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There was a sudden, sinking feeling that had made itself known when the noble stepped into his counterpart's room. Something that screamed, "you are so hopelessly screwed", in which case, in the very back of his mind, he knew this was true.
Vash grabbed a nearby chair, swung it to face Halycon, and slammed it down on the floor. He sat and drilled the boy with a stare.
Don't start another fight.
No, no, go ahead. I think I could bear watching another fight, really.
"Listen and listen well, Halycon Euphoria. If I wanted to replace you, I would have done it a long time ago."
Not exactly the friendly, cautious approach that most would go for in a situation like this, but then, if either of them were considered "most," they wouldn't be having this fight in the first place. But he had to set that one thing straight, if anything. Fidel was all good and dandy and useful, but in the end, he'd have to kill her. He had saved Halycon on a few occasions (one time by just being his counterpart), and he had put this stubborn little boy above anyone and anything else.
The noble sighed and leaned back in the chair.
"Fidel is going to give me information, and I'll use her to finally get rid of my father. After that, I'll kill her."

It made perfect sense, of course. Which was the problem. Naturally, he couldn't even have one moment.
Vash stood and kicked the chair. It screeched in protest, and he ran a hand through his hair.
"Screw these connections!" he shouted.
Temper, temper~
"Shut the ******** up." he said aloud to his demon. This was ridiculous. In a moment of heightened hysteria, he considered moving out of Pendant and starting over somewhere else. If there was a somewhere else. Just drag Halycon with him and let Fidel take over the White Building forever. She was a good girl, he didn't want to kill her, but now it all seemed so useless. Just pack up and move. Let's go Halycon. We're getting away from our pasts.
But nothing was that easy. Vash kicked the chair again, leaving a dent on it and a scuff on his formal shoes.
Easy, you need those last few threads of sanity.
"Really? For what, more futile plotting to burn a past that gives me nightmares?" The noble closed his eyes and let out a sigh, easing the tremble in his hands.
"Yes, of course." There was only one way to go, and that was up. At least, that was what he was hoping.

Vash stared at Halycon for a moment, wondering whether he should be embarrassed for his sudden act of immaturity or not. The noble slumped into the chair and turned his face to the ceiling and groaned.
"Love, you are impossible." he said, smiling despite himself. Trust his counterpart to suffer fits of laughter at a time like this. It felt like everything was okay for once, just once, even though it obviously wasn't. But how long had it been since they had laughed like nothing was wrong? Hm, he couldn't remember, which meant a long time.
He laughed under his breath, imagining the expression on someone's face if they did happen to walk in and see this...this...absurd fit. Maybe they'd guess the two of them were more insane than they had thought.
Not surprising.

He grinned and stared at the ceiling.
"No, probably not." he replied, sighing explosively. When he had walked into the room, he expected something a little more serious, and most likely a lot of arguing. It was stupid to think that now, he realized, because this was Halycon, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't stay angry with the boy. It was frustrating, really it was. But then, this was much better than what he had expected, since laughing felt good.
"We can't continue like this," Vash sighed after a moment of good silence, resting his hands on his lap. What would it be like to live a day without a nightmare, or plotting, or painful memories? It seemed utterly impossible, but he tried to grasp the idea and fathom it. He was truly convinced that if his father died, then so would his past.
No objections from his demon or soul.

The noble paused, then smiled and tilted his head so he could look at the boy in front of him at a sideways glance.
"Never mind," he dismissed. Worry Halycon now? No, not a good idea. He felt guilty just thinking about it, considering his counterpart was so much like a child. He had never truly realized how odd it was for Halycon to be only a year younger than him. Vash raised an eyebrow at him, scrutinizing him for a detail or two that would express his true age. He smirked.
None--none that he could see, anyway. Then again, he was biased. He reached out and took a lock of white-blond between his slim fingers. A haircut was probably in order, although he was sure to stay the farthest away he could possibly be from the scissors when his counterpart did decide to cut his hair. He frowned. As long as he didn't dye it some obscure neon color, he didn't care. Inwardly, he cringed.
"Fidel just delivered your paperwork, which he finished," he explained. "He could do your paperwork permanently." Halycon still stumbled around (which really didn't help Vash's nerves, honestly, he never did know what the boy would fall on), and doing loads of work didn't seem like a brilliant idea at the moment. Or any moment, where Vash was concerned.
Just the thought of doing all that work made his insides turn.

"I really don't understand why you insist on doing it, Halycon," Vash let the lock of the boy's hair slip through his fingers and leaned back in the chair a bit lazily. "And the work had to be done somehow, of course. Fidel just happened to volunteer." The noble frowned again.
Relaxing sounded perfectly fine to him, anyway. It always did. Why do the work when you have subordinates to do it for you? It didn't make sense to him at all. Really now, they were nobles.
"Besides, you can hardly walk around without stumbling over yourself. Why don't you simply sit and relax?" He smirked. He didn't know why Halycon had the need to do something productive. Maybe it was another obscure peculiarity that he really didn't understand, like how the boy could suck in an unhealthy amount of sweets in one day, or why in the world he slept with that way-too-colorful, smiley-faced blanket with characters that he could've sworn he'd seen on TV when he was about four years old.

Hm.

It was sort of endearing, he conceded, but he'd never say that aloud.

Just about every day, Fidel slept in. Alright, maybe you could say she left her duties to the idiots in the Science Department, but it wasn't like Lord Vash cared anyway. Today, she slept until the ripe time of three in the afternoon, her alarm clock screeching on her side table for God knows how long. Without opening her eyes, the girl grabbed one of her many frilly, heart-shaped pillows and threw it at the couch, where her counterpart was.
"Wakeup..." she slurred, hidden under her happy mound of blankets. "Emyyyyyrussss...waaaaakeuuup."
It didn't really occur to her that he was probably awake like she was, considering the soul connection and whatnot, so she tossed another pillow at her couch, still refusing to open her eyes and sit up.
After about the fourth or fifth pillow, it finally dawned on her that he would be awake.

...Oh.

Without thinking, Fidel shot her hand out of the blankets, hitting something solid and, she thought, vaguely resembling a nose. Second nature, even as she slept. Honestly, it would be suicide not to know how to defend herself in the White Building--what with the slimy lechers that crawled around and leering at young subordinates and rubbing their hands together. The girl coughed and sat up quickly, preparing to knee somebody in the crotch. Her hair was frazzled and she felt a bit disheveled, though.
Her hand flew to her mouth, and she gasped...and then she laughed, more out of surprise than anything.
"Oh-Oh E-EMYRUS I'M SORRY!" she apologized, holding out a hand as if she were trying to comfort him. "T-that time I didn't mean it, really!"

Now why did this feel like deja vu?