Any retort as to how little thought he gave it ranked lower than listening to what Kratos-san could explain of the last thirteen days. Further, given the sigh -- not from, he thought, frustration at the memory so much as the effort to recall something insignificant -- it truly did not merit any extended focus.
Uryuu listened as Kratos-san began, and he jumped when the shouting of the man's name interrupted him. He turned irritably toward the disturbance, not that he much needed to, as the guy marched over, his fury arguably radioactive. Cruxis, Renegades; either he was insane or he knew Kratos-san, but Uryuu did not much care either way, unimpressed with the spectacle and annoyed at losing his explanation.
His explanation and his peace, as all that shouting wreaked a new hell on his head.
Opening his mouth to advise him to shut up for everyone's sake, as well as his, as much more commotion and he'd draw a nurse and her needle over, Uryuu looked first at Kratos-san. An arched look, meant to be shared, a really? at this moron. What he saw on his face stopped him cold. Emotion, complex, quick, subtle, and shaded. Of course-- if the guy knew Kratos-san, then Kratos-san knew him. The simplicity of the rage directed at the man ill fit with the fluctuations in him; something uneven and mismatched, here. It happened swiftly, and Uryuu glanced between them, words dried, as Kratos-san schooled himself.
Lloyd, he said, and more than good with names, it struck a chord of familiarity. That night-- but more importantly, much as Uryuu understood the impulse to react as Kratos-san had to such overdone anger, he suspected that might only set the guy further off (he had experience doing much the same to another loud, temperamental idiot, and the next step sometimes involved Uryuu getting manhandled), and there were nurses to consider. Feeling distinctly out of place now, he ducked around that hesitation to say as much (after all, he was sitting here, much as this Lloyd hadn't bothered to notice).
He never got his chance. Another commotion barreled toward them; out of his periphery he saw those miniature frankfurters tumbling from a tray, over a skipping step, and above that-
And she stopped right in front of him, all wide eyes and bright hair, streaming words, all Inoue-san.
Uryuu jumped again, now with such shock he fell half onto the empty chair on his other side, then scrambled to his feet. Just aware, dimly, that he'd dropped his fruit cup down his front. The plastic bounced sadly under the table.
"In-Inoue-san?!"
Though she questioned him with concern, he could not yet answer, reeling. It had always been a possibility; his few days here had not even settled him into a routine of expecting less. If he had gone and returned, then knowing that she too had been here made it all the more likely. Seeing her standing real, solid, and unmistakably her, was another thing entirely. Relief that he no longer needed to seek her out as well beyond the gates, and risk still that the girl he found might only have been a copy, fast fell beneath a surge of blinding fury at this place for taking her, for doing this to her as well, and dread at what might come later. Unforgivable. Beyond justification. His nails dug into his palm, and the pricks pulled him back.
Cycling through these, Uryuu stood gaping, and as the more intense of the emotions passed, details struck him: her longer hair, noted especially at her bangs and the layers below. Her height had not changed, but-
Understand, that as his eyes flitted down over her in that matching, ugly uniform (not quite as terrible on her, but for the meaning of it), it was only because of his instincts as a tailor. A fledgling one, who would not dare to even presume to call himself that, but he did have a knack for judging measurements at a glance, and had designed her a shirt before they left Soul Society.
Thus, only for that reason, really, did he realize that while Inoue-san had not gotten taller, she had grown... elsewhere.
Really.
Really!
...anyway, her face also looked a little older, so there. Not that he was an expert on her f- never mind. Was she...? His awareness of what could be done in tampering with timelines did not make this less jarring. It probably did not much matter. A curiosity if they had somehow come from diverged timelines, yet he wondered at the wisdom of inquiring. Likely he would not remember regardless, but to prioritize preventing misfortune and risking history, or preserving the sanctity of what was meant to pass? Meant to had such a disagreeable flavor it; he much preferred choice.
As he mused, he realized they still stood there, and he had said nothing else.
"Er-"
Right, her question.
"An idiot with a bat," he said, blinking rapidly, one eye more than the other. "More importantly-" no, she had glanced at the one called Lloyd, and Uryuu interrupted himself to look as well.
"If you don't calm down, you'll be in for a nasty surprise," with one hand gesturing at the nurses dispersed throughout the room. As the other wiped the mango off his shirt. Coolly. As if it was cool. Everyone spilled fruit on themselves.
Back to Inoue-san, his gesturing hand now grasping at and pushing his glasses. "...Inoue-san." Quiet, overcome in yet another long look, then: businesslike. "How long have you been here?"
