"It's been a while since your hair was brown," Isis commented, drying off some tall beer glasses. Seth ducked his head a little, hunching his shoulders.
"I thought it would be a nice change," he said softly. He fidgeted much more than Allecto, Willow or Seto did, hands always in movement. She stopped drying the glasses for a second.
"Are you hurt that deeply? Are you ready to go back?" he jerked as she spoke, both questions too close for his comfort. He pursed his lips, fingers drumming on the bartop.
"It would... be nice..."
"You can't you know,"
"...no...but it would still be nice,"
"You can only move forward," she smiled softly, "and sometimes forward is better." A row of nine glasses were set before him. Each one inverted, she added another as it was dried.
"If I could have one thing in the world..."
"Don't be so melanchooly. The past is the past. Like these glasses," she placed another in front of him, "I can wash and dry them as many times as they will last, and each time they look the same. But they are different, because they have been through different things. Imagine the stories they would tell you. Imagine the stories you would tell them." Then she left him, and thirteen glasses. Seth picked one up, placing it at his lips as if he were to drink.
"Who're you?" Sharp chocolate eyes accused him. Bakura leaned against the bar, half dressed, hair tumbling down past his waist. Seth smiled, it was nice to see Bakura. The thief was up front with you, not hiding behind false lies; and Bakura didn't speak like Isis did. The brunette found it hard to listen to Isis for long periods of time, it made his head hurt.
"Seth." he held out a hand. Bakura eyed it suspiciously.
"Malik wa?"
"Out."
"In!" The blond bounded in, happily giving Seth an embrace.
"...off...please..." Seth muttered. Bakura smirked. Malik pouted.
"Bakura, this is Seth!" The blond grinned, putting the orange juice in the refridgerator.
"We've met," Bakura clarified.
"Ah. Care to get some new clothes, Seth?" There was a moment of understanding, something Bakura picked up on, but was excluded from.
"Sounds good."

"Red doesn't suit you as well as blue did," Malik commented, he was standing in the doorway of the room Seth was borrowing. The brunette was seated at a desk, writing, candles strewn about the room.
"I like red," Seth replied, picking at the hem of his red silk shirt.
"Any reason why?" Malik smiled, Seth was rather mismatched, the red silk shirt offsetting the faded jeans. And yet... the musician turned poet had the same beauty Seto had. The same skill Allecto had, edge and melancholy that Willow had and something new which Seth had. It was hard to pinpoint Seto-Seth, hard to figure him out. Part of Seto-Seth's mental defense was the switching of the personas.
"..it reminds me of you..."

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