{MERCY} [open]

[ryuken]

Rain poured down from the heavens. God seemed to have saw it necessary to curse these impure lands with a righteous torrent that night. As thunder and lightening crackled and flashed in the distance and most late-night businesses seemed close up - the streets, from the convenient-stores to the bordellos, seemed to be emptying in an unorganized and an ashamed manner.

Streaks of red shone down the parking-lot as the final few cars left in a bit of a rush. The rain caused their bright crimson colors to sparkle slightly against the wet asphalt as they emanated through their protective plastic shieldings, the street lights above them seemed to extend their brightness like arms, stroking the cars carelessly as they passed by - the bright yellow orbs rolling over their smooth bodies in a rather beguiling fashion. Water trickled down the awning, splashing loudly as it hit the concrete loop which the ambulances would take for dropping off the sick in need of immediate attention, the sliding door of the Emergency Room entrance electronically slid - opening and closing - with that same sort of carpet-to-carpet drag one would normally hear as if an air tight seal was repeatedly being broken. The Karakura Hospital was, for the most part, closing to the public for the remainder of the night.

This was 01:03 AM.

Outside, against the wall and under the metal awning stood Ryuken in his less-than-relaxed business attire, a white lab-coat with its sleeves rolled up, unbuttoned to reveal his lazily tucked button-down shirt with tie matching in color, black slacks running down his legs and held to his waist by a jet-black belt with a silver buckle. He was in a mental state of impure relaxation as a cigarette hung from between his lips - the only thing stopping that stick of tobacco from falling out was his hand which was pinching it close to the butt, holding it in his mouth. The glimmer of the street lights and the passing cars unaffected him as he stood there, sleeves rolled up and hair sticking to his brow in a bit of a sweat. It was another day of work for him - another day of his occupation. The number of patients was fluctuating again. The usual freak accidents were becoming more and more common. From crumbling buildings of 'deteriorating structures' as reports read, to the odd cases of murder (ranging from the usual bullet wounds which required the even more usual surgical procedures, to the unusual lacerations of the bodies of men and women alike). Ryuken may have had a guess or two as to what was really going on, however he was not the kind of Doctor to play detective. As he had told himself time and time again, he was, and still remains, content. No manner of situation could change that, nor could it take away the normalcy he had built around himself for so long. Flicking off what remained of his cigarette with a pair of agile fingers onto the rain soaked ground (with the assumption that this divine torrent would put out its embers), he turned for the sliding doors, nearly running into one of the Nurses as she was leaving.

"E-excuse me, Dr. Ishida, I should have payed more atten--..." she called in a guilt-stricken tone with worry smeared across her face. It was apparent that she felt to have nearly run into the Emperor of Japan himself.

Those words were, at least, all the good Doctor stood for to hear as he carried on. She watched with her mouth partially gaping as Ryuken simply continued to step forward, not even paying her a careless glance. She grumbled a curse upon herself for her foolishness and carried on into the rain - the one thing protecting her from that ghastly torrent being one of her thick medical texts. She was home-bound.

The door behind Ryuken slid shut, cutting off the connection between the outside rains and the inside silence. It was a rather miraculous day - the E.R. was finally free from any and all occupants and though the weather was a sure sign of bad things to come (from the run of the mill car accidents to the typical awkward calls). This was, in no small part, due to the Ryuken's own personal presence among the sick and wounded. He, for the most part, was done with his personal 'shift' and was destined for his office where he would simply sit, perhaps have a drink and fill out any remaining paperwork necessary for the daily bureaucratic hospital-grind. He found himself instead, however, stuck in the empty lobby. At that moment he truly felt like doing little more than simply standing, leaning against the front desk as would any visitor and staring at the neatly organized layout of papers, trays and an empty receptionist chair.

We'll need more... his thoughts trailed off. Nothing that would interest anyone (not even you, the reader). He was going on in his head about something of very vague importance as he was suddenly overcome by such a laziness that not even the Earth's demise could shake him to action.

He was, admittedly, tired.

