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The Crack that Never Was

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[Aug. 28th, 2006|03:53 pm]
The Crack that Never Was
Distantly, Lexaeus was aware that certain snipers had become upset at his cleaning habits in relation to a certain liquor stash, but he didn't let it bother him, just made a mental note not to annoy Xigbar and to make the Freeshooter keep his own drinks straightened out. Housekeeping services were one of those "abuse 'em and lose 'em" privileges not to be taken lightly.
Lexaeus was himself a pretty strict teetotaller-- alcoholic drinks only on Sundays and special occasions. When those times actually happened (and yes, miraculously reappearing alive again had qualified as a special occasion), the Silent Janitor simply went to a nearby liquor store and bought only as much as he needed.
The wine cellar of the Three Stooges was thus never bothered by HIM.
Presently, the big Nobody was nursing a glass of brandy to celebrate being alive again, relaxing on the giant couch in his quarters of the Castle that Never Was-- sure, the fore part of his personal haven was a gym, for much-needed exercise, but in the back he had a cozy li'l apartment that was his true haven and home.
It was a small, conservative, 1-room apartment, furnished only lightly and quite devoid of a television, though the Silent Hero did see the need for a computer. The carpet was a pale tawny color, furniture was either light brown (the tables), dark brown (his bedcovers and the cabinets), or gray (the couch), the appliances were white, and the walls were a very conservative beige.
Oh, yes, Lexaeus took nearly as much pride in his housekeeping/homemaking (the difference being that "homemaking" was generally a term for stay-at-home mothers) skills as he did in his strength and intelligence (anybody who thought he had minimal cranial capacity was swiftly put out of their misery), and the main tactic he used in interior design was "the less you have, the less you have to worry about".
This was fully denied by his kitchen.
A small kitchen, home to a refrigerator, numerous cabinets, a sink, an electric stove (with an oven underneath), a microwave, a dishwasher, and a toaster oven. Out of the thirteen cabinets (the irony never failed to amuse him), one was for silverware, one for cooking utensils, five for non-perishable food items, and six for various dishes and the rest of his cookware. It always smelled like somebody had recently been baking in it, and this was frequently the case. Let it be said that there was never a shortage of baked goods in this apartment. A visitor, if he ever HAD visitors (which he didn't), would have been amazed that there was room for Lexaeus amid all the equipment in his kitchen.
There was one decoration in this apartment, in the entryway where he would always see it when he was returning home from a long day with the Organization XIII. A memory in solid form, of a big clumsy seven-year-old whose overly obsessive, too-caring parents were trying desperately to improve his terrible coordination through a somewhat "girly" hobby-- needlepoint. A little scrap of cloth, surrounded by a dark mahogany frame, on which the second-grade Elaeus had awkwardly embroidered a barely-legible "HOME SWEET HOME".
Lexaeus glanced over at that little fragment of his previous life. He raised the glass.
"Here's to you, me."


(OOC: I got Lex's baking habit from a fancomic, the habits of when he drinks are indeed a knock on Christianity for having a stick up their butt, the gym is more or less identical to the one he has in Castle Oblivion in Chain of Memories, the design of the apartment is similar to the one I'm sitting in now but mostly based on the living quarters I had for him in a fanfic, and I threw in the embroidery just for the hell of it, fine motor skills are terrible and my school had me doing embroidery to try and fix 'em. I kinda like that end quote, there, it's simultaneously a reminder of who he used to be and who he isn't anymore, if that makes sense at all.)