I. OCD

"…Right. So why do you eat rice uncooked?" Vexen inquired, with a searching glance across the table at Demyx.

The Melodious Nocturne merely shrugged. "There's not much I can say about it. I like the taste, you know? Untouched. And it crunches really nicely. I guess it's like letting popcorn age a day or two – if you know what I mean?"

Vexen sat up straight in his chair suddenly, deprived of his train of thought and unable to hide his incredulity at his subordinate's eating habits. "I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean, Demyx. In fact, I've forgotten what I even summoned you here to discuss. Can we pick this up later?"

Demyx adopted a blank, quizzical stare. Who could possibly not like aged popcorn? "Sure, Vexen. Whatever you say." He was in the middle of opening a portal when Vexen abruptly rose, nearly panicking. "Wait! Put the chair back the way it was." Demyx had reversed it when he sat to talk with Vexen.

Now Number IX was even more confused. "Why? What's wrong with it?"

Vexen faltered, and took ten seconds to consider a satisfactory response. There wasn't one. "I…just like it that way. It helps me concentrate."

Demyx's look of confusion turned to one of tentative understanding as he complied with Vexen's strange request. "You know, I think they have medication for that."

"Drown yourself."