The glow of the hallway's more prominent flourescent lights caused his glasses to attain a rather ferocious glare as he stood there in his rolled up sleeves, his tie curling on the desk like a snake that had already sprung forth and struck his neck - a symbol of his demonic pact with something called 'work' and 'human reality', even when being human was something he was very far form on more than one occasion. He stood there against the desk, leaning onto it with the full length of his forearms as his mind taken by some random office knick-nack sitting harmlessly on top of a heavy stack of papers. Some of the lights within the hallway began to flicker and then shut off in a rather rhythmic fashion. The center lights trailing down the more important hallways, along with the floor lights and sharp-red exit lights remained on, though they were dimmed to provide an environment designed for sleep.

He was, for the most part, alone.

Did I lock the door? he thought.
His question would, most likely, soon be answered.

[[OOC: Don't allow length to intimidate. I just like making nice entrances. Besides, it's been a good two years since I've done this with sincerity, so bask in what you've all deemed extinct. I promise to be active enough to continue this post... so get in dang-it! As for having good reason - you could be anything from curious Arrancar to Shinigami. Someone was bound to have sense spiritual presence from a lazy, careless Ryuken. This thread will be, most likely, strictly social and non-combat for the safety of your characters (ol' Ryuken knows his strength).]]

[Deleted]

::Grimmjow::

The battle that had set him free—it had all begun in Karakura. Sure, he had to lose a few battles to get to this point, and sure, he had never planned to make it through (instead wanting to die there, in battle, like a hero); Yet he was here, alive and well. He had more achievements under his belt now: a liason on earth, a Gigai, not to mention that he was able to travel successfully from Hueco Mundo to Earth to Soul Society whenever he wanted. He had decided to see what had happened to the place after Aizen had finished with it and found it apparently untouched. Aizen hadn’t even made it there, or Karakura had the best road crew in existence (and was probably underpaying them, too).

It was raining. Grimmjow wasn’t used to rain; aside from a few days when he was recovering in Kiel, he never saw rain. It made Karakura town seem melancholic and sleepy, everything moved more slowly when it rained. Even cars slowed down in the rain (apparently, cars were the fastest thing in the human world), headlights turning raindrops into a kind of liquid diamond (shining and falling and shattering like kings and rulers, the bigger they are, the more brilliantly they break

[/b]). The world looked gray when it rained; a shining, sparkling kind of gray.

He kept to the sidewalks, surveying the town with eagle eyes—he wasn’t planning on being caught off-guard by hollows or shinigami tonight. He wasn’t worried about humans; they were humans after all, they were weak and most were asleep, judging from the lack of lights in the buildings around him and a very large clock telling him that it was past one o’clock in the morning. Regardless of how other hollows viewed it, earth was really growing on Grimmjow. There was variety, there was excitement, there were rain and days and nights. In fact, he thought he’d stay a night or two, just because…why not?

The problem just so happened to be that he was strapped for cash, and he doubted any human in their right mind would take in a stranger in a trench coat at one in the morning even if they had been shot. Hotels were too expensive, there wasn’t a hostel nearby, and he couldn’t keep walking comfortably in the rain—it was really starting to pour. He figured his best bet was to find a public place like a shopping mall or hospital and find a place where he could wait out the rain undiscovered and possibly sleep if he happened to get tired.

After a few long minutes of walking, he found what he had been looking for. [/justify][/color]

空座総合病院
Karakura General Hospital

That was all he needed to see. Pulling the dark blue coat around his shoulders, he jogged across the shimmering black car-path to a covered area. It was well-lit, and thankfully dry. Sitting under the metal roofing, he shook out his hair, which was perfectly soaked and falling into his face, and his coat, which had done well in protecting his clothes (a black t-shirt emblazoned with the words "Rise Against" and a barcode design, basic jeans and heavy boots) for the most part. The motion prompted the electric door beside him to slide open with a startling pssh; somebody either forgot to lock the thing or was still expecting visitors. Assuming the former, he walked into the hospital lobby without much effort at being “stealthy”.

In retrospect, that was not the best idea: He felt the one thing he never thought he would feel again the second he walked in—it was reiatsu, and a lot of it. In the back of his mind, he was thanking Johann for his Gigai. In the front of his mind, he was riled up and ready to attack. He reached to his side, ready to pull out his sword for an intimidating challenge—

No sword. He must have left it in Hueco Mundo. Impulsivity, he was finding, could be a very, very bad thing. Even his gikongan was left at home, so he was left with what strength his Gigai had (which actually happened to be quite a bit). He looked around for the one giving off the energy he was sensing and saw just one man standing at the desk, an old blue-head dressed in the stuffiest suit imaginable. While logic said he had to be the guy, Grimmjow had a hard time believing that. Still, he was now extremely cautious as he proceeded, unarmed, past the severe-looking man (a medic, Grimmjow assumed) and into a triage room, crouching just under the window. This was not going according to plan, but if old blue-head wanted a fight, well, he could just come and get some. A younger him would have gone out and challenged the guy, but with freedom had come a lot more to live for. He couldn't be as rash as he used to be.

