Intermission - Gentleman Caller
- Location
- Brittany, France
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Intermission - Gentleman Caller
This intermission comes before Sweet Indifference.
The Sexta's Fraccions dragged their tired, wounded bodies into their tower, and promptly all collapsed on couches and in seats, breathing sighs of relief, even ever-composed Shawlong.
The Sexta himself was still cursing. He fished a little bit of bone plate out of his hair, growled at it and flicked it across the room. He always got some of those stranded in his clothing or hair when he ended his release.
"You okay, boss?" Nakeem said, oblivious to the mood of the room and earning himself deadly glares from Shawlong and Ilforte.
"Okay?" Grimmjow hissed, looking at his chest and arms. "Am I okay? I am fucking peachy, Nakeem. I've only just stopped bleeding! Who the fuck was that guy? We're supposed to be on the level of their Captains - I could have taken out that ice kid on my own, I can tell - but this guy? We had him surrounded and he was acting like he was just about to turn this around! This shit ain't natural!"
"We were warned that the power of Captains vary," Shawlong attempted in a conciliatory tone. "Urahara Kisuke is one of the few people Lord Aizen speaks of in a tone of warning. He is no ordinary Captain."
"Even so," Ilforte said dejectedly, "this seems like something we should have been warned about. The renegade Captains were mentioned in our briefings, but nothing that could have let us anticipate how…"
"Hell are you chiming in for?" Grimmjow said with some outrage. "You weren't even here!"
"I apologize, boss," Ilforte says, his face growing somber. "It won't happen again. I…"
"He's a Vasto Lorde," Nakeem said shrugging his heavy shoulders.
Everyone turned to stare at him.
"What." Grimmjow's eye twitched. Nakeem shrugged again.
"Every Espada's as strong as an Espada 'cause an Espada's an Espada. So every Captain is as strong as a Captain 'cause a Captain's a Captain. But the Vasto Lorde are more Espada than the other Espada. And that Captain guy is more Captain than Captains. So he's a Vasto Lorde Captain."
There was a moment of silence.
"If I try to think the way Nakeem does," Ilforte murmured, "that actually makes sense."
"If I try to think the way Nakeem does, my head starts hurting," Shawlong said.
Grimmjow rolled his eyes.
"I'm gonna patch my wounds. And take a nap. None of you bother me for a couple hours."
"Sure thing, boss," Ilforte said with a nod. Grimmjow disappeared upstairs as Nakeem started explaining how a Lieutenant was like a Gillian.
Grimmjow's room was small and cluttered, which was the way he like it - there were other rooms in the tower he could have picked otherwise. He had never asked for any of the things inside his personal space; he had found them, scavenged them, extorted them with force from someone else. Bulky furniture lined up against the walls, bare grey stone, remains of two meals sitting on separate chests. It always felt welcoming, personal, owned - but today as he walked in that feeling had shifted. The room felt busy, oppressive, like a foreign section of jungle where the trees and rocks and streams were obstacles rather than landmark. Though sunlight streamed in from the one window, bright and clear, it seemed only to make the shadows in every corner more stark.
Usually, he welcomed the quiet of his own room, giving him time to relax and think for himself away from his Fraccions' clashing personalities. Today, that quiet felt as thick and damp as the air before a storm. With a sigh he promptly doffed his torn-up jacket and rolled his shoulders and elbows, the cramps and tiny points of pain flaring up - but in a good way, a way that let him be aware of what was wrong with his body. The smothering air could not be borne with clothes, perspiration already dotted his limbs. The large burn mark covering his left forearm and hand was one of his more obvious injuries, but it was easy to let surface wounds make you forget about internal injuries, and he had too much experience to fall into that trap.
He moved over to a chest of drawers in one corner of the room, a bizarre thing constructed out of granite with quartz handles that probably would have been impossible for a human to open or close. The bottom drawer creaked as it opened, something it did not normally do, almost a weeping sound. Grimmjow ignored it and started rummaging for supplies.
"So how does it feel-" started the voice at his back.
"You're not as clever as you think you are," Grimmjow spoke at exactly the same time.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence in the shadowy corner while Grimmjow, not looking back, arranged gauze and small glass bottle on top of the shelf, then finally turned back.
Luppi Antenor plopped down from the ceiling, looking very sour.
"What."
Grimmjow raised an eyebrow.
"Seems like it speaks for itself."
Luppi's glare intensified a few notches.
"I was suppressing my reiatsu and you do not have perception this good," he spoke like an accusation.
"Didn't need to. Back of your neck," Grimmjow said, pouring some viscous fluid into his palm and rubbing it on his burn.
