[incomplete] now with more 20% more jaw action
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.
( as the countless numbers hunger for worldwide renown/all the pimping sons of plunder will roll up their sleeves/all searching for the answers they don't even care to know/give it to me/give it to me/you like it? )
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.
( as the countless numbers hunger for worldwide renown/all the pimping sons of plunder will roll up their sleeves/all searching for the answers they don't even care to know/give it to me/give it to me/you like it? )
He sat across from the man, eying the wine in its' fruity little glass with a touch of a scowl, handling the glass like he would if he were taking a shot, downing most of it in the first swallow, shrugging. "It's wine, man. Y'don' get much weaker than that." He far greatly preferred the harder liquors the human world had to offer, but he accepted what he was given, looking up when the feeling of 'being watched' settled in.
Grimmjow sat back a bit at the barrage of questions, cocking an eyebrow. "Fer starters, y'could get somethin' harder than wine." He finished the rest of his glass, tapping it against the surface of the table before shrugging, contemplating a moment. "If th' room's still open, the place I'm squattin' in is fer shit. I want that room." He scratched along his mask, studying Lucifer again. "An' if y'pay me mostly in clothes'n sharp objects, we'll get along just fine."
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