Demyx has the attention span of a small child with a bouncy ball in one hand and a pixy stick in the other. Halfway through showing Roxas how to process a return, and three thirds of the way through a sentence, he trails off and props his arm up on the counter, placing his chin in his hand. He uses his free hand to gesture with the paw of the unicorn-mermaid plushie he plans to purchase on his break, and asks, "So, you play any instruments, Roxie?"

"Uh..." Roxas looks at the unicorn-mermaid as he considers, as if it had posed the question. He had played the recorder in fourth grade.

"Demyx."

Both guys whirl around to see Saïx standing just beside the checkout counter, expression stern, a scheduling binder in hand and a pencil tucked behind an unusually pointed ear. Saïx doesn't look up from whatever he's working on, words easy and fluid, "Need I remind you that, contrary to popular belief, we are not a recruiting force or advertising post for your little boy band?"

"Rock band. Hey," Demyx tosses up his hands helplessly and cracks a cheesy smile, "It was an innocent question! Promise! Just trying to get to know the new guy, see if we have anything in common."

When Saïx does not respond right away, Roxas shrugs sympathetically. "Sorry man, just the air guitar." He strums the air in demonstration and sticks out his tongue like KISS, causing Demyx's grin to brighten several watts.

"There you have it." Saïx closes the binder with a plastic slap and steps forward. His eyes, the same pale blue color as his hair, zero in on Demyx. "Now, go restock something. I'll take over from here."

Demyx slips behind Saïx, but can't resist tossing over his shoulder, "I dunno man, you ever sing anything? I bet you can sing."

Roxas McCartney's mouth dips open a bit, because he can but he typically doesn't. Like. Ever. And how the hell had Demyx guessed…? "No, I..."

A dry sound leaves Saïx's throat, and Demyx looks up at him, eyes wide, smile bashful.

"Demyx." Saïx lays a gentle hand on Demyx's shoulder blade to urge him forward, and Roxas unconsciously summons the image of Saïx speaking to a three-year-old Demyx wearing a monkey backpack child leash. "Go."

Not long after, Saïx receives a call and, with a grimmer than usual expression, announces that he needs to stay later than expected and work on some things. Luxord immediately replies that he needs to leave earlier than expected and drink some things, to which, much to Roxas' surprise, Saïx only offers a low chuckle and a "Be our guest."

After Saïx dubs Roxas fully register trained, he goes to the back storage room to work on some things, insisting Roxas radio him should he have any trouble. Demyx decides to take his fifteen after the last of the lunch rush has trickled out.

Roxas manages to check Demyx out and correctly apply his employee discount without incident, and Demyx rewards him with a high five and a "one of us" chant, which echoes through the store as he and his mermaid-unicorn plushie exit to make their way to the food court.

Roxas realizes he is basically alone again on his first day and curses to himself. While he feels much more confident on the register and folding and straightening clothing, he realizes that now that he doesn't have a coworker to yell over to. Should anyone come up and ask him a question, he will be screwed.

What's the difference between a plug and a taper? How much money do you need to spend to get Hot Cash? Do you have this in a double XL? What even is Hot Cash?

Who knows? Certainly not Roxas. He may have to feign amnesia.

Or, God forbid, actually radio his boss.

Only two people have come in since Demyx's break, and, finding him gone, promptly left. Roxas meanders the store, looking for something to straighten or maybe a Christmas present for Sora.

We're going down, down in an earlier round,

And, sugar, we're going down swinging.

His mind strays to the dated lyrics blasting through the speakers, and he starts to sing along lightly as he readjusts boatneck tees that have no desire to continue their relationships with their hangers.

"Is this more than you bargained for yet?

Oh, don't mind me, I'm watching you two from the closet,

Wishing to be the friction in your jeans.

"Isn't it messed up, how I'm just dying to be him?

I'm just a—"

Roxas hears a gasp, the rustle of displays being shoved past. He falls silent, but it's too late.

"Oh my god! Oh my god," Demyx shouts. "You liar! I knew it! Your voice is beautiful. Now you have to join the band."

Roxas can feel horror widen his eyes and zip his mouth. Blush contours his cheekbones as he reevaluates the lyrics that have just left his mouth.

Axel crops up only moments later, Demyx's plushie nestled under one arm and the other landing on Demyx's hip. He cocks his head and considers Roxas for a moment. "Do you want me to mercy kill you? Because I know where Saïx keeps his coffee and I bet one sip would do you in."

Demyx gives him a shove with his shoulder, pushing him back into a round rack and knocking over a few of the clearance garments Roxas had just hung up. "You're a traitor to The Organization, Axel."

"Dem, I haven't even heard your band yet," Roxas decides to offer, not unkindly, hands up in self-defense. "And I don't really sing in front of, you know, people."

Axel plucks the stray garments off the floor before straightening up and tossing Roxas a grin. "Give the black coffee some thought, Roxas."

Demyx scoffs, nose upturning, amused smile betraying him. "You're both dirty rotten traitors."

"Oh, would you look at the time." Axel glances down at a pale, freckled wrist. It's cluttered with black leather braids but nothing vaguely resembling a watch. "Roxas and I have to be going."

Roxas slips the phone from his back pocket and does look at the time. Two o'clock? He had been counting down the minutes and then spaced this close to clocking out? And Axel…

I'll swing by then.

"You actually came back."

"Said I would."