Luppi craned his head, looking doubtful, then raised a finger to his neck. It came away with a spot of blood.
"Could smell you before I'd entered the room," Grimmjow said simply.
"A drop of Shinigami blood, over your own injuries? Bullshit."
Grimmjow gave him a level look.
"I fought them up close and personal not an hour ago. It's easy."
Luppi grunted, displeased.
"Anyway," Grimmjow said, closing the bottle and wiping his hands on a towel, "I was waiting to see if this was some kind of ambush but I wasn't too worried. You're exhausted too, and you work for Cirucci, who's Quinta now so she has no reason to go after me."
"I have my own ambitions," Luppi said in a low voice.
"Sure you do. But you can't be Espada anyway 'cause our dear leader's a dick. So, not worried."
Luppi's eyes narrowed, and his lips half-opened to say something - then instead he sighed and moved over to Grimmjow's bed, sitting down at the edge and grabbing a pillow to fidget with.
"You're still in my house though," Grimmjow said, eyeing him as he wrapped gauze over his oiled-up burns. "Don't get too comfortable or I might punch you out the window."
"Me?" Luppi said with mock surprise and sadness, pulling the pillow against his chest. "But I'm adorable!"
"You're a smug prick," Grimmjow said evenly.
"Yeah, okay, but so's half of everyone in Las Noches," the other said rolling his eyes. "Comparatively I'm adorable."
"Comparatively you're still in the top five smug pricks in this goddamned place."
"I take offense to-" Luppi started, then furrowed his brow. "Wait, where are we ranking Aaroniero? You can't see his expression most of the time but you wouldn't believe the smugness he hides behind that mask."
"Top six."
"Oh fuck you," Luppi half-shouted with seemingly genuine outrage.
"Just my honest opinion," Grimmjow said with a shrug.
There was a moment of pause as Grimmjow started checking the sealed wounds on his chest, the sunlight from his window framing his body, the heat and the recent exertion dotting him with sweat. He proceeded to grab another bottle, a flower smell wafting off across the room as he uncorked it and proceeded to rub his cramped chest and arms, soothing the injuries. Even the great scars crossing his torso from left shoulder to right hip - the one left by the Kurosaki boy - didn't ache at this moment.
Heh. He did have a lot of scars, didn't he? Smiling to himself, he massaged the claw marks left by Shawlong on his arm, four clean parallel lines that wouldn't go away. He sighed as old and new pains alike started to abate.
Luppi stared. Grimmjow's smile turned to a smirk.
"You know, this isn't how I pictured our conversation," he said. "I was envisioning my clever jabs forcing you to confront the unwholesome consequences of what just unfolded and all."
"I'd say I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't actually care what you think."
"Also I would be loathed and despised," Luppi said with a deep, mournful sigh, "as I always am, no one in Las Noches understanding me, not even my mistress and fellow Fraccion."
Grimmjow paused in his work, cocking an eyebrow and looking to the streaming sunlight.
"What is this, backpatting time? I got hurt more than you did, so did my Fraccions, and this is my house. You want pity, get in line."
"You're no fun," Luppi said, pouting.
"And you're a prick, as we've established," Grimmjow said, "but all you did so far was help me in a life-or-death battle, then break into my house. So you're not getting pity, and I'm not exactly impressed by your evil untrustworthy bastard vibes either."
"Your window's just a hole in the wall," Luppi scoffed, "I didn't break anything. Technically all I did was illegally enter."
"Technically I could still punch you through the wall and then you'd have broken something," Grimmjow said evenly.
Luppi froze a little, and gave him a suspicious glance as if to assess how serious he was. Then he waved his sleeve.
"Nah, you've put too much work into that room's arrangement. You wouldn't throw it away for the satisfaction of one punch."
"Heh. Guess you can read people a bit. Want a drink?" Grimmjow asked with a smirk, and the Fraccion started slightly.
"What?"
"You look thirsty."
Luppi stared at him for a full two seconds.
"You're damn right I am," he whispered.
Grimmjow cracked his back and neck, putting the half-empty oil bottle back into its drawer, then opened another one to fetch two glasses, then filled them from a pitcher sitting on a nearby cupboard, and handed Luppi a glass of plain water. The Fraccion had another odd moment of silence staring at it.
"I'm surprised it's not milk," he said with a smirk.
"I'm an adult," Grimmjow said sourly. "Can't digest the stuff."
Luppi blinked.
"I can't tell if all of this is an elaborate prank at my expense and it's highly confusing because this is what I usually do to other people."
"You're not great at switching roles, uh?" Grimmjow said taking a sip.