C'mon, guy...just one excuse...

OOC: I like nice entrances too.

[Nanao Ise]

Reconnaissance was the main purpose of this trip to the human world, but Nanao was quite out of practice at stalking through shadows and lingering just out of flickering street lights.She did however enjoy playing this part feeling rather like a private investigator from one of those old detective novels, and she had dressed for the occasion too. A stylish beige mac coat, fitted to emphasize every curve, dark leather boots reaching to her knees to protect her lower limbs from the elements and a black umbrella with a long wooden handle clutched tightly in her left hand. It had turned out they had been completely necessary, and she was glad she had thought to prepare for this sudden monsoon. She had been getting caught in the rain far too much recently, the weather seeming to follow her and her stormy moods. The man she was observing, this Ryuken Ishida Quincy & Doctor extraordinaire, made her uneasy. From her position she could catch the occasional blaze from the end of his cigarette as he drew upon it, and the occasional glimmer of his glasses. Like her, he seemed to be avoiding the direct glow from the fluorescent lights surrounding the hospital, as he finished his smoking break (a foul human habit Nanao had never understood) she watched perturbed as he collided with a woman he appeared to know (she knew him at least) but have little regard for, as he left her mumbling without she much as a glance. How rude... Her distaste showed plainly on her normally stoic face, and she knew she would loathe this encounter even more than she had first thought. Just as she was about to set off after her target, a figure appeared through the pelting rain, and after a short pause headed into the entrance after the quincy. Unable to detect any definable features and sensing only the faintest of reiatsu traces she shrugged off the foreboding feeling and cautiously followed, her heels clicking conspicuously against the slick asphalt.

As she entered the hospital reception through the automatic doors brought to life by her very presence, she drew down her umbrella and scanned the area for some sort of staff room. Finding a door that spelled it out for her, she glanced around subtly then walked as quietly as she could through the port. Carefully hanging up her surprisingly dry coat an placing the soaking umbrella beneath, she searched around for some sort of uniform she could disguise herself with; the quincies colleagues would be less likely to question her if she blended in. She pulled on a lab coat, and mimicking her target she rolled up the sleeves revealing her pale forearms, one lightly scorched from a recent training debacle. Looking like quite the professional, easily passable as a visiting physician, she headed back out to find his office. A directory pointed her down a long corner and as she paced down it the lights suddenly flickered then cut out. Left frozen in the dark, heart beginning to quicken, with the only light to guide her the crimson sign for the exit at the other end of the hallway. Damn... Suspicious that somehow her being there had triggered the power out in the corridor, she began to follow the impressive reiatsu signature of her targets trying to suppress her own at the same time, and block out the faint traces from the other figure. She didn't think the mysterious visitor would be much of a threat, but her hand slid over the hilt of her zanpakuto concealed beneath the lab coat at her waist. She did miss having it in her sleeve. Finally she reached the source, and inhaling deeply she reached out to grab the door handle. Twisting it without breathing, ever so slowly, she pushed against the door and- Couldn't move it. At all. Sheepishly she let out a nervous cough, then rapped her knuckles against the door, peering left and right trying to calm her nerves.

"Ryuken Ishida? I'd like to talk with you..."

Introducing herself before he answered would likely result in a swift rebuff, so she would keep it a mystery till she was inside.

[ryuken]

[[OOC: I was actually in the lobby of the Emergency Room entrance, leaning against a nearby desk with my attention taken away from the door. So, in essence, you've passed me by, my dear Nanao. I always come prepared though, so watch me turn these tables around.]]

