The boat drifted, and he with it, the sport of patience moving into its second hour. His line bobbed slowly, the hook and its bait untouched. Some fish peered, brought in close by the clear silver shine on the thin thread, and tempted closer by the unclaimed meal, but none of them had forfeited their freedom in the lake just yet.
The lack of activity did not leave Lexaeus frustrated, as it may have for some of his colleagues. Rather, it was these moments that he valued most. Here, where the world turned slower, almost stopping, and the constant pattern of Action/Reaction that filled life was gone. Excess thoughts were emptied out, like tipping a cup into a sink, letting the mind and body begin anew. Without this regular emptying of the cup, the mind's focus would be split across hundreds of tasks, decisions, and memories, with a clear goal or focus lost in the sometimes suffocating fog of constant thought.
Fishing, this sport of patience, was his way of meditation, one could say. Lexaeus wanted to always be as closely attuned to himself and his surroundings as possible – as much as one without a heart could manage, that is. In balance, he found focus. His thoughts were sharp and clear, rarely contradicting or going off into tangents as a result of his little hobby.
It's why he said so little. There was no need to speak more often in that balance.
The sport of patience came into its third hour today. Still no fish bit at the lure. Lexaeus simply laid back, closed his eyes, and kept his mind empty. Making space for what the rest of the day would bring. He could feel a small, brief push of wind run across his white shirt. The Organization uniform was left aside for these days- it was too awkward to wear out on the lake.
It ended too soon, as did every day he got to spend on the lake. It could have gone on for 8 hours, and it would still end too soon.
The Freeshooter appeared before him in a black warp, his eye meeting Lexaeus', hanging upside down, a small smirk on his face. Lexaeus blinked once, eyes opening, half-lidded, hands still on the thin rod.
"Sorry to cut you short again, V." Xigbar said, with a small, somewhat apologetic laugh. The Silent Hero never complained, never sighed in frustration, or snorted, furious, for being interrupted. He went along with it as if it was just a natural flow, Lexaeus a pebble being carried onward in a river.
"A meeting, II?" Lexaeus replied, now slowly reeling the lure back in, putting his fishing equipment in a corner of the boat, where it would wait for another free day to be used.
"Yeah. We might have a mission after that, too. How long before you'll be there?"
"A few minutes." Lexaeus said simply. He'd have to return the boat to shore and change back into his coat, but these were details not relevant to the question Xigbar had asked.
"Five'll get you Ten that Axel is at least 10 minutes late again. I'll see you there."
And the Freeshooter warped out.
The fishing equipment neatly stacked now, Lexaeus turned the boat, moving towards shore. Unbothered. A pebble in the river of life.
Once on the shore, he'd let his cup begin to fill again. And he'd empty it later, as he always did. He'd return to balance on the lake, and wait for the fish..