Sense beatings
Who: grimmjerk and mentis_reae
When: Forward-dated to Sunday, at around 2 PM
Where: The Government Building in Sector 2
Summary: When does Grimmjow not have a bone to pick? This, too, has been a long time coming; a certain Hollow isn't happy with how the lawyer has chosen to respond to how their last meeting went. The meeting might be by chance - who works on the weekend's these days? Honestly - but what is going down is anything but.
Warnings: The usual swearing and some small amounts of violence.
They'd taken his sword at the door.
It'd almost been a fight then, right out there in broad daylight with a pair of jumpy, pushy security guards that were probably still grumbling suspiciously about the scarf hiding half of his face even though they had eventually let him through. Were they just stupid, letting him go like that? Scared? Were memories so short in this city that they'd forgotten how damn hard they had tried to catch him?
Or was it that Ichigo and Nel had been right. Is how I dress really that big of a fucking deal?
All of the Port knew how Aizen's generals dressed. The distinctive, orderly black and white was their calling card, their identifying mark to everyone that knew what to look for. Not all Espada had mask fragments that could be easily identified and in a city as overflowing with monsters and demons as this one, strangely colored hair wasn't all that out of place anymore. With thoroughly human clothing on in place of his uniform, what did that make him? Suddenly invisible?
Maybe. It had been like that the night he had gone out with Ichigo and it was like that now, had been, all the way down the street and up to the Government building in clothes he had either lifted or bought with the money that had appeared after New Year's. After the tension at the door, he had expected something more once he made his way inside, but the place was utterly deserted save for a stray human here and there pushing a broom or a mop along the floor. Doors were closed, office windows were dark, and the front desk supported a little sign laying out the proper business hours. Not a lick of reiatsu, or any of the other new, foreign energies he was just now learning how to sense, made so much as a blip on his internal radar.
Nothing and no one, not anywhere.
A small, embossed sign said CENTRAL OFFICE and had a small arrow pointing down a hall. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he followed it.
When: Forward-dated to Sunday, at around 2 PM
Where: The Government Building in Sector 2
Summary: When does Grimmjow not have a bone to pick? This, too, has been a long time coming; a certain Hollow isn't happy with how the lawyer has chosen to respond to how their last meeting went. The meeting might be by chance - who works on the weekend's these days? Honestly - but what is going down is anything but.
Warnings: The usual swearing and some small amounts of violence.
They'd taken his sword at the door.
It'd almost been a fight then, right out there in broad daylight with a pair of jumpy, pushy security guards that were probably still grumbling suspiciously about the scarf hiding half of his face even though they had eventually let him through. Were they just stupid, letting him go like that? Scared? Were memories so short in this city that they'd forgotten how damn hard they had tried to catch him?
Or was it that Ichigo and Nel had been right. Is how I dress really that big of a fucking deal?
All of the Port knew how Aizen's generals dressed. The distinctive, orderly black and white was their calling card, their identifying mark to everyone that knew what to look for. Not all Espada had mask fragments that could be easily identified and in a city as overflowing with monsters and demons as this one, strangely colored hair wasn't all that out of place anymore. With thoroughly human clothing on in place of his uniform, what did that make him? Suddenly invisible?
Maybe. It had been like that the night he had gone out with Ichigo and it was like that now, had been, all the way down the street and up to the Government building in clothes he had either lifted or bought with the money that had appeared after New Year's. After the tension at the door, he had expected something more once he made his way inside, but the place was utterly deserted save for a stray human here and there pushing a broom or a mop along the floor. Doors were closed, office windows were dark, and the front desk supported a little sign laying out the proper business hours. Not a lick of reiatsu, or any of the other new, foreign energies he was just now learning how to sense, made so much as a blip on his internal radar.
Nothing and no one, not anywhere.
A small, embossed sign said CENTRAL OFFICE and had a small arrow pointing down a hall. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he followed it.