The doors made the sound of their typical drag and he heard the entrance of someone - or something - behind him. He cared too little to even turn. Who would, in their right mind, dare get near someone as intimidating as Dr. Ryuken Ishida? Perhaps a tourist, someone lost. Turning his head slightly to peer over his shoulder, however, he saw no one. Only a few wet tracks remained which lead into a nearby triage room. He let out a soft sigh - the floor lights seemed to give away this intruder's position all too easily. Someone was possibly out to steal medicine or pills, anything to sate that hunger for drugs - to sever themselves from the harsh realities of the world. It would surely hurt the criminal to find out that all of those cabinets were locked and connected to an extensive alarm system. To Ryuken it was a job best left to the proper authorities. He looked back over the desk and after some intense thought, decided to do something (chasing the intruder was not one of those things).

Prior to the arrival of the second of the two unexpected guests, Ryuken heaved himself back up to a better proper posture and began to head toward his office. Some ways away he heard the mechanical doors slide open once more - ghosts perhaps? Spirits? - which he debunked as a druggie the first time and a strong gust of wind the second. Perhaps the thief was simply startled and ran off. None the less, there was a presence now within the hospital's ground floor. Two specific presences. One slipped away into the hallway and off into triage room - the druggie hadn't left - Ryuken, in actuality, no longer thought it to be a druggie or a thief. Before he began heading toward his office, the other, as Ryuken took to another hall with a sharp turn, seemed to be more cool, calm and collected as it went about its business in a rather determined and tight fashion. The clicking of boots in the dark recesses of the hospital halls was once more little to be concerned about - a nurse or two probably returning for a paper, clipboard or maybe purse or duffle-bag. It was a sure shame he didn't feel the need to play "Ghost Buster" that night or take the role of a police officer - it might have simply made him feel better... or reconnect him with his more youthful side.

Let the spirits visit the dead or dying, or witness their own bodies within that cold morgue - at least that was what Ryuken thought would be best. Using his administrative key-cards he slipped into the elevator and was taken higher up into the hospital. The smooth and relaxing jazz music strummed through the elevator's speakers caused him to lean against the walls of the metal box in a rather sleepy fashion as it slowly lifted him higher and higher into the heavens. He could have sat there and fallen asleep until...

You've reached...

A female voice rang out the number thirty-two (or was it thirty-three? Thirty-five? Who counted?), interrupting the smooth-jazz, as the elevator door slowly opened and onward he went, down the hall, taking one left and then maybe another. His hands were dug deep into his pockets and due to the constant flow of air conditioning throughout the building he was no longer wet or sweating. The linoleum floors were cleaner here - proof that not many bothered setting foot on this floor save for the more extravagantly rich patients or "customers" as some of the more pompous doctors called them. Passing by the mostly empty rooms, he came to his office doors - two rather large simple-oak doors with a polished gold-painted knob on each one, where, to his surprise, he spotted a woman dressed in a stylish beige mac coat, fitted to emphasize every curve, with a pair dark leather boots presumably reaching to her knees. The floor lights caused her smooth leather boots to glisten and shine, and her black hair only complimented her attire in the best way possible - like a detective from a novel, though there was something more about her which, to Ryuken's senses, made her important. Ryuken stood regardless, watching her without a notable expression across his face, as she called out the words...

"Ryuken Ishida? I'd like to talk with you..."

... he smiled.

He did not always receive guests and for those brave and daring enough to enter the mouth of the dragon (also known as his office) he saw as commendable feat. This strange woman who was brave enough to slip through the unlocked sliding doors and find her way up the steps and now here, to his office, would receive the best hospitality he could muster.

"The doctor isn't in his office at the moment," he spoke in the same way smoke moved - smoothly, coolly, carelessly and in a mesmerizing twirl; all traits to be regarded as positive, "he was out having a cigarette the last time I checked... why do you need?"

Perhaps this woman was, in fact, a detective, coming to speak about the death of a patient or coming to speak about some fanciful lawsuit which he would have to explain in a lawyer-like manner (something he normally hated doing).

He would approach her without even thinking if this could be some disgruntled relative of a patient he couldn't save. His hands were in his pockets and he, for the most part, was defenseless. His Quincy Cross hung within the inside of his business coat which was inside the office, hung onto the back of his desk chair, along with other Quincy devices. Regardless of this unfortunate fact he was more than sure of his abilities to evade.

"Perhaps conversation is best held inside?" he would pull out a hand from his right pocket, a hand that was sanitized countless times throughout the day and may have lingered just slightly with the smell of second-hand smoke.

He offered her a hand-shake, a sign of peace.

Would she accept this offering or cast it aside?

[Nanao Ise]

A hand shake! Wow it must be my lucky day. Maybe it was something about her attire or mysterious demeanour that made this imposing man respect her more than the colleague that he had shunned before. Thoughtfully she looked at his outstretched offering of peace, then took it in her own, gripping it firmly, but not with as much strength as she could muster, and shaking it only once before releasing. It was warm and smooth, slightly dry from the constant decontamination, and she could smell it on him along with a vague scent of that damn smoke. With a quixotix smile and a brief moment of eye-contact from behind thin lenses, she realised if she could maintain this mutual feeling of equality she might just be able to get what she came for without trouble. Though she was not as weak as she looked, in her gigai her kidou skills (her main forte) would be severely hampered and she doubted she could force anything from this regal gentlemen even at the edge of her sword. She had thoroughly researched him, and from what little she could find (he seemed as evasive as a phantom), she realised that he was definitely a force to be reckoned with. Exactly what they currently needed, an ally for when the hollows began there inevitable ascension for revenge, but she doubted he would be interested in alliances with a shingami. Now it was all about how to keep his interest invested, because if he grew bored he would toss her aside like own of his smoked-out cigarettes.

"I would tend to agree, but it seems this place isn't as secure as you assumed. Maybe you could buy me a coffee and on the way down we could check in on your other visitor who almost certainly won't be so interested in pleasantries."

So bold, Nanao, what would your captain say? It would be preferable to stay away from his own domain she realised, maintaining the balance of power. He would certainly be more of a threat near his own instruments, whether Quincy bow or set of scalpels. The unknown presence also was concerning her the more she thought about it, and she would rather take care of any potential problems before she attempted to take on Ryuken.

[Deleted]

If Grimmjow had been worried about the older man in the lobby, he need not have. The man had disregarded him entirely (something that infuriated him to no end, but that he figured was for the best), and left the lobby. He had been about to stand up, letting out a short whoosh of the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, when he heard the doors slide open again, allowing another person entry to the hospital.

This was not his night, was it? He returned to his resting position under the sill and listened. The footsteps were light and sharp, so he decided it was a woman in heels. She had spiritual presence, he could feel it, but she was obviously trying to hide it. She couldn’t hide the shinigami stink on her, though, and Grimmjow waited until she too clicked away to places unknown before he stood up and started rifling through the triage room. He noted a rather uncomfortable bed or bench that was covered with paper, a few chairs, a human computer, and reams and reams of paper stacked in places that seemed perfectly planned. The room stank worse than Szayel’s infirmary; Grimmjow thought that maybe it was because it was just too clean. There were four or five devices whose possible function eluded him entirely (what was the stick with the metal on the end for?), and he didn’t want to waste his time on them.

What he would waste his time on, however, was a large cabinet, bolted shut and certainly full of secrets—secrets fit for the taking. He broke the locks with considerable ease and was confronted by a legion of white bottles of varying sizes.

Hydrocodone? Ibuprofen? The heck is this? I don’t need this junk.

He put them back, shutting the door to the cabinet. That was a waste of time. He needed to explore, get himself acquainted with the area in case he was attacked. Stepping incautiously out of the room, he slunk down dimly lit hallways, noting anything that could be of help. There were signs and doors everywhere, all as cryptic to him as the intricate vaulted halls of Las Noches were to intruders, he realized. He opened several doors, only finding sick humans in repose. Frustrated, he turned down a darker hall and opened a large set of double-doors; he was greeted by a large, airy room painted in white. It was full of wrought-iron chairs and wooden tables; it must have been a meeting room of some sort. An interesting place in and of itself, but what Grimmjow found most interesting was a large box with a glass panel on the front. There were lettered buttons on the side, and while there were no lights on inside, he could just make out rows of small bags. Human food? Grimmjow stuck his hand in the trapdoor under the glass in an attempt to check and found that the door swung upward in such a way that he couldn’t reach the items on display. Infuriated, he kicked the glass panel, shattering it.

