It was easy to see, really, how Grimmjow had the blonde wrapped around his little finger. There were other followers in his little posse, yes- but in Ilforte's eyes more so than the others you could occasionally catch a glimpse of pure adoration, even though the expression didn't suit his darkly beautiful face. He was as good as a lapdog to the espada, despite how loudly his brother had voiced his protests of their family name being disgraced in such a way, almost always seen following his 'idol' one or two steps behind around Las Noches.

They were alike, yet different- both enigmatic, being able to exude a sense of power that ensured the cooperation of those around them, but at the same time one was embarrassingly loud and the other contemplatively quiet- except for when the time called for it.

Now was not one of those times.

"We're leaving.."

"... what, tonight?"

"Now."

For anyone within hearing distance, it was child's play to identify the two voices, one gruff and one calm- though slightly unsure of the situation.

There was a slight pause after the command and a shuffle as if one of them were taking a step back.

"So you give me no notice? I... have to go talk to my brother first."

"Like hell you do- we're ready. Are you coming, or not?"

The person whom was imposing sounded increasingly angry, characteristic of a short temper- and a certain espada that was famous for such a trait.

"... it's something I must do. I owe him that much."

There was another quick shuffle and then a muffled slam as something hit the wall- something soft- and then a groan followed shortly after, echoing down the deserted halls of the palace. It appeared the patience of the 'leader' had run out for the blonde's persistence.

"Your loyalty is being put to the test here. You agreed to follow my orders when I approached you- so you better fuckin' follow through."

"I swear..." The second voice sounded weaker and strained, like it was difficult to talk. Obviously the louder one had gripped him somewhere near the neck, making getting himself heard more troublesome. "This is... the only thing I ask of you."

"Last time I checked, I didn't grant favours to the likes of you."

"Ten minutes. ... please."

It sounded so unnatural for the noble voice to appear so vulnerable and exposed, almost begging for something that seemed important enough for him to go through this routine abuse by the person he had chosen to follow so adamantly.

A loud growl ripped out and then a quiet 'thunk' shortly after, Ilforte seemingly being dropped harshly to the ground. It didn't sound like he made any move to get up immediately, though- now understanding his place and the apparent severity of what he had been granted.

"Ten minutes. One second late, and I'll make sure that you never see the light of day again."

"..."

"Got it?"

"Yes, Grimmjow."

The last barrier of dignity had broken down for the arrancar lying prone on the floor, his blonde hair shadowing the real expression on his face. Despite the treatment he received, he didn't doubt once the choice he had made to follow the blue-haired monster, believing every bit that he was as powerful and cunning as any of the other espada and that he would surely lead them to 'victory'.

Even though one would assume the conversation was over, still they both lingered, one waiting for the other to leave before he could make tracks to the place he had just pleaded to go to. Another rustle and there was a quiet grunt as Grimmjow yanked his follower up from the floor, getting sick of seeing one of his disciples looking so weak. It didn't suit their image, nor the bloody personality he knew the blonde had.

To have such a brutal person on his little team was a treat, though the espada often wished that Ilforte showed more of his destructive nature when he was around him- it was so deliciously macabre, just like his scientist brother. No doubt some teaching had gone on in the subject matter, and though Grimmjow wanted the least to do with the Octava as possible, he had to admit that the violence that the blonde showed when in battle or irked by one of the fraccion was something to be congratulated on.

Now being held up by the collar of his pristine white jacket, the arrancar decided to look defiantly up into the eyes of his leader, thoughts running through his head of how to get away to say his 'goodbyes', sarcastic though they were- and how to keep him appeased at the same time.

Submission seemed to work. He knew that the man holding him had a certain liking for being able to dominate those with power- so there was no reason why it wouldn't work here, and now.

"... thank you."

Almost whispered as if he were afraid someone else were to hear it, another pause rang deafeningly through the palace corridors, the smug smile spreading across the espada's face almost audible. It seemed like Ilforte had hit the nail on the head through his powers of deduction, and might just get what he wanted.

For now, anyway.
It was anyone's guess what the other would have in store for him and his troublesome attitude when, not if they returned from their little jaunt into the Living World- but anything this idol decided to bestow upon him, he figured he deserved, ever set in his ways.

Szyael had always said he had believed blindly when there was no substance to his admiration.

Eventually, Grimmjow released his grip on the arrancar and he landed on his feet, a small sigh of relief passing from his lips.

"You have ten minutes, Ilforte. Use them wisely."

Nothing else needed to be said- instead, the blonde bowed his head and walked off in the opposite direction, heading towards the labs in the bowels of Las Noches to pay a quick 'visit' to another certain controlling engima.

If he had the chance to think about it, he would realise that his life seemed to be overflowing with them.