He had not felt her reiatsu last night, but had only searched at the start. Stepping back from the table, he debated between motioning for her to sit there and finding a place less chaotic.
no subject
Uryuu listened as Kratos-san began, and he jumped when the shouting of the man's name interrupted him. He turned irritably toward the disturbance, not that he much needed to, as the guy marched over, his fury arguably radioactive. Cruxis, Renegades; either he was insane or he knew Kratos-san, but Uryuu did not much care either way, unimpressed with the spectacle and annoyed at losing his explanation.
His explanation and his peace, as all that shouting wreaked a new hell on his head.
Opening his mouth to advise him to shut up for everyone's sake, as well as his, as much more commotion and he'd draw a nurse and her needle over, Uryuu looked first at Kratos-san. An arched look, meant to be shared, a really? at this moron. What he saw on his face stopped him cold. Emotion, complex, quick, subtle, and shaded. Of course-- if the guy knew Kratos-san, then Kratos-san knew him. The simplicity of the rage directed at the man ill fit with the fluctuations in him; something uneven and mismatched, here. It happened swiftly, and Uryuu glanced between them, words dried, as Kratos-san schooled himself.
Lloyd, he said, and more than good with names, it struck a chord of familiarity. That night-- but more importantly, much as Uryuu understood the impulse to react as Kratos-san had to such overdone anger, he suspected that might only set the guy further off (he had experience doing much the same to another loud, temperamental idiot, and the next step sometimes involved Uryuu getting manhandled), and there were nurses to consider. Feeling distinctly out of place now, he ducked around that hesitation to say as much (after all, he was sitting here, much as this Lloyd hadn't bothered to notice).
He never got his chance. Another commotion barreled toward them; out of his periphery he saw those miniature frankfurters tumbling from a tray, over a skipping step, and above that-
And she stopped right in front of him, all wide eyes and bright hair, streaming words, all Inoue-san.
Uryuu jumped again, now with such shock he fell half onto the empty chair on his other side, then scrambled to his feet. Just aware, dimly, that he'd dropped his fruit cup down his front. The plastic bounced sadly under the table.
"In-Inoue-san?!"
Though she questioned him with concern, he could not yet answer, reeling. It had always been a possibility; his few days here had not even settled him into a routine of expecting less. If he had gone and returned, then knowing that she too had been here made it all the more likely. Seeing her standing real, solid, and unmistakably her, was another thing entirely. Relief that he no longer needed to seek her out as well beyond the gates, and risk still that the girl he found might only have been a copy, fast fell beneath a surge of blinding fury at this place for taking her, for doing this to her as well, and dread at what might come later. Unforgivable. Beyond justification. His nails dug into his palm, and the pricks pulled him back.
Cycling through these, Uryuu stood gaping, and as the more intense of the emotions passed, details struck him: her longer hair, noted especially at her bangs and the layers below. Her height had not changed, but-
Understand, that as his eyes flitted down over her in that matching, ugly uniform (not quite as terrible on her, but for the meaning of it), it was only because of his instincts as a tailor. A fledgling one, who would not dare to even presume to call himself that, but he did have a knack for judging measurements at a glance, and had designed her a shirt before they left Soul Society.
Thus, only for that reason, really, did he realize that while Inoue-san had not gotten taller, she had grown... elsewhere.
Really.
Really!
...anyway, her face also looked a little older, so there. Not that he was an expert on her f- never mind. Was she...? His awareness of what could be done in tampering with timelines did not make this less jarring. It probably did not much matter. A curiosity if they had somehow come from diverged timelines, yet he wondered at the wisdom of inquiring. Likely he would not remember regardless, but to prioritize preventing misfortune and risking history, or preserving the sanctity of what was meant to pass? Meant to had such a disagreeable flavor it; he much preferred choice.
As he mused, he realized they still stood there, and he had said nothing else.
"Er-"
Right, her question.
"An idiot with a bat," he said, blinking rapidly, one eye more than the other. "More importantly-" no, she had glanced at the one called Lloyd, and Uryuu interrupted himself to look as well.
"If you don't calm down, you'll be in for a nasty surprise," with one hand gesturing at the nurses dispersed throughout the room. As the other wiped the mango off his shirt. Coolly. As if it was cool. Everyone spilled fruit on themselves.
Back to Inoue-san, his gesturing hand now grasping at and pushing his glasses. "...Inoue-san." Quiet, overcome in yet another long look, then: businesslike. "How long have you been here?"
He had not felt her reiatsu last night, but had only searched at the start. Stepping back from the table, he debated between motioning for her to sit there and finding a place less chaotic.
[ ooc: wow such gross tl;dr SORRY ]