”…Oops. Ah, well. Might as well take a few. Stupid door. That’s whatcha get when ya mess with the Grimmjow, Heh.” He declared to no one in particular as he grabbed a few of the bags and meandered out of the room with a grin of vindictive achievement tugging at his lips. He kept on down the hallway until he was confronted by two large steel doorways. He stared at them mutely and then busied himself with one of the bags he had picked up, stuffing the rest in his pockets. The bag was decorated in a garish orange with a bizarre-looking cartoon cat eating what must have been the product. He popped the bag open with ease and ate one. They weren’t half bad, the flavor was completely foreign to him, but he figured it wasn’t a bad taste and wouldn’t kill him.

Re-examining the doors, he noticed a button with an arrow set into a smooth oaken wall. He must have overlooked it before, he thought irritably, and lazily elbowed the button. It immediately lit up and a small “ding!” sounded. It must be broken, He thought to himself as he began, thoroughly vexed, to walk away from the doors. He was caught by surprise when he heard a second ding and a whoosh behind him, and he bolted to the doors. One was open. He stepped in and randomly pressed a button. (“34”? “35”? What were these things for?)

The human world is just slap-full of surprises tonight, isn’t it? He thought to himself. He wondered where this box was going to take him, and wondered where that shinigami and that old guy went, but he figured there was no need, since they were likely to leave soon.

You've reached floor...

He didn't pay attention to the rest as he whipped his head around trying to find the source of the female voice and the doors slid open with a metallic hiss.

[ryuken]

Other visitor? he thought. In his mind he would perk up an eyebrow to show curiosity but, on the outside, his facial expression turned from that odd smile to something less interested. Was he so off-putting? The Shinigami was not wrong - there was another person present within the hospital who was definitely not a patient. He felt it the very first time he set eyes on those wet tracks. It would only be a matter of time before he (and Nanao) would run into this newcomer.

"I," he paused for a short moment, thinking of how to word the rest of his sentence, "suppose we can. I do hope you drink," he took out a white and blue key-card from his pocket and slid it down on a wall-mounted reader. The doors the Shinigami was trying to open earlier made a loud click, unlocking. He reached over to open the door to reveal his office.

It was not a grandiose or large office behind those fine oaken doors, no. Instead it was a rather small one. What was inside however, could be considered impressive. At the very back of the room were two large windows which seemed to rise up toward the heightened ceiling in an intimidating manner, the rain pitter-pattering against the window sill and the city lights gleaming like stars (if one didn't know any better, they would think that all of the stars had fallen onto the earth below). In front of those windows stood a miniature refrigerator, giving off a very soothing hum and a fine-leather office chair designed for perfect comfort. A very sleek and expensive Carpathian elm desk stood prominently in the room with its intricate designs and edges, a rather thin LCD monitor standing on top of it next to which sat a paper tray thickly stacked with forms dealing with the everyday administration of the hospital. At the head of the desk from the entrance-side was a tag carved into (what would be mistaken as that cheap, almost plastic-like faux wood) actual wood. Bold white letters read,

DR. ISHIDA RYŪKEN

, two chairs sat before the desk which was, in a sense, rather large and intimidating. The walls on both sides were lined with shelves. On the left it would seem there were well organized documents and records (almost evenly aligned against one another from A to Z). On the right there was a shelf full of possibly the most dryly written medical and scientific texts imaginable regarding anatomy and medicine with long words an drawn-out explanations about some very trivial viruses or medical dilemmas. He gave Nanao a rather awkward nod as the lack of too much concern in her voice of an intruder seemed to linger with him (she seemed to exude a rather brave aura, for a Shinigami).

Ryuken stepped into his office rather swiftly, walking over to his desk and slipping a hand into his coat pocket to pull out his Quincy Cross and a seele schneider, one of the very few doodads he kept on his person, all in a single stroke. For the most part it would be hard to see what he was doing, but he could surely feign it off as him simply picking up or checking a cellular phone (he had one but unconditionally hated it).

Turning his body back toward Nanao, he seemed to return beside her rather effortlessly as though he managed to float through the air. Was he using Hirenkyaku? That was for her to take a guess at. His lab-coat and clothing unchanged and his aura even more unmoved, he gave her his own permission to move forward so that they could find this unwelcome guest.

"Shinigami first," he said, almost in a mocking tone.

Would that startle her? The fact that he already knew what she was?
There was time to patch up relations over a drink - later.

