Lex and Roxas make their way to the back room together, one clocking in and the other clocking out. The store has a new shipment in, and the entire space is packed with towers of white boxes that need to be processed. As Roxas types thirteens into the time clock, Lex pokes around through the maze of boxes and half-filled rolling garment racks.
"Aqua?"
"Right here," calls a pleasant female voice, and as Roxas glances over, he sees a pale hand with long black nails poke out from the clutter.
"I have to be going," Lex calls, "but first, I'd like you to meet Roxas. He's new and... could use some guidance."
And doesn't know what the hell he's doing, is how Roxas might have phrased it, but this seems nicer.
"Sure! Hang on." The hand tugs aside a clothing rack and is soon followed by a young woman with a bob of blue hair a few shades darker than Saïx's. She's wearing a short, cotton candy pink dress with a flare skirt under a cropped, studded black leather jacket. It's all very Sandy at the end of Grease, but she's owning it.
Studded leather jackets seem to be standard issue dress code here. Roxas wonders if his went the way of his name tag.
Lex introduces them, and Roxas reflects on what Axel told him about Aqua. Kick-ass Mom Friend. He sees the 'kick-ass' part clear as day. She's around 5'10", and black ballet flats or no, the set of her shoulders and the dark, smoky grays of her make-up read 'don't fuck with me.' Like she could knock you on your back mid-cartwheel and not smear her lipstick.
She certainly doesn't seem like your stereotypical Mom Friend. That is until the moment she opens her mouth. A million questions exit, her enthusiasm alarmingly genuine: where's he from and what's his major and is he seeing any nice young men and is he nervous to be starting a new job?
Roxas answers as best he can. Grew up on the islands. At school on the mainland: Twilight Tech. One more semester left in a Communications major, hoping to go into radio or podcasting, but open to other adventures. Wants to travel. Single. Or as Sora would say a 'single Pringle.' Oh god, don't tell Sora I'm quoting him. Younger. He's alright, just a bit much sometimes. Not nervous but definitely confused. Are we legally allowed to sell both Marvel and DC? Do people actually wear Justin Bieber t-shirts? For real, what is Hot Cash?
He realizes with a funny pang that none of these get-to-know-you questions had cropped up the other day with Axel. It had been like they were already past that when they hadn't even gotten to it. Maybe it's always that way when you click with somebody.
Rather than answer his questions, Aqua laughs and waves him off. "Can you take the floor and the register for a sec, Roxas? I'm almost finished loading this and Lex is probably out there waiting."
Roxas nods, not bothering to check if Aqua can see him from where she is, and heads out to the floor. He waves as Lex goes and its returned with a genuine, if tiny, smile. Progress.
Roxas has only just stepped behind the register and slipped on Cloud's lanyard when someone new walks in.
The guy appears to be about Sora's height and age: short, maybe nineteen. His hair's a nest of black spikes that look like they haven't seen a comb in several weeks. Actually, maybe that's what reminds him of Sora.
"Hello!" Roxas calls out, because it seems like the thing to do.
The guy ignores him, which, okay, fair—retail—but continues to approach. He wears a navy blazer with a golden crest on the breast pocket like he attends boarding school, and he wears a scowl like he just got kicked out of it. A pair of expensive white headphones stick out between tufts of hair as if in apology for his unresponsiveness.
"Can I help you with anything, man?" Roxas tries again, louder, and said young man stops for a second, brows rising before continuing his path, past the register, and then slipping behind it and sliding in right next to Roxas.
Roxas backs off a step in surprise, and the guy smirks, reaching for a lower shelf to grab his lanyard from atop a box of, well, Roxas has no idea, obviously. It's only his second day.
"Hey, I'm Roxas." Roxas gestures to his chest to make it clear he's communicating. It feels very "I-Tarzan. You-Jane," but it gets the job done.
The other guy raises an eyebrow and dangles the nametag at the end of his lanyard up a bit, not bothering to slide off his headphones. Then he turns on a quilted black combat boot and struts off. Roxas makes out the strange jumble of letters at the last second.
Vanitas.
The guy who had bailed on his shift last time and left Roxas for dead.
Charming.
Roxas directs a pair of lost looking tourists in punk clothes and loose Hawaiian shirts toward the food court and retrieves a handful of mini buttons from the floor where it appears as though someone had vindictively flung them at a cashier. He's returning them to their display box in front of the registers when Vanitas strides out, headphones still on, pulling Aqua behind him by the sleeve. She's hauling a large, white cardboard box of accessories in her free arm.
Vanitas gestures to Roxas with a thumb, and Aqua raises a blue brow. He gestures again with both hands and Aqua sighs, tugging down Vanitas' headphones. His facial reaction is more like she's pantsed him, but she appears unimpressed.
Roxas thinks he hears Brendon Urie crooning faintly from said headphones, which he gets a kick out of, if only because Panic! at the Disco is already playing on the store's overhead speakers.
It's like Vanitas' mouth has been switched on, and he glares up at Aqua, not without fondness. "Why're there so many of us?" He gazes at Roxas again, up and down, as if taking his measurements. "Did Saïx finally lose his shit and decide to go all Hunger Games on our asses? Because I'll be real," he glances back to Aqua with a sharp grin, "I've been waiting for it since day one."
Roxas noisily drops the last few buttons back into the bin and chokes down a huff of laughter. He hasn't known Saïx long, but with how high-strung he is, it's easy to picture those strings snapping.
Aqua rakes fingers down her face, shakes her head. "Vanitas, for God's sake."
"Hey, my money's on you, Aqua," Vanitas glances down at his phone to dismiss his music, though "Let's Kill Tonight" feels strangely timely. "Larxene's a scrappy little B witch, but Aqua's got a dark side," he continues casually, sliding his phone to his back pocket.
Roxas raises his brows, wondering if it might be true, considering she appears to be friends with Vanitas, who appears to be no ray of sunshine himself. Both turn to Aqua, who's digging through the accessories, trying to extract one scarf without sending half the box tumbling.
"I say we team up," Vanitas proposes, twirling his lanyard around his finger like he's not alluding to Roxas' dystopian murder.
Aqua rolls her eyes and refuses to laugh, propping the box on her hip and angling herself between the guys as Roxas crosses the checkout line space to meet them, clutching at his own lanyard.
"There are two of us because of the holidays and three because he's a new hire and still learning the ropes." Aqua hands a silver and green striped scarf off to Vanitas and pushes him back the step he tries to take, staving off his smirk. "Not because Saïx is hoping we'll do him a favor and kill each other."
"Yeah," Roxas' brows rise, darkly amused, in spite of himself, "imagine all the extra paperwork that would be."
Aqua scoffs with mild disapproval, and Vanitas misses the remark entirely as he wraps the scarf around his own throat, eyebrows furrowing. He watches Aqua hand Roxas a winter hat with Pikachu ears.
"Jesus, how many spikey haired blondes do we need?"
"Prompto left, Cloud barely subs any more, we have to have one," Aqua teases, lip quirking up as she nudges Vanitas' shoulder.
Vanitas huffs exaggeratedly and steps closer to the Harry Potter merch. "Fuck that." He glances at Roxas again, like he's trying to gauge his reaction, so Roxas keeps it neutral. "I'm not learning your name."
Roxas shrugs, deepening Vanitas' scowl and efficiently killing all connections in his mind between the dude and Sora.
Axel'd said Saïx wanted desperately to fire Vanitas. Roxas suddenly has more sympathy for his uptight boss.
Aqua eyes Roxas thoughtfully, like she can sense his inner unease. He doesn't want to be making any more waves here. He needs this job—needs money. To pay off his rent—to pay back Seifer.
"Ignore him." She piles more warm, geeky hats in Roxas' arms. "He has insomnia and sometimes it puts him in a mood."
"All the fucking time," Vanitas growls in the distance, hidden by the displays.
Aqua tosses a hand up in mild exasperation and offers Roxas a reassuring smile outlined in charcoal lipstick. "We're happy to have you here, Roxas. Both of us. Really."
"Um," Roxas attempts to smile back, resisting all impulses to bitch and argue, repositioning the pile in his arms, and realizing he has no idea where any of it goes, "okay. If you say so."