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Disclaimer: Square owns all its Final Fantasy characters. The rest is mine! Mwahahaha... (As usual, thanks for the reviews. No flames or the chocobo will Meteo you.)

When You're Evil and Dead
By: Sforzie

Chapter 35: A Thousand Words

The villains room in Hell had an unofficial naptime. There was no regular day or night, but once a day all the bustling tables quieted down. Using arms and wings and fellow evil things as pillows, most of the room's occupants would doze off for a few hours. This gave the cleaning crew time to slip through and tidy up without the risk of being mauled.

Today, some time after the incident with Seymour, Kuja found that he couldn't stay asleep. It might've been the giggling of a handful of Alexandrian soldiers a few tables over, or the loud buzzing snore of a Behemoth halfway across the room...or perhaps it was just the empty spot at the table. Kefka had been called off a few days ago to put in a shift at his job, and hadn't come back yet. On the opposite side of the table Sephiroth dozed quietly, his face buried in his leather-clad arms.

Sephiroth was somewhat lucky to still be at the table, as Miss 'Top Tower' had finished up her party rental stint and had finally been returned. Sephiroth put up a rather loud fight to keep his seat, and the statuette was now perched behind the bar. The silver-haired villain shifted in his sleep, and Kuja peered at him. The edge of a notebook was sticking out from under Sephiroth's arm. Curious and bored, Kuja carefully tugged the notebook loose.

The cover was black and worn, and covered in random metallic penned doodles. It bore the noble title "Reasons Why We Like Love Kuja."

"Eeh? I didn't know they still had this..."

The first three pages were covered in Kefka's handiwork. A mish-mash of mutliated chibi chocobos and headless moogles lead to the fourth page. It bore the same title as the cover. Kuja hadn't really seen either of the men write much, but he knew well enough to guess that the somewhat erratic loopy handwriting belonged to Kefka, and that the laboriously neat writing was Sephiroth's.

The first page of reasons was simple enough:

"'She came and sat with me. And me. She has a lovely tail. And a lovely ass. And a lovely face. And a lovely smile. I like her socks. I like her boots. Black leather is always good. You're biased. I know...'"

Kuja chuckled at the next page. "'She really is a girl! Uwee!'"

He leaned back and continued reading. Past the reasons related to his Trancing, past the entries about how he kicked Flaure's ass, and past the page about how he was better looking than his brother. On and on, through twenty or so pages, until he got to one of the last pages.

"'I miss my doll, I wish she would come back. Me too. Beating up Sephiroth isn't any fun without her. Yeah.'"

The rest of the page was blank. Kuja frowned, turning to the newest page.

"'....Our doll came back. I'm so happy. I haven't been this happy since I learned how to make chocobos implode. Or since I learned about Meteor. Or since I first met her...him. I met her first. Shut up.'"

Kuja sighed, biting his lip. He set the notebook back down next to Sephiroth's head, and nearly jumped out of his chair when a hand clasped his shoulder.

"Uwee, do you always go and read other people's private things?" Kefka leaned over him, snatching the notebook up. Kuja cleared his throat.

"I....uh...didn't see anything. Honest."