Behind his mask, he shows no sort of recognition to his comrades, the self-centered ten who have pushed their way through the ranks to sit at this table of arrogance. His sister would have laughed to see them, calling them pompous asses, and then boxed his ear for not coming home. He doesn't smile at the memory of her. He hasn't smiled in years.
They have their orders and they waste no time in leaving the cramped chamber. Noitra's motives are clear from the second he rises, fingers tracing at chain belt that hangs from his waist. Even under the disapproving eye of the woman beside him, he chuckles to himself. Grimmjow gathers his pride, shoving past the elderly arrancar. Ulquiorra is the only one that speaks, surprisingly. His hushed tones to the larger arrancar that seems to be always at his side are inaudible to the rest of them over the sounds of the other members of the ten rising and returning to their quarter.
When the others leave, he feels Aizen's eyes, hot and curious on him. They search him out for a reaction and are left in want. He doesn't know what his new lord knows. Nor does he want to. This is not part of the agreement between them. The little Kuchiki noble never has been.
He crosses his arms over his chest, the lengths of his uniform coattail making soft, short sounds against the white stone floor.
The three at the head of the table watch him leave in silence. Aizen closes his eyes as he takes a sip of his tea, content to rest in his seat as his two lieutenants wait at his sides.
"So, ya think he might, Aizen-taichou?" Gin's drawl breaks the silence as he drapes himself into the abandoned chair of the sixth Espada, picking up his discarded cup with a curious eye turned to their beloved leader.
"Nonsense. He decided his loyalties when sided with us," Tousen's even tones provide a simple contrast to Gin's insincere ones. He never sits, even when Gin kicks Ulquiorra's chair a bit as if to draw the blind man's attention to it.
Aizen shakes his head at the pair, his fatherly eyes watch as the tall mask of the ninth Espada becomes little more than a dot in the distant hallway, "I think you'll find the answer is far more complicated than that."
"It always is, ain't it?"