[incomplete] now with more 20% more jaw action

[ihasanarm]

Who: Grimmjow, Lucyifer
When: After initial contact via journals
Where: Lucifer's restaurant
Rating: TBD
Warnings: Grimmjow's mouth, and perhaps etc?
Summary: He's not a dog, but whistle and he comes. Grimmjow goes to meet his new employer and stay somewhere that has a possibility of heat.

Comments

[ihasanarm]

Patience was a worthless quality as far as Grimmjow cared; he much preferred to act now and pay later (one of his bigger flaws, in all honesty). The restaurant didn't seem too bad, though Grimmjow could see himself becoming very bored in quite a short amount of time. He clicked his tongue, giving a 'tch', before he was approached, watching the man who came toward him carefully.

He glanced down to the proffered hand, taking it and clasping, not quite remembering the point of shaking hands. "Y'd be right, unless there's another fucker w'blue hair an' a hole in his gut runnin' 'round here somewhere." And for the bizarre stuff that seemed to be happening in this place, he really wouldn't put it past the 'gods' or whatever happened to be running this freakshow.

"That'd be good, s'long as y'don't ask me where the fuck it goes. I'unno either." He returned his hands to his pockets, studying Lucifer intensively and making no pretense of hiding the fact that he was doing so, though he made it less obvious than normal that he was looking down on the man, relaxing his stance into more of a slouch. "S'not bad." He gestured with a bloody elbow to the room, shrugging. "Least it s'not white."