Renji wanted to reach out to Valyn, catch him before he got too far, but it wasn't an option. He resolved to find the kid during the day tomorrow. They hadn't talked in a while. And since Valyn hadn't been going with the Shinigami at night, he wasn't certain what he'd been up to, so he could find that out at the same time.
"It's okay, Ran," he repeated. "Rukia brought my sword. That's enough." He completely ignored the implication that he needed the same sort of help. Really, he was more worried about being trapped between two women who liked asking him questions he didn't want to answer. "You got something to do tonight--" unlike me... "--so head for that."
He answered Tatsumi; he hadn't been all that clear about what had happened yet, he supposed. "There's a Shinigami under special counseling in the sun room. I went in to get River out. He got us both." He shrugged. "Would've been okay but I had to use shunpou to escape."
He'd kind of figured that Rukia had to go back to the Colonel's room. She needed her own sword. But... he was supposed to meet the person from the bulletin board, he reminded himself. And for what reason... it came down to why he was still, if he allowed himself to think about it, utterly terrified of being alone with Rukia. Because she might ask him again, and he didn't know if he could hold up, especially not now.
He couldn't help but feel it was a hopeless argument; almost every argument with Rukia was, because there was almost nothing he could keep from her if she really asked. But he had to try. "I... gotta meet someone,remember," he said, quietly. "I'll take care of it while you're getting your sword."
The reality of it was that he didn't want to move from this place, where he had her and was holding her and had been through a moment - painful as it was, but still - where he hadn't felt sick and angry at himself, hadn't wanted to push her away and be left alone because... He wanted to go with her, hell, even hold her hand as they went, and at the same time he wanted to escape. He couldn't reconcile it.
Without really thinking about it, he propped an elbow on his knee, rested his forehead on his hand so he didn't have to look at anyone. It was a natural enough move for someone with a bastard of a headache like he had. And it hurt, even if not for the reason they thought.
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"It's okay, Ran," he repeated. "Rukia brought my sword. That's enough." He completely ignored the implication that he needed the same sort of help. Really, he was more worried about being trapped between two women who liked asking him questions he didn't want to answer. "You got something to do tonight--" unlike me... "--so head for that."
He answered Tatsumi; he hadn't been all that clear about what had happened yet, he supposed. "There's a Shinigami under special counseling in the sun room. I went in to get River out. He got us both." He shrugged. "Would've been okay but I had to use shunpou to escape."
He'd kind of figured that Rukia had to go back to the Colonel's room. She needed her own sword. But... he was supposed to meet the person from the bulletin board, he reminded himself. And for what reason... it came down to why he was still, if he allowed himself to think about it, utterly terrified of being alone with Rukia. Because she might ask him again, and he didn't know if he could hold up, especially not now.
He couldn't help but feel it was a hopeless argument; almost every argument with Rukia was, because there was almost nothing he could keep from her if she really asked. But he had to try. "I... gotta meet someone,remember," he said, quietly. "I'll take care of it while you're getting your sword."
The reality of it was that he didn't want to move from this place, where he had her and was holding her and had been through a moment - painful as it was, but still - where he hadn't felt sick and angry at himself, hadn't wanted to push her away and be left alone because... He wanted to go with her, hell, even hold her hand as they went, and at the same time he wanted to escape. He couldn't reconcile it.
Without really thinking about it, he propped an elbow on his knee, rested his forehead on his hand so he didn't have to look at anyone. It was a natural enough move for someone with a bastard of a headache like he had. And it hurt, even if not for the reason they thought.