Ikkaku never understood how people could seperate their time between various activities. For him, his entire life was centered around boxing. Every second was another opportunity to train. Every person he met, a potential opponent (though so far very few met his standards
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"SHUT THE FUCK UP."
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There is something formidible about a well built, bald man stalking right towards you with the glint of amusement in his eyes. "You say something, boy?"
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"Yeah man, I said 'shut the fuck up,'" he drawled. One hand rested lazily in his back pocket. "Some people've got shit todo, and I ain't up for hearin' that bitch get into a screamin' match with anyone."
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Ichigo remained relatively nonplussed until the Irish bit, one orange eyebrow raising.
"Irish? Listen, Kojak, if you're new here or whatever, get used to the shitshow. It's a twenty-four hour stereo-surround experience."
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"It's Ikkaku. Usually I'd kick your ass for saying shit like that but I'm tired as fuck and after that girl, I need a break."
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A pause, wondering at the sudden influx of new residents. Awesome. Better start lockin' the door again.
"And usually I'd kick your ass for suggestin' doin' the same to me."
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He flicked something off his finger and turned back to Red. "So, any other wackos I need to worry about?"
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And by real dangerous, he didn't mean any rough-and-tumble sorts who liked to accost people in the hallways. Especially bald ones.
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She gave the bald kid--Ikkaku?--a sneer and a half-hearted lunge as he passed her on his way back up. And to Ichigo she shouted: "Hey Douchebag, why don't you go do something productive for once? Like bang your girlfriend for the first time, puss!"
And with that she stomped back into her room, carefully choosing the loudest CD she owned and blaring it as loudly as she possibly could.
((OOC: =\ WEOIJFAWOIEF I HATE ALL FORCES THAT PREVENT ME FROM GETTING ONLINE.))
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