damned_institute | Day 22: Brunch

Cid usually liked sleeping in, especially in a place as messed up and uninviting as this, but this happened to be one situation where he really wished he hadn't.

Right there, on the bulletin board. The Head Doctor and he'd fucking missed it? Some part of him wished he'd been there to take his eye out and another part of him knew he wouldn't have been able to. No man that powerful who hid for so long went to dangerous places without some kind of entourage.

Brunch sounded like it'd be filling, at least, though he nearly stopped in his tracks when the bastard announced TEA. TEA. It'd been a damn long while since he'd had some fucking tea, though with all the stress this place had found fit to rain down on his fucking head, it hadn't really been the first priority on his mind. Kinda nice, even if Cid was sure this was just some game the mother fucker was playing to get them all stuck neck-deep in Stockholm Syndrome.

He scanned the mostly-empty room for any sign of a familiar face once he'd piled waffles and sausages and syrup on his plate, though the person he really wanted to talk to was that Reynolds guy. "Spaceship" was the last word he remembered clearly before waking up in his bed, and dammit if he wasn't going to keep it stuck like glue in his mind.

He found a table where he could watch people come into the cafeteria and grabbed for his mug. The steam rising from his drink and the bag of herbs in it was nearly enough to make him grin despite it all, and it was with marked leisure and a little relief that he drank his goddamn tea.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That same sensation. It wasn't difficult to remember the feel of her hand on his arm. He'd felt it not so very long ago along with the cold steel of Haineko at his throat. This was different. These fingers, hands, they begged for trust, for understanding.

He looked at her now, truly looked at her, "I did it f'something other than a power trip." He leaned in a little closer, his voice a whisper that only she could hear, "Y'know me better'n that Ran." He hadn't meant to make it personal, but her name slipped off his tongue so easily. "Though," he added, "maybe it wouldn't be so bad... to be caught by you."

He pulled away, trying to gauge her reaction as well as process her last statement. It didn't make sense. Nightfall? A look of confusion crossed his features. "Tell me," he watched her now, with a bit more intensity, "What happens at night?"

The way he said it, the way he looked at her; she had to believe him now if she wanted to believe anything he'd ever said to her. And She wanted to.

Rangiku's eyes widened slightly as he leaned in closer, breath brushing across her skin; more intimate than something so simple had any right to be. It sounded so simple, but half the time she wasn't sure if she knew him at all, really. Still, a small smile graced her lips for a second, remembering his words before he'd been taken by the Menos. "Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be the one to capture you," she replied softly before he could pull away. Seemed like on some things neither of them could talk straight.

She leaned back a little, pushing her hair back out of her face and guiltily enjoying his confusion. She could tease him, she supposed, and refuse to say. It would doubtless see the others happy, but if this place was as terrible as she'd been told, then he deserved a warning. "It's not what it seems, this place. From what I've heard, there are monsters at night. Things other than Hollows."

Part of him was relieved, part disappointed as the conversation took a turn. Was that it? Would she trust him now? Or had he only succeeded in pushing her further away? The way she'd returned his tease made his blood race a little faster. Ran had always been blessed when it came to sensuality and she was skilled at using it to her advantage. Any man would find it difficult to resist her.

He was inclined not to believe the other part, though he knew many things that weren't Hollows could be dangerous. And after all the other insanity of the morning, that seemed just another brick in the wall. Ran didn't have it in her to lie, not like he did. And not about something important. So the people here wanted them to fight monsters, yet refused to let them keep their Zanpakutou? Was it a test of Demon Arts? Reiatsu? Nothing seemed to make sense, and for one who relied heavily on logic, it was troubling indeed.

"So you're as new t'this place as I am? Don't s'pose they're nice 'nough t'give us our Zanpakutou back at night?"

Rangiku sighed and nodded at his question, glancing around the room at all the people. "This morning." She smiled wryly. "With a hangover." He knew her habits nearly as well as she herself did. It wasn't such an unusual thing to happen.

"If they were goin' to give us our Zanpakuto back, I don't think they'd've taken 'em in the first place." She sighed again, eyes narrowing as she leaned forwards. "My powers are blocked. Can hardly feel a thing." Even Gin's reiatsu was shrouded. It was there, very faintly at the back of her mind if she thought about it hard, but it was an effort.

And now that she'd given him fair warning, it was probably time to do what she'd come over to do. "Good job I don't need a Zanpakuto to do this then," she murmured before grabbing his hand and uncerimoniously shoving it under her shirt. At the same time, she raised her knee, aiming it straight for his crotch.

"This is for what you did," she said coolly, "no matter your reasons. I'm still pissed off with you."

He'd known the answer to his other question without even asking it, but it was good to know that he wasn't the only shinigami here who's power was blocked.

And then... it hit. For the second time that day, he'd been caught off his guard. It had to be some kind of record. Gin's earlier assessment of the day had been accurate. It was in fact, a very bad day and showed no signs of getting better. There was only one upside to the entire ordeal; his hand was up Ran's shirt.

It was of small comfort as he doubled over, crumpling in pain. Was it supposed to be some last meal before the execution? With his free hand, he gripped the table, head hanging down as he winced at the sudden, debilitating pain.

She should possibly have felt guilty for using such underhanded tactics, but really, they were both from Rukongai where underhanded tactics were practically a requirement for survival. Part of what she knew was due to him after all.

Rangiku held his hand against her breast for a moment, clasping his fingers in her own even if he was probably too preoccupied with excrutiating pain to notice. Then she stumbled back a few steps, as though unsure on her feet, her face changing into a mask of horror and a little fear as she turned to the rest of the room. A sharp sound, nearly a scream escaped her and she looked around wildly for a nurse, her whole demeanour one of someone who had been wronged. She was no stranger to using her looks to her advantage and could act with the best of them if she needed to.

"Nurse! Nurse!"

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what was going on. Even through the haze of pain, Gin could see exactly where this was going. There were already countless sets of eyes on them. Gin was a man condemned and for once it was for a crime he hadn't committed.

That just wouldn't do. If he was gonna be punished either way, he was gonna make sure he got at least a small bit of satisfaction out of it.

Through an effort of will alone, he forced himself to his feet, covering the distance between them as fast as his delayed senses could carry him and pulling her toward him in an awkward embrace. One arm at her waist, firm and immovable, pressing their bodies together, his other hand at the back of her neck, closing the remaining gap which met at one inevitable end. Gin pressed his lips to hers roughly, demanding, though she resisted.

It lasted only a moment and then it was all over, the nurses were coming and this time he had no simple retort or pitiful story. But at least now he was guilty of the crime. He fell back a few steps, giving Rangiku space before she decided he'd earned another well-placed kick. He still couldn't quite force himself to stand straight, though there was a smile on his lips this time that even the pain couldn't erase.

Day 22: Brunch

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject