A Problem He Just Couldn't Figure Out
It began late one night, deep in the bowels of Radiant Garden's castle, where Ansem the Wise was studying…
"Damn." Ansem muttered, pounding his fist on the desk, scattering his various papers of notes. "It just doesn't make since!" He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. Perhaps he had been working too hard. Yeah, that had to be it. Maybe some left over chicken would calm his nerves.
Thing is, he didn't think he had any chicken.
"Um, sir? Are you ok? I heard a loud 'bang', and I wondered if everything was all right in here."
Ansem the Wise glanced up. One of his apprentices, Xehanort, stood in the doorway. "Oh, I'm fine…"
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
Xehanort nodded. "I'll be going then."
"Wait!" Ansem glanced around cautiously. "I could use some company, if you don't mind."
Xehanort smiled softly. "I'll return in a moment."
When he did return, about five minutes or so later, he carried a bottle of wine and two glasses. "What is that for?" Ansem asked.
"Thought you could use a drink." Xehanort replied. "If you don't want it, I can always…"
"No, no, no! My throat is quite parched. Good idea, Xehanort."
"Thank you." He took a seat across from Ansem, pouring an even amount of wine in each glass and handing him one. "So, have you figured it out?"
"Unfortunately, no." Ansem took a sip of the wine. "It's so frustrating! It doesn't make any since what-so-ever!"
Suddenly, Xehanort was next to Ansem, leaning down. "You'll figure it out." And he closed the space between them, pressing his lips to Ansem's. "Goodnight."
Ansem watched Xehanort leave. "What the bloody hell?"
The end!