Disclaimer: I own neither Bleach no Andrew Loydd Weber – I said it before, and I'll say it again; more's the pity. Anyway, this is utter crack – came to me at around midnight, best as I can recall, and I make no apologizes for its utter lack of sense. Some knowledge of Andrew Loydd Weber needed for this to make even the tiniest smidgeon of sense; then again, sense is in rather short supply. Read and review people! Please?
The Addressing of Cats
"What!" Grimmjow growled at the onna, face irate.
He'd drawn the unfortunate duty of babysitting after one too many of the Numeros had decided to "have a little fun" with the sole human occupant of Hueco Mundo. Save one human in a moment of weakness, and everyone expects you to do it again – his reward for such 'foresighted preservation of resources' had been more of the same. Some days, he doubted Aizen's claim that the throne of Heaven was long since vacant – Grimmjow was positive that his existence was living proof there was a God, one who derived a sick pleasure out of tormenting him.
"Dammit, will you stop doing that!" The onna was normally quiet and unresponsive – and freakin' boring. Usually, he wouldn't have minded a bit more excitement. At the moment, he longed for boredom - more proof for his argument of the existence of God. The female had not stopped staring at him since he'd arrived; the constant pressure of her gaze made him twitch in irritation.
"Oh!" Orihime's face flushed and she tilted her head downwards, awkwardly lacing her fingers together as her hair curtained her face. "Sumimasen. I was just - " she paused, voice shy as she peered upwards, eyes half-hidden beneath a fall of her long orange hair.
"What?" The tall arrancar snarled again.
Orihime drew a deep breath. "I was wondering if you were more like Growltiger or the Run Tum Tigger because while Grimmjow-san does growl a lot he likes to make a horrible mess of things even more but you do seem to like to pick a lot of fights and Growltiger loved fighting things but the Rum Tum Tigger wouldn't do anything that anyone asked him to do and I've never seen Grimmjow-san obey an order from anyone without complaining but Growltiger was really really good at fighting and – "
Grimmjow slapped a hand across her mouth, cutting her chatter of mid-sentence. "Do you ever shut up, onna? It was a rhetorical question." He added quickly, seeing Orihime draw breath to speak. He paused, expression nonplussed as he absently wiped his hand on his trousers. "Who the fuck are you talking about?"
"Oh!" Orihime's face brightened, her hands moving animatedly as she explained. "They're cats! Because you see, Grimmjow-san is a cat, and I though he might be like the cats from the songs!"
"The – songs?"
"Yes!" Orihime's movements grew excessive, waving her arms in abstract patterns as she warmed to her topic. "Like Skimbleshanks or Mr. Mistoffeles or Gus the Theatre Cat!" She paused, staring hard at the bemused arrancar before leaning forward in excitement. "Ne, Grimmjow-san, do you have three different names?" Her face was alive with anticipation.
"What?" Grimmjow's face was slack with puzzlement as he struggled to recover from Orihime's verbal assault. He rocked back on the balls of his feet as he gazed at the small female, frowning as he tried to decipher her words. "There are songs about cats?"
Orihime nodded vigorously. "A whole lot of them! It's like an opera, only with cats, and the cats all have different names and they fight the dogs and win and the best of them get to go up to the Heavyside Layer and my brother got me the soundtrack when I was only this big!" She raised her hand approximately a foot above the paved stone of the floor.
"Songs, huh?" Grimmjow preened in almost subconscious pride. Forget what he thought earlier. This sounded interesting. He settled down on the floor, propping his fist in one hand. His smile held a definite hint of smugness as he stared at the bouncy girl. "You know any of them?"
Orihime nodded again, hair bouncing wildly as she opened her mouth to sing.
OOO
A week later, the ranks of the arrancar were wondering just what the hell had gotten into the Sexta Esparda.
Mention was made of his newly discovered penchant for prowling the outskirts of Las Noches in his released form, gleefully pouncing on any unsuspecting soul who crossed his path. Some theorized that it was some bizarre form of training regimen; however, they were unable to explain by his newfound habit of referring to the various fraccion as "namby-pants Jellicles." There were rumors that the feline esparda had been engaged in intensive negotiations with his Zanpakto, trying to persuade it to adopt a new name; as it was, repeated shouts of "Growl, Pantera!" followed by howls of bloodthirsty glee were quickly becoming commonplace.
Ulquiorra, for one, was quietly disturbed by the blue-haired esparda's newfound habit of cackling madly in his presence before shouting that he'd "never confess!" and to "bring it on, Skimbles!"
Stark raised an eyebrow when he was addressed as "Bustopher" before shrugging and returning to his nap. Halibel's eyes narrowed when she learned that Grimmjow was polling the gossip network as to whether or not she could be classified as "glamorous".
Even Aizen was forced to admit his ignorance as to the phenomena; he simply could not understand why Grimmjow now insisted on referring to him as "Macavity-sama."
OOO
End notes: Because can't you just see Grimmjow doing all that?!