zexion walked around, placing mugs and plates on the respective tables. He collected pay from the people that decided to leave. The door opened again, Zexion turned, glancing at it. And stared.
He dropped his tray. Xigbar stops his refilling, "What the hell?"
Demyx pulls the door shut behind himself. "Gods above, Zexion? You- I've- And-" Demyx practically flew across the room. "Gods, how did you survive? I...I was so scared. I've been searching everywhere." He tilted Zexion's face up, both of them were crying. "Consent?"
Zexion nodded, closing his eyes. Demyx took of the black leather gloves he was wearing, tucking them into a pocket, and placed his splayed fingers on either side of the others face- Thums at the temples, pinkies on the jawbone.
-Memory Read-
Running. Rain. Demyx.
Save him. FUCK.
Chased. Too close.
Stop running. Turn.
Save him. Fight.
Lord Vexen. Laughter.
Cell, no. Apothecary.
Tied down. Needle.
"Heretic. Traitor. Silenced"
Stitches. Blood. Pain.
Word Count: 2589