[Nanao Ise]

What a view... Moving forward into the small but magnificently furnished office, she checked herself at the last moment turning the step into an innocent shifting of weight, perhaps similar to an indication of boredom. Barely resisting the urge to mention something about compensating, she scanned around his magnificent stronghold wondering why her office couldn't get a similar upgrade. Her gaza intensified as he walked with purpose to his desk, deft in his hidden movements, yet obvious at the same time. Well, there went the equality, but what had she expected trying to catch him off guard in his own office? She was about to make an impatient comment when he appeared quite suddenly beside her. Curving a smirk as he revealed her disguise in his snide tone, she gave a light shrug before stepping out in front of him as if to say, c'est la vie. She had hoped the outfit and suppression of reiatsu would have been enough, but a man of Ryukens talents would have immediately knew something was out of place. Still the allure of mystery was urging him to follow her and that was enough for now.

As they approached the elevators, she caught the sound of the door opening and the bland feminine voice, but no one appeared. Hmm. Perplexed, she continued but froze as the trickle of reaitsu became apparent. She reached the doors and turned to face the wretched arrancar that stood before her, taking in his electric blue hair, predatory feline eyes and trademark air of arrogance. Then the smell hit her, the overpowering scent of the processed cheese powder curling in her nostrils. Stepping back in disgust, mind grasping at tactics, she did what came naturally to shinigami and drew her zanpakuto, Kusanagi, from her sleeve, grasping the crimson hilt with two hands and pointing the folded-steel tip at his throat. He didn't seem to be much of a threat, caught in a moment of confusion, fingers stained orange from the infantile snack-food, yet his repuation preceeded him even more than the good doctors and to hesitate might be fatal. Still, she was confident that if Ryuken felt like lending a hand they would be able to manage to apprehend him for detainment with his former boss. Tossing her head slightly to move dark strands from her line of vision, she moved her foot to block the door to the elevator.

"Going down?"

[Deleted]

"Going down?"

Caught? That sure was quick. Quicker than he would have liked, and he was wondering how exactly it happened. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and having pressed the wrong button made it trifecta for trouble. The idea now was to get out of trouble, preferably unscathed. The blade in his face was making it tougher to concentrate on his next move, so the best thing, he realized, would be to gain some ground. For this kind of maneuver, confidence was key. He figured that he could do confidence.

Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow at the shinigami's blade, taking a non-too subtle step backwards. He was in no position to pick fights and he knew it, so he tried to ignore the infuriating stink of her kind and leaned nonchalantly against the moving room's back wall. He watched her eyes glint with a stern note of recognition. The fact that she had recognized him actually made him feel good, in a way. He examined her, taking in her stern pale purple eyes, severe raven black hairdo, and bookish glasses; she wasn’t bad looking for a shinigami. The man standing behind her was the same old guy from the lobby—he didn’t look as old if you looked him in the face, just a touch too young for that silver hair. The two looked as if they should be related, really. Both of them had that librarian-esque look to them. He grinned and shrugged, licking some of the powder off his fingers and trying almost successfully to look like the two hadn’t just about scared the daylights clean out of him.

Rubbing a hand over his jaw where his mask usually was (he’d never get used to not having it in gigai, ever,) he gave the pair a crooked smile.

“Shinigami, huh? Guess my reputation precedes me. Still, I like givin’ names before weapons get pointed—guess it’s no use lyin’ to ya, so, the name’s Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. You next, Quincy guy.” He nodded his head slightly, looking the male Quincy (had to be a Quincy, he had a weird presence that Grimmjow could only recall feeling once before) square in the eye. He only hoped that he could seem like a benign enough force that they would let him off on his way without much trouble.

…Who was he kidding? They already recognized him, and they were armed. Unless they had a moment of A) unconditional mercy or B) unbridled stupidity, he was screwed. He kept to leaning against the wall, half-cocked smile giving way to a slight frown of frustration.

Ach, this isn’t good. Not good in the single slightest. I can’t attack, defense’s down, and this chick’s got a blade that is about four feet from entering my face. Addin’ onto it, Quincy’s probably got something up his sleeve too. I reckon things’ll go alright if I keep my distance and don’t go do somethin’ stupid…yep, if I haven’t grossly underestimated my self-control, I’m screwed.

If only hitting on them would work. He gave himself a mental slap in the face for even considering that one. It was both gross and a horrible idea. Still, to keep his freedom, he felt like he’d do just about anything.

My life. Just…my life. These are my life chioces. I don't even believe this.