[The first thing to go, after he'd figured out how the place worked, was the uniform. It wasn’t necessary, and Grimmjow felt no loyalty to the bastard who’d given it to him. Getting rid of it left him at something of a loss; much as he disliked human things, the clothes they wore were the only ones he knew, and after fighting with it for too long,
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Comments 63
... Until she spots a certain blue-haired Espada and has to do a double-take. She hadn't seen him since she first arrived in this place over a year ago... Totally forgetting her manners, she's staring at those mismatched buttons.]
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Scowling, Grimmjow stalks closer, his hands wedged into his pockets. When he's within normal conversational range, he tosses his head back and fixes her with a glare.]
The fuck are you starin' at, woman?
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[Oh dear, she hasn't forgotten Ichigo's warning but it would just be rude to get away now. She does her best to smile through her nervousness.]
Er, that is to say... hi, you look nice? Eh heh heh...
[Real smooth, Orihime.]
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Why is she complimenting him?
Finally, he gives up.]
What?
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Sonido takes him to the corner of the building and he looks around it at the hollow.]
Yeah? What're you lookin' at?
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N-Nothin'!
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Who're you?
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Oi! Grimmjow. [And maybe he's smirking a bit.] I wasn't sure you'd come.
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Prepared for obstinate refusal, Grimmjow's taken aback when Ichigo runs toward him. He's equally nonplussed by the way the shinigami's smirking at him, almost like he's glad to see him. And that doesn't make a damn bit of sense.
Eyes narrowing with suspicion, Grimmjow glares at him, suspecting a trick.]
The fuck're you talkin' about, shinigami?
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[Alright, so maybe he was coming on a little enthusiastic. Shoving his hands in his pockets and affecting a "not like I care" demeanor is easier said than down, never the less. He mostly manages a vaguely moody an unfocused look. The shinigami kicks his foot and shrugs.]
Or, you know, whatever.
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[He says it tentatively, like he's never heard the word before. And maybe if he'd been paying attention beyond "going to fight" and actually listened to the spiel about balls and pins and knocking them down, he would've remembered. Unfortunately, talk of fighting, coupled with Kurosaki's presence, had pretty effectively nullified any memory he might've had of extraneous conversation.
Shrugging, he brushes past it in hopes that they can get down to the main event.]
We gonna fight now?
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Huh... so much Christmas stuff in the windows... is it that time of year already? [a groan] It was spring when I left!
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What the fuck was going on?
Scowling, not liking the feeling of disoriented confusion in the least, Grimmjow stomped forward. There was only one way to get to the bottom of this.]
Hey! Kurosaki!
[No one's ever been able to accuse him of being too subtle.]
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There's so many reiatsus about in the town that he doesn't even really notice Grimmjow until he yells out his name. He turns to look at Grimmjow with gold iris, black sclera eyes, which blink in confusion]
Ah... Grimmjow! You're here? [getting a load of that outfit] ... I think you forgot to finish buttoning up your shirt.
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There's half a dozen different things he could say, and an equal number of actions he could take. Still confused, even if the expression has disappeared under a frown, Grimmjow opts to stand there, about ten feet away, and stare. He doesn't even register the comment about his shirt in the face of the more pressing question clawing its way up the back of his throat.]
What the fuck happened to you?
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