Who's reiatsu squashin' who here, huh!!
What: Grimmjow at work. (The job he likes.)
Who: Grimmjow, Aizen
When: Thursday, October 18th
Where: Karakura Fitness Center
Rating: PG-13 (who knows with G involved)
Open/Closed to: Open just to Aizen.
"Grimmjow."
Shit, his foot was barely even in the door when he heard his name. Looking over at the fitness center manager approaching him, Grimmjow smirked lightly. It seemed as if the man had been waiting for him to come in and start his shift.
Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
Was there something he'd done wrong? Not that he knew about. Today. Maybe it was something he'd forgotten about. "What," he said, rolling his eyes as the man beckoned him over to a private room to speak. Oooh, this would be good.
"I have a new client for you."
"You know I choose my own damn clients," Grimmjow said, leaning against the wall and eyeing his nails.
"He asked for you."
"By name?"
The manager sighed faintly, hating the direction of this conversation. As if the man needed more to add to his cockiness. But he was one of their best personal trainers and it was common fact. His attitude was horrendous. But he did push those he worked with beyond what they thought capable, and that's what they paid good money for. "He asked for the best."
A grin spread over Grimmjow's lips and he pushed away from the wall. "Well, since you've stroked my ego, and admitted what I've been tellin' ya for years, maybe I'll meet with him then."
"There's one more thing. He's rather ... high profile so don't..."
Grimmjow quirked up a brow, glancing at the man. "Don't what? Piss him off? Give him a heart attack? He wants the best, he'll get the best. He came here, he doesn't want us to fuckin' baby him. I don't care who he is, could be the mayor of San Fran, if he came here to drop the love handles he's gonna. Even if he drops dead in the process."
"Just don't lose this client. He's waiting in room 4."
Rolling his eyes, Grimmjow turned on his heel and headed towards that room. High profile huh? It better be someone interesting who wasn't afraid of being worked to death. Because Grimmjow was not the trainer they wanted if they just wanted to keep up appearances of dropping by the gym once or twice a week. Oh, hell no.
(and npc goes away now.)
Who: Grimmjow, Aizen
When: Thursday, October 18th
Where: Karakura Fitness Center
Rating: PG-13 (who knows with G involved)
Open/Closed to: Open just to Aizen.
"Grimmjow."
Shit, his foot was barely even in the door when he heard his name. Looking over at the fitness center manager approaching him, Grimmjow smirked lightly. It seemed as if the man had been waiting for him to come in and start his shift.
Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
Was there something he'd done wrong? Not that he knew about. Today. Maybe it was something he'd forgotten about. "What," he said, rolling his eyes as the man beckoned him over to a private room to speak. Oooh, this would be good.
"I have a new client for you."
"You know I choose my own damn clients," Grimmjow said, leaning against the wall and eyeing his nails.
"He asked for you."
"By name?"
The manager sighed faintly, hating the direction of this conversation. As if the man needed more to add to his cockiness. But he was one of their best personal trainers and it was common fact. His attitude was horrendous. But he did push those he worked with beyond what they thought capable, and that's what they paid good money for. "He asked for the best."
A grin spread over Grimmjow's lips and he pushed away from the wall. "Well, since you've stroked my ego, and admitted what I've been tellin' ya for years, maybe I'll meet with him then."
"There's one more thing. He's rather ... high profile so don't..."
Grimmjow quirked up a brow, glancing at the man. "Don't what? Piss him off? Give him a heart attack? He wants the best, he'll get the best. He came here, he doesn't want us to fuckin' baby him. I don't care who he is, could be the mayor of San Fran, if he came here to drop the love handles he's gonna. Even if he drops dead in the process."
"Just don't lose this client. He's waiting in room 4."
Rolling his eyes, Grimmjow turned on his heel and headed towards that room. High profile huh? It better be someone interesting who wasn't afraid of being worked to death. Because Grimmjow was not the trainer they wanted if they just wanted to keep up appearances of dropping by the gym once or twice a week. Oh, hell no.
(and npc goes away now.)