"You stop that!"
"You've made yourself an easy target," Grimmjow said, narrowing his eyes.
"How?" Luppi asked dubiously.
Grimmjow clicked his tongue, scanning the lithe Arrancar sitting in front of him.
"Your suppression is really good. Like, I'm a predator, my senses are the shit, and I still wouldn't have spotted you without the bloodstain. You also look like the kinda guy who spends an hour in front of the mirror every day before going out. Yet you show up with that stain, which means you beelined for my tower right after Aizen's debrief. Which means that whatever brought you here, it's really important to you, and probably not to the Thunder-Witch 'cause we just saw each other and she'd have told me herself. So you've put yourself in a position of weakness."
Silence followed as Grimmjow finished his glass of water and went to his wardrobe to pick up a new jacket.
"I was hoping you'd enjoy the rugged, battle-worn look more," Luppi said, idly looking at a pinkish scar on the back of his hand.
"You're too cute," Grimmjow said with a shrug, before cursing under his breath as he realized the body oil he'd absently applied would mess up anything he wore. He threw the jacket back onto its hanger and went to the window, stretching with a yawn in the sun, back muscles shifting, cramps easing, his body feeling smoother, stronger. Then he sat on the ledge with the lazy grace of a cat, drying himself in the sun.
Luppi was staring again, having not said a word throughout this. He blinked despite himself.
"Too cute?" he finally blurted out.
Grimmjow turned around, giving him a playful look, and the Fraccion tried his best to stare back without getting flustered.
"Yeah," he said easily. "You're short and girly and like I said, got that hour-in-front-of-a-mirror look. Blood and grime make you look creepy, not 'rugged.' Like the maid showed up covered in blood and is telling you the family dog has gone to a big beautiful farm in the countryside."
"Where did you even learn that metaphor?" Luppi asked bewildered. Grimmjow shrugged, giving no explanation.
"So what was it," he asked, giving Luppi a wry look, "that was supposed to rile me up or something?"
Again, Luppi opened his mouth and closed it. Annoyance flashed on his face. He put the glass down a nightstand, half empty, and tossed the pillow behind his back.
"Why?" he asked, eyes shining with frustration. "Why are you so calm? You're a boiling cauldron of anger and status-seeking, always lashing out at any threat, and I'm just… Here. Sitting around and chatting in your room that I snuck up in behind your back. And you're okay with it. Yeah sure, I'm not threatening or whatever, doesn't explain why you didn't shouted that in a spiteful tone while hurling me right back out that window."
Grimmjow mulled this over for a few moments, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. He scratched his ear, thoughtful.
"I guess it's the come-down," he said.
"The what?"
A thin, predatory smile cut across the blue-haired man's face.
"I had fun, okay? I had fun. After months of sitting around training with my people, after getting smacked down for one half-hearted fight where I never had to give it my all and two of my pack died and I couldn't avenge them-" a brief flash of anger, pure, raw, animal, soon gone and the smile widening "-I got to have an actual, proper fucking fight. I led my Fraccions and we cut through an entire Shinigami team like it was wheat, and then I had a personal duel against the guy who killed Eduardo, and he gave it everything and I took that everything. And won. It was a perfect day. Then, yeah, that asshole in the hat showed up, I lost time chasing down that cat-chick, I released yet didn't even used half of what I had in the fight… Fuck, yeah, that was frustrating as hell. But end of the day, I'm looking back, and feeling good. Satisfied. Drained. I don't have all that anger in me right now. I feel… relaxed."
"Even though your own ally betrayed you," Luppi said in a low tone, gauging him. "That was going to be my opening question, by the way. I'm always the betrayer or the betrayed. I never get to know how it feels for other people, let down by someone who isn't me."
"What?" Grimmjow frowned. "That makes no sense. Who betrayed us?"
Luppi tilted his head, staring at him in mild confusion. Then the sunlight shifted just a little, sending bronze reflections over Grimmjow's light-framed shoulders, oil shining off his many scars, accentuating the steel coils of his body, and the Fraccion shook his head rapidly, looking away.
"Ulquiorra?" he said as if it should have been obvious. "He didn't take part in the fight, didn't extract us after the goal was achieved and Hats & Clogs had shown up, let us take the brunt of the fight while he prepared a surprise Cero that almost caught us in not-so-friendly-fire… I mean, you got the burn on your arm to show it."
"That was the hat guy's spells," Grimmjow said looking at his bandaged arm. "The Cero bruised more than it burned."
"Point is, he used us all."
"Yeah, so?" Grimmjow eyed him evenly. "That's not a betrayal, that's just Ulquiorra being Ulquiorra."
