[There's a fumbling sound, a pocket communicator clattering on in a scuffle between something wooden, the sound of rustling paper and the whisper of friction against leather.]

Lexaeus!

[Zexion's voice hisses suddenly in hysterical, frantic fear, one might imagine him wide-eyed and cornered in a panic.]

Lexaeus, I need y-
[And then there's a ( Read more... )