Eighteenth Secret: Emergence
[The feed clicks on as the PCD is half-placed, half-dropped down on Aizen's low writing desk, showing a view of a house in a state of mild disarray but notable abandonment: dust on the desk and on the pages arranged on it, wilted flowers in a pot in the corner, even the footprints of some animals on the dusty floor. Aizen is walking around the room and examining the damages, clearly troubled.]
No, this simply does not make sense... how could it have been... how long...? The tricks of this place...
[Coming back around to the desk, his gaze falls on the active PCD. After a moment's hesitation, he picks it up and speaks hesitantly into it.]
Ah, pardon me, but... what date is it?
[OOC: Back in the game and ready to party. Seriously, Shinigami's honor although probably not this Shinigami X_X. Szayel-mun, I am SO sorry, I promise I won't drop the ball on you again. Promise. Swear. If there's any way I can make it up to you.
No, this simply does not make sense... how could it have been... how long...? The tricks of this place...
[Coming back around to the desk, his gaze falls on the active PCD. After a moment's hesitation, he picks it up and speaks hesitantly into it.]
Ah, pardon me, but... what date is it?
[OOC: Back in the game and ready to party. Seriously, Shinigami's honor although probably not this Shinigami X_X. Szayel-mun, I am SO sorry, I promise I won't drop the ball on you again. Promise. Swear. If there's any way I can make it up to you.