"But he was supposed to be our ally," Luppi said, frustration again edging in his voice. He hopped off the bed and started pacing the room, moving his arms to punctuate his speech. "The man in charge of this mission. Our leader! Would you use your own Fraccions as bait, as decoys in a fight?"
Grimmjow frowned, rubbing his chin, then shook his head.
"Sure, but not like that. If for some reason - I can't really imagine one - someone was coming for us and we had to run instead of fight as a team, I would grab Shawlong or Ilforte by the shoulder, I'd look him in the eye and I'd tell him, 'we need you to hold the line while I open a Garganta and get us out of here.' And they'd understand that I'm probably asking them to die, and they'd do it. But I wouldn't spring that behind their back while letting them think I have… that back." He paused, then mumbled. "Should work on my speech figures."
"So why aren't you more upset?" Luppi asked, sounding oddly offended.
"Because I'm me and Ulquiorra's Ulquiorra." Grimmjow shrugged. "He was still going to act like himself, 'cause that's who he is. I don't trust him, I don't rely on him, so I don't expect anything from him."
"You were yelling at him!" Luppi said, yelling himself, waving his hands.
"Yeah, in the moment," Grimmjow said seriously. "Would have probably punched him in his smug face if he hadn't spotted the enemy was still alive. But now it's past, and what's the point? He does what he does, and you should do like me. Don't trust him. Don't rely on him. Don't expect anything from him. Those were good ideas then, and they're still good ideas now. Nothing's changed.
Luppi stopped gesticulating. He cocked a hand on his hips, eyeing Grimmjow with a calculating gaze.
"Fair enough," he said. "So what do you think of me?"
Grimmjow gave him a dubious look.
"We've gone over this, haven't we?"
"Yes, yes," Luppi said rolling his eyes, "smug prick, too cute for my own good, not as clever as I think I am. Anything else?"
Grimmjow took a moment to answer.
"Up 'til today I thought you were a slimy shit who was deliberately trying to get a rise out of everyone he interacted with. Which, I mean, you are. But when the chips are down you're fighting at our side, right up there in the enemy's face, taking hits and dealing them, as much of a laughing, bloodthirsty maniac as Nnoitra used to be but way smarter about it. Not hiding behind your allies for your own sake. Not a coward. I guess I could put up with some of your asshattery for that."
Luppi muttered under his breath something that seemed to contrast 'putting up' and another preposition to the same verb.
"Now, I'm tired as shit," Grimmjow said, "so if you don't mind I'd like you to get out of here so I can have a nap."
Luppi sighed, turned on his heels - then paused and turned back, looking oddly at him.
"You mean it. You're not using an excuse to kick me out because you're tired of talking to me. You just want a nap."
"Yeah?" Grimmjow said blandly. "Sure."
"It's just… Your heartsong," Luppi said, waving his long sleeve evasively at Grimmjow. "It's so bafflingly sincere."
"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."
"Yeah, you don't." Luppi smirked. "Last two questions before I go, if I may."
"Shoot," Grimmjow said, already kicking off his sandals.
"When you say I'm cute, do you mean that in a positive way, or like you'd say 'aw, what a cute kitten' at someone's pet before forgetting that pet even exists?"
Grimmjow scratched his cheek - then chuckled, to his own surprise.
"The last person I compared to a kitten was that girl Nemo. Not long after, I was offering Cirucci to trade two of my own Fraccions in exchange for her. Yeah, that happened."
"That's not really an answer," Luppi said with a look of frustration, and Grimmjow shrugged.
"It's what you get. Second question?"
Luppi hesitated for a second, then resigned himself.
"I actually did come here straight after the debriefing and an all-out, released battle with two Captains. With Sonido to boot. I am tired as hell. Can I rest here a little?"
Grimmjow burst out laughing, and Luppi blushed furiously, clenching his fists.
"I bet in your head you pictured yourself dropping on me by surprise and getting to look all sinister and threatening today, uh?"
"Don't rub it in."
Grimmjow wiped the corner of his eye as his laughter subsided.
"Sure. This was a fun chat. Go to Shawlong and tell him I said you could have one of the rooms."
"Thank you," Luppi mumbled, turning to leave. Then on the threshold, Grimmjow, lying on his bed with his hands on his chest, called out to him. "What?" he asked, suspicious, and the panther smirked.
"If you can manage to keep this down to this level of smug prick, feel free to drop by again. This was fun. Makes you top ten, max."
Luppi chuckled, eyes shining.
"I'll try to control myself. Seeya."
The door closed, and Grimmjow, his mind blessedly free of afterthought, was asleep a second later.
