Trivial Matters
The one with the puppies
They were all there when the usually stoic number VII fell ungracefully from his seat onto the floor oh-so far beneath. It provided a fantastic distraction from the never-ending meeting, proving even more fantastic when the meeting was adjourned following certain discoveries. One of said discoveries was that VII was not breathing. The second was that bandages were restricting his breathing. The third and fourth discoveries were current staring Vexen in the face.
Or rather, it should be said, Vexen was currently staring at the third and fourth discoveries. Very intently, as if they held some secret that would unlock the meaning of all existence. He could have stared at them for a long time yet, if not forever, had some-no-one not cleared his throat in an I-will-rip-out-your-spleen-and-feed-it-to-you-very-soon-manner.
"It would appear that they are real," Vexen declared plainly.
"I would have known if they weren't," replied Saix, the promise of pain in his growling voice. "And you didn't need five minutes to tell me that."
"I had to make sure! It's a scientist's job to confirm all observations," countered Vexen confidently. "Now, just remove your clothes and we can proceed with the rest of the examination."
"Remove my clothes?"
"Just part… of… standard… pro…" It really was rather uncomfortable, trapped between a sharp blade and a wall. "Number VII, need I remind you that the Superior himself ordered this?"
Pulling rank was always the way to go when dealing with angry berserkers. Visibly deflating at the mention of Xemnas, Saix turned around, tugging at his coat's zip. "Oogle and I'll forget that you're number IV," he hissed, keeping one hand on his claymore.
That was going to be a hard one. After all, the Organization was a bit of a boy's club, with their only female member rather more masculine than some of their number and flat enough to pass. It wasn't often that the opportunity presented itself for them to oogle, especially not at those lovely C-cups.
Averting his eyes quickly, he fumbled for a note book. Getting skewered by an irate berserker rather outweighed any benefits gained from gawking at said berserker.
"So, the transformation was complete?"
"Obviously," came the tense reply.
"I think some measurements are in order. The Superior did say to be thorough."
It really was his lucky day, in spite of having to work with Saix. After all, he wasn't bleeding onto his clean laboratory floor and he had one very naked female on his lab table. Sure, she was hefting a claymore like it weighed nothing and giving him the Glare of Doom, but boy, was she female.