[log] Grimmjow, Shiro

Feb 10, 2008 14:32


Title: Let Me Tell Something to YOU
Characters: Grimmjow (formative), Shiro (gogodgene)
Timeline: September 1, 2007
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Grimmjow and Shiro have a little chat, but replace "chat" with "bare-knuckle brawl."

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Grimmjow was a nice fella - on the inside. He really was when the world wasn't interfering in the shape of drunk hussies who kept pawing at him like he was a fucking lifeline. "For the last time. Stop. Touching. Me. And fuck off already!" He grabbed the girl's wrists and pried them off his body.

"Aww, don't be like that, Grimmie! I jus' wanna get to know you better," the girl slurred and giggled.

"Which part of 'fuck off' didn't you get, huh?" The Arrancar had had enough of this bullshit and gave her a shove that sent her stumbling back into one of the other idiots.

"Hey pal, that's not how you treat a lady."

"That ain't a lady and it's none of yer fuckin' business, pal. Keep movin' unless ya want me to kick yer skinny ass." He grinned ferally at the other man, hoping that he'd try something.

Dealing with drunks and looking for dopers was part of the job description. Then there was the little annoying shit that was never in the contracts, but if someone fucked up, you fucked up.

The fucking owners? There were hardly responsible for shit. Especially when so many of them were backed by hordes of drug traffickers or some shit. It all trickled down to just about everyone else.

All the little shit that just annoyed the hell out of him usually produced something more fruitful if he let it go on long enough. A fight would break out, eventually. And that's all Shiro ever looked for. Something to entertain him. Nothing like a good workout.

Which is why he was immensely grateful when one of the patrons at the bar seemed to be getting a little too frisky with the people around him. Some blue-haired, cotton candy punk. The albino wasted no time in waltzing over to the scene, studying it intensely.

"Punk, ya got a lotta nerve startin' shit in here."

Grimmjow’s head whipped around, eyes narrowing at the interruption. “Who’re ya callin’ ‘punk’, asshole? Go mind yer own shit,” he snarled as he focused his attention on the newcomer. An eyebrow shot up. Holy fucking shit! What was this guy on?

The Arrancar had seen his fair share of eccentric and weird looking people but this one was… freakish. “Practising for Halloween already?”

The albino did the only thing he could do; he rolled his eyes in annoyance. The whole shocked at his appearance thing was something he could always look over. The following comment about the Halloween thing, wasn't.

It was safe to say that Shirosaki was getting a wee bit pissed off.

"I see 'ur gettin' friendly with the locals. How's 'bout ya get a little less friendly, and go sit in 'ur fuckin' seat." Shiro pointed to the vacant stool, glaring daggers at the rambunctious party-goer.

The blue-haired man remained completely unfazed by the bouncer’s murderous glare. Maybe not completely; there was undoubtedly a small spark of anticipation in his eyes. Grinning , he took a step towards Mr. White.

“How ‘bout ya get the fuck outta my face, dipshit, before I kick yer sorry ass all the way back to the cheap tunnel of horror that spat ya out?”

Oh ho ho. The guy was practically begging for a fight, and Shiro would be more than willing to give him one. The albino smirked, cracking his knuckles, and generally warming up should something exciting arise.

God, he could only hope. All the energy that had been building up all night had him aching to do something destructive.

"Listen. Ya don't know who 'ur dealin' with, so I'll give ya two options. Ya either go back to 'ur seat, and be a good drunk, or ya come out back with me, and we have a chat." Shiro straightened out his suit and tie, to show that he was ready for just about anything.

"Got it? Ya Smurf reject."

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed at the Smurf remark. Why did people call him that? Because of the hair? It didn’t make sense! Smurfs had blue skin, not blue hair. In fact, all of them except that chick were bald (he’d looked it up) - and the chick was a blonde!

The bassist didn’t feel like returning to his seat. Judging from the way Shiro straightened his clothes, they had the same thought bouncing through their heads.

“A chat outside sounds pretty good to me. Ya sure ya up for it? Wouldn’t want to mess yer nice little suit up.”

Shirosaki let out a pleased chuckle, grinning wide at the blue-haired bastard. Was it him, or were both of them looking for a fight? Of course they were. Shiro knew his own kind, and this guy was probably always looking to stir up trouble. For fun, of course.

All work and no play, afterall...

The pale bouncer bowed slightly, stretching out his arm in a way that pointed to the back door. It was close to the bar; probably there to throw the trash out at the end of the night.

Or in case someone was a little too drunk and decided it was time to hurl.

"Ladies first."

Grimmjow let the 'ladies first' remark slide and swaggered past Shiro towards the back door, a light bounce in his step. His grin had widened to the point that he looked like a shark ready to rip out a chunk of meat.

Kicking the door open, he stepped into the middle of the alley and waited for the albino. "C'mon, Halloween boy, I'll let ya have the first move. Gimme yer best."

Just what he had been waiting for all night! A little excitement, something to get the blood flowing. With a slam, the door closed, and with a smirk, Shiro took his place across from the blue-haired bozo. In mock though, the albino popped his neck and rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles afterwards.

"As a person who gets employed ta beat people up, I think ya may have made a bad decision. But here," Shiro said, shrugging off his black suit jacket. "You can hold my coat." A hard flick of his wrist sent the jacket flying at Grimmjow, effectively obscuring his view for the moment.

And Shirosaki rushed onward.

gogodgene, formative, grimmjow, log, party arc, shirosaki

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