This intermission comes before Sweet Indifference.
The Sexta's Fraccions dragged their tired, wounded bodies into their tower, and promptly all collapsed on couches and in seats, breathing sighs of relief, even ever-composed Shawlong.
The Sexta himself was still cursing. He fished a little bit of bone plate out of his hair, growled at it and flicked it across the room. He always got some of those stranded in his clothing or hair when he ended his release.
"You okay, boss?" Nakeem said, oblivious to the mood of the room and earning himself deadly glares from Shawlong and Ilforte.
"Okay?" Grimmjow hissed, looking at his chest and arms. "Am I okay? I am fucking peachy, Nakeem. I've only just stopped bleeding! Who the fuck was that guy? We're supposed to be on the level of their Captains - I could have taken out that ice kid on my own, I can tell - but this guy? We had him surrounded and he was acting like he was just about to turn this around! This shit ain't natural!"
"We were warned that the power of Captains vary," Shawlong attempted in a conciliatory tone. "Urahara Kisuke is one of the few people Lord Aizen speaks of in a tone of warning. He is no ordinary Captain."
"Even so," Ilforte said dejectedly, "this seems like something we should have been warned about. The renegade Captains were mentioned in our briefings, but nothing that could have let us anticipate how…"
"Hell are you chiming in for?" Grimmjow said with some outrage. "You weren't even here!"
"I apologize, boss," Ilforte says, his face growing somber. "It won't happen again. I…"
"He's a Vasto Lorde," Nakeem said shrugging his heavy shoulders.
Everyone turned to stare at him.
"What." Grimmjow's eye twitched. Nakeem shrugged again.
"Every Espada's as strong as an Espada 'cause an Espada's an Espada. So every Captain is as strong as a Captain 'cause a Captain's a Captain. But the Vasto Lorde are more Espada than the other Espada. And that Captain guy is more Captain than Captains. So he's a Vasto Lorde Captain."
There was a moment of silence.
"If I try to think the way Nakeem does," Ilforte murmured, "that actually makes sense."
"If I try to think the way Nakeem does, my head starts hurting," Shawlong said.
Grimmjow rolled his eyes.
"I'm gonna patch my wounds. And take a nap. None of you bother me for a couple hours."
"Sure thing, boss," Ilforte said with a nod. Grimmjow disappeared upstairs as Nakeem started explaining how a Lieutenant was like a Gillian.
Grimmjow's room was small and cluttered, which was the way he like it - there were other rooms in the tower he could have picked otherwise. He had never asked for any of the things inside his personal space; he had found them, scavenged them, extorted them with force from someone else. Bulky furniture lined up against the walls, bare grey stone, remains of two meals sitting on separate chests. It always felt welcoming, personal, owned - but today as he walked in that feeling had shifted. The room felt busy, oppressive, like a foreign section of jungle where the trees and rocks and streams were obstacles rather than landmark. Though sunlight streamed in from the one window, bright and clear, it seemed only to make the shadows in every corner more stark.
Usually, he welcomed the quiet of his own room, giving him time to relax and think for himself away from his Fraccions' clashing personalities. Today, that quiet felt as thick and damp as the air before a storm. With a sigh he promptly doffed his torn-up jacket and rolled his shoulders and elbows, the cramps and tiny points of pain flaring up - but in a good way, a way that let him be aware of what was wrong with his body. The smothering air could not be borne with clothes, perspiration already dotted his limbs. The large burn mark covering his left forearm and hand was one of his more obvious injuries, but it was easy to let surface wounds make you forget about internal injuries, and he had too much experience to fall into that trap.
He moved over to a chest of drawers in one corner of the room, a bizarre thing constructed out of granite with quartz handles that probably would have been impossible for a human to open or close. The bottom drawer creaked as it opened, something it did not normally do, almost a weeping sound. Grimmjow ignored it and started rummaging for supplies.
"So how does it feel-" started the voice at his back.
"You're not as clever as you think you are," Grimmjow spoke at exactly the same time.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence in the shadowy corner while Grimmjow, not looking back, arranged gauze and small glass bottle on top of the shelf, then finally turned back.
Luppi Antenor plopped down from the ceiling, looking very sour.
"What."
Grimmjow raised an eyebrow.
"Seems like it speaks for itself."
Luppi's glare intensified a few notches.
"I was suppressing my reiatsu and you do not have perception this good," he spoke like an accusation.
"Didn't need to. Back of your neck," Grimmjow said, pouring some viscous fluid into his palm and rubbing it on his burn.
Luppi craned his head, looking doubtful, then raised a finger to his neck. It came away with a spot of blood.
