[After one thing gone wrong after another, after the stress of dealing with Belphegor and his room being blown up, he had gone on a 4 pack-a-day smoking binge. And now he has been out of cigarettes for the past few days. Being in the throws of nicotine withdrawal had made him restless, and unable to sleep properly. Of course sleeping on the floor
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Oy! Kid! The fuck're you doin'?
[Not waiting for a reply, he shakes the kid a bit(but not too hard), before grabbing Gokudera by the shirt, waiting for a reply.]
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of course that ended real well. Hayato lets out a string of cusses and shakes his hand. He looks up at Grimmjow with a bit of groggy confusion. What the hell was he doing there and what the hell was his face made of?!]
I was... sleepin' I think...
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Still holding onto the kid by his shirt, though.]
...Here?
The fuck's wrong with you?!
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OI! It's not like a fucking planned it! I've been having a hard time sleeping lately! That's all!
[He smacks Grimmjow's arm away so he can properly slouch back in his chair. Trying to wake up a bit more]
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There'll be unceremoniously picking the kid up, slinging him over-shoulder, and carrying him off toward Room 089, whether he likes it or not. Tables just ain't beds, and there's a bed that don't get much use in his room anyhow. So there.]
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[And cue a good deal of flailing and squirming. He and his whole 119 pounds of pure manliness... against Grimmjow. Oh yeah this was going to work perfectly]
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[Despite the kid's struggling, sooner or later they got to the room in question. Only for Gokudera to be tossed onto the bed, in a way not entirely different from how one would toss a plush animal, really.]
Look. You're sleepin' here now. Touch my shit and you're dead meat. Got it?
[And with that, there's this lazy turn and gradual heading toward the door, half-expecting Gokudera to question him or say something to give him reason to pause.]
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Tch, I'm covered in soot 'n shit, and you just threw me on your bed. Wouldn't that count for touching you shit.
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I don't give a damn about the soot from your clothes or whatever gettin' on the bed; I don't use it. Only really would if I somehow managed to get my ass kicked badly and needed to rest to heal or somethin'. Don't need regular sleep like you humans seem to.
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[The teen reaches for his handy dandy NOTEBOOK that is USUALLY in his back pocket but....
oh wait...
it blew up with his room. Nevermind...]
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Tch, why the fuck do you care anyway?
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[Okay, that's a bit of an exaggeration. He wasn't exactly planning on FORCING the kid to crash there, and wouldn't stop the kid if he tried to leave, but as far as war of the wills goes, here's hoping Dera would back down.]
...
Besides, at least this hole in the ground's not burnt to shit.
Yeah. Uh. You're welcome, or whatever.
[And with that, exit Grimmjow. He's no good with this mushy 'trying to look out for people' shit.]
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