"Could smell you before I'd entered the room," Grimmjow said simply.
"A drop of Shinigami blood, over your own injuries? Bullshit."
Grimmjow gave him a level look.
"I fought them up close and personal not an hour ago. It's easy."
Luppi grunted, displeased.
"Anyway," Grimmjow said, closing the bottle and wiping his hands on a towel, "I was waiting to see if this was some kind of ambush but I wasn't too worried. You're exhausted too, and you work for Cirucci, who's Quinta now so she has no reason to go after me."
"I have my own ambitions," Luppi said in a low voice.
"Sure you do. But you can't be Espada anyway 'cause our dear leader's a dick. So, not worried."
Luppi's eyes narrowed, and his lips half-opened to say something - then instead he sighed and moved over to Grimmjow's bed, sitting down at the edge and grabbing a pillow to fidget with.
"You're still in my house though," Grimmjow said, eyeing him as he wrapped gauze over his oiled-up burns. "Don't get too comfortable or I might punch you out the window."
"Me?" Luppi said with mock surprise and sadness, pulling the pillow against his chest. "But I'm adorable!"
"You're a smug prick," Grimmjow said evenly.
"Yeah, okay, but so's half of everyone in Las Noches," the other said rolling his eyes. "Comparatively I'm adorable."
"Comparatively you're still in the top five smug pricks in this goddamned place."
"I take offense to-" Luppi started, then furrowed his brow. "Wait, where are we ranking Aaroniero? You can't see his expression most of the time but you wouldn't believe the smugness he hides behind that mask."
"Top six."
"Oh fuck you," Luppi half-shouted with seemingly genuine outrage.
"Just my honest opinion," Grimmjow said with a shrug.
There was a moment of pause as Grimmjow started checking the sealed wounds on his chest, the sunlight from his window framing his body, the heat and the recent exertion dotting him with sweat. He proceeded to grab another bottle, a flower smell wafting off across the room as he uncorked it and proceeded to rub his cramped chest and arms, soothing the injuries. Even the great scars crossing his torso from left shoulder to right hip - the one left by the Kurosaki boy - didn't ache at this moment.
Heh. He did have a lot of scars, didn't he? Smiling to himself, he massaged the claw marks left by Shawlong on his arm, four clean parallel lines that wouldn't go away. He sighed as old and new pains alike started to abate.
Luppi stared. Grimmjow's smile turned to a smirk.
"You know, this isn't how I pictured our conversation," he said. "I was envisioning my clever jabs forcing you to confront the unwholesome consequences of what just unfolded and all."
"I'd say I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't actually care what you think."
"Also I would be loathed and despised," Luppi said with a deep, mournful sigh, "as I always am, no one in Las Noches understanding me, not even my mistress and fellow Fraccion."
Grimmjow paused in his work, cocking an eyebrow and looking to the streaming sunlight.
"What is this, backpatting time? I got hurt more than you did, so did my Fraccions, and this is my house. You want pity, get in line."
"You're no fun," Luppi said, pouting.
"And you're a prick, as we've established," Grimmjow said, "but all you did so far was help me in a life-or-death battle, then break into my house. So you're not getting pity, and I'm not exactly impressed by your evil untrustworthy bastard vibes either."
"Your window's just a hole in the wall," Luppi scoffed, "I didn't break anything. Technically all I did was illegally enter."
"Technically I could still punch you through the wall and then you'd have broken something," Grimmjow said evenly.
Luppi froze a little, and gave him a suspicious glance as if to assess how serious he was. Then he waved his sleeve.
"Nah, you've put too much work into that room's arrangement. You wouldn't throw it away for the satisfaction of one punch."
"Heh. Guess you can read people a bit. Want a drink?" Grimmjow asked with a smirk, and the Fraccion started slightly.
"What?"
"You look thirsty."
Luppi stared at him for a full two seconds.
"You're damn right I am," he whispered.
Grimmjow cracked his back and neck, putting the half-empty oil bottle back into its drawer, then opened another one to fetch two glasses, then filled them from a pitcher sitting on a nearby cupboard, and handed Luppi a glass of plain water. The Fraccion had another odd moment of silence staring at it.
"I'm surprised it's not milk," he said with a smirk.
"I'm an adult," Grimmjow said sourly. "Can't digest the stuff."
Luppi blinked.
"I can't tell if all of this is an elaborate prank at my expense and it's highly confusing because this is what I usually do to other people."
"You're not great at switching roles, uh?" Grimmjow said taking a sip.
"You stop that!"
"You've made yourself an easy target," Grimmjow said, narrowing his eyes.
"How?" Luppi asked dubiously.
Grimmjow clicked his tongue, scanning the lithe Arrancar sitting in front of him.
"Your suppression is really good. Like, I'm a predator, my senses are the shit, and I still wouldn't have spotted you without the bloodstain. You also look like the kinda guy who spends an hour in front of the mirror every day before going out. Yet you show up with that stain, which means you beelined for my tower right after Aizen's debrief. Which means that whatever brought you here, it's really important to you, and probably not to the Thunder-Witch 'cause we just saw each other and she'd have told me herself. So you've put yourself in a position of weakness."
Silence followed as Grimmjow finished his glass of water and went to his wardrobe to pick up a new jacket.
"I was hoping you'd enjoy the rugged, battle-worn look more," Luppi said, idly looking at a pinkish scar on the back of his hand.
"You're too cute," Grimmjow said with a shrug, before cursing under his breath as he realized the body oil he'd absently applied would mess up anything he wore. He threw the jacket back onto its hanger and went to the window, stretching with a yawn in the sun, back muscles shifting, cramps easing, his body feeling smoother, stronger. Then he sat on the ledge with the lazy grace of a cat, drying himself in the sun.
Luppi was staring again, having not said a word throughout this. He blinked despite himself.
"Too cute?" he finally blurted out.
Grimmjow turned around, giving him a playful look, and the Fraccion tried his best to stare back without getting flustered.
"Yeah," he said easily. "You're short and girly and like I said, got that hour-in-front-of-a-mirror look. Blood and grime make you look creepy, not 'rugged.' Like the maid showed up covered in blood and is telling you the family dog has gone to a big beautiful farm in the countryside."
"Where did you even learn that metaphor?" Luppi asked bewildered. Grimmjow shrugged, giving no explanation.
"So what was it," he asked, giving Luppi a wry look, "that was supposed to rile me up or something?"
Again, Luppi opened his mouth and closed it. Annoyance flashed on his face. He put the glass down a nightstand, half empty, and tossed the pillow behind his back.
"Why?" he asked, eyes shining with frustration. "Why are you so calm? You're a boiling cauldron of anger and status-seeking, always lashing out at any threat, and I'm just… Here. Sitting around and chatting in your room that I snuck up in behind your back. And you're okay with it. Yeah sure, I'm not threatening or whatever, doesn't explain why you didn't shouted that in a spiteful tone while hurling me right back out that window."
Grimmjow mulled this over for a few moments, lifting his eyes to the ceiling. He scratched his ear, thoughtful.
"I guess it's the come-down," he said.
"The what?"
A thin, predatory smile cut across the blue-haired man's face.
"I had fun, okay? I had fun. After months of sitting around training with my people, after getting smacked down for one half-hearted fight where I never had to give it my all and two of my pack died and I couldn't avenge them-" a brief flash of anger, pure, raw, animal, soon gone and the smile widening "-I got to have an actual, proper fucking fight. I led my Fraccions and we cut through an entire Shinigami team like it was wheat, and then I had a personal duel against the guy who killed Eduardo, and he gave it everything and I took that everything. And won. It was a perfect day. Then, yeah, that asshole in the hat showed up, I lost time chasing down that cat-chick, I released yet didn't even used half of what I had in the fight… Fuck, yeah, that was frustrating as hell. But end of the day, I'm looking back, and feeling good. Satisfied. Drained. I don't have all that anger in me right now. I feel… relaxed."
"Even though your own ally betrayed you," Luppi said in a low tone, gauging him. "That was going to be my opening question, by the way. I'm always the betrayer or the betrayed. I never get to know how it feels for other people, let down by someone who isn't me."
"What?" Grimmjow frowned. "That makes no sense. Who betrayed us?"
Luppi tilted his head, staring at him in mild confusion. Then the sunlight shifted just a little, sending bronze reflections over Grimmjow's light-framed shoulders, oil shining off his many scars, accentuating the steel coils of his body, and the Fraccion shook his head rapidly, looking away.
"Ulquiorra?" he said as if it should have been obvious. "He didn't take part in the fight, didn't extract us after the goal was achieved and Hats & Clogs had shown up, let us take the brunt of the fight while he prepared a surprise Cero that almost caught us in not-so-friendly-fire… I mean, you got the burn on your arm to show it."
"That was the hat guy's spells," Grimmjow said looking at his bandaged arm. "The Cero bruised more than it burned."
"Point is, he used us all."
"Yeah, so?" Grimmjow eyed him evenly. "That's not a betrayal, that's just Ulquiorra being Ulquiorra."
"But he was supposed to be our ally," Luppi said, frustration again edging in his voice. He hopped off the bed and started pacing the room, moving his arms to punctuate his speech. "The man in charge of this mission. Our leader! Would you use your own Fraccions as bait, as decoys in a fight?"
Grimmjow frowned, rubbing his chin, then shook his head.
"Sure, but not like that. If for some reason - I can't really imagine one - someone was coming for us and we had to run instead of fight as a team, I would grab Shawlong or Ilforte by the shoulder, I'd look him in the eye and I'd tell him, 'we need you to hold the line while I open a Garganta and get us out of here.' And they'd understand that I'm probably asking them to die, and they'd do it. But I wouldn't spring that behind their back while letting them think I have… that back." He paused, then mumbled. "Should work on my speech figures."
"So why aren't you more upset?" Luppi asked, sounding oddly offended.
"Because I'm me and Ulquiorra's Ulquiorra." Grimmjow shrugged. "He was still going to act like himself, 'cause that's who he is. I don't trust him, I don't rely on him, so I don't expect anything from him."
"You were yelling at him!" Luppi said, yelling himself, waving his hands.
"Yeah, in the moment," Grimmjow said seriously. "Would have probably punched him in his smug face if he hadn't spotted the enemy was still alive. But now it's past, and what's the point? He does what he does, and you should do like me. Don't trust him. Don't rely on him. Don't expect anything from him. Those were good ideas then, and they're still good ideas now. Nothing's changed.
Luppi stopped gesticulating. He cocked a hand on his hips, eyeing Grimmjow with a calculating gaze.
"Fair enough," he said. "So what do you think of me?"
Grimmjow gave him a dubious look.
"We've gone over this, haven't we?"
"Yes, yes," Luppi said rolling his eyes, "smug prick, too cute for my own good, not as clever as I think I am. Anything else?"
Grimmjow took a moment to answer.
"Up 'til today I thought you were a slimy shit who was deliberately trying to get a rise out of everyone he interacted with. Which, I mean, you are. But when the chips are down you're fighting at our side, right up there in the enemy's face, taking hits and dealing them, as much of a laughing, bloodthirsty maniac as Nnoitra used to be but way smarter about it. Not hiding behind your allies for your own sake. Not a coward. I guess I could put up with some of your asshattery for that."
Luppi muttered under his breath something that seemed to contrast 'putting up' and another preposition to the same verb.
"Now, I'm tired as shit," Grimmjow said, "so if you don't mind I'd like you to get out of here so I can have a nap."
Luppi sighed, turned on his heels - then paused and turned back, looking oddly at him.
"You mean it. You're not using an excuse to kick me out because you're tired of talking to me. You just want a nap."
"Yeah?" Grimmjow said blandly. "Sure."
"It's just… Your heartsong," Luppi said, waving his long sleeve evasively at Grimmjow. "It's so bafflingly sincere."
"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."
"Yeah, you don't." Luppi smirked. "Last two questions before I go, if I may."
"Shoot," Grimmjow said, already kicking off his sandals.
"When you say I'm cute, do you mean that in a positive way, or like you'd say 'aw, what a cute kitten' at someone's pet before forgetting that pet even exists?"
Grimmjow scratched his cheek - then chuckled, to his own surprise.
"The last person I compared to a kitten was that girl Nemo. Not long after, I was offering Cirucci to trade two of my own Fraccions in exchange for her. Yeah, that happened."
"That's not really an answer," Luppi said with a look of frustration, and Grimmjow shrugged.
"It's what you get. Second question?"
Luppi hesitated for a second, then resigned himself.
"I actually did come here straight after the debriefing and an all-out, released battle with two Captains. With Sonido to boot. I am tired as hell. Can I rest here a little?"
Grimmjow burst out laughing, and Luppi blushed furiously, clenching his fists.
"I bet in your head you pictured yourself dropping on me by surprise and getting to look all sinister and threatening today, uh?"
"Don't rub it in."
Grimmjow wiped the corner of his eye as his laughter subsided.
"Sure. This was a fun chat. Go to Shawlong and tell him I said you could have one of the rooms."
"Thank you," Luppi mumbled, turning to leave. Then on the threshold, Grimmjow, lying on his bed with his hands on his chest, called out to him. "What?" he asked, suspicious, and the panther smirked.
"If you can manage to keep this down to this level of smug prick, feel free to drop by again. This was fun. Makes you top ten, max."
Luppi chuckled, eyes shining.
"I'll try to control myself. Seeya."
The door closed, and Grimmjow, his mind blessedly free of afterthought, was asleep a second later.
