Chapter 2

"So tells me why are you sleeping in my closet again, Kuchiki." Uryuu demands with a frown on his face. He's currently facing or more like looking down at his unwanted guest. Even when they are both sitting on the floor, his upper body towers over her.

The petite Shinigami, his enemy by default, is sitting seiza style. Her seating style is old and proper but her haughty voice and face are anything but.

"Because you kicked me out of your sewing room." She harrumphs to show off her displeasure, and then does a very bad imitation of his voice, "my craft room is my sanctuary." She only succeeds at making her voice deeper.

With only a second behind, he points an accusatory finger at his enemy and retorts back. "I will not allow your dirty feet to soil the air in that room."

"Hey," at that she jumps up and stands on her feet. Her face looks slightly flushed, and her eyes are wide, possibly with embarrassment or indignation. "My feet are clean. I'm not that dirty."

He pushes his glasses up on his nose and breathes through his nose loudly. He can feel the nerves on his temples twitching out of stress. "Just stay out of that room." He orders.

"Hey I'm staying out aren't I?" She sits primly back down again, and only then his mind finally registers something which he would ordinarily spot right away. Her PJ pants are dragging on the floor even though she has already done a shoddily job at folding the hemline up.

"Why- " he has to pause to collect himself at the sight before his eyes. "Why do you even wear bottoms that long?" When you are so short? He keeps that thought to himself. One does not waste one's energy in attacking an enemy's fashion sense.

She turns her face away with her nose upturned, not looking at him. "Well since you have no younger sisters, I can't possibly borrow any PJs." She crosses her arms around her chest. "It can be very hard to find clothes that fit properly here in the living world."

"For you maybe," he remarks snidely.

She turns her face back instantly and shoots arrows with her eyes at him. "Why would you understand? You probably sew all your clothes." She makes a point of looking up and down at him, specifically his white top with the big blue cross on it. He does have tops with blue crosses on them. Even his bed sheet, and part of his bedroom wall have blue crosses on them. If he can, he wants to show off his Quincy pride in all his clothes and possessions.

He clears his throat since she does have half a point. He's big enough of a man to concede that. "You just need to shop in the appropriate department." Oops he went and did it away.

Now the petite woman looks as if she's itching to throw something at him. He grounds his teeth together to hold off letting out a sneer or a snicker. It's fucking funny to keep jabbing at her and raises her heckle. If his father was home, would he be curious that Uryuu was having an argument with someone at night? Uryuu can't even remember when was the last time he even bring a "guest" home, or if he ever did.

Or would Ryuuken care even less. Ishida Ryuuken is a very busy man, being a doctor and the director of Karakura Hospial. To say that the two of them don't see eyes to eyes is an understatement. Even when they are both home, they rarely say a word to each other.

She suddenly stands up with her back straight and her head holds high. "I like these PJ." Her dismissive tone effectively changes the topic or dropping it. "I'll just borrow your scissor and cut the length off a bit. Problem is solved." She smiles feeling pleased with her thinking.

She proclaimed herself previously that she was almost 15 times older than him, but some of her words belong more to a child. "You can't just cut them up like a piece of paper." He feels indignant in place of her clothing. People have to treat their clothes with more care.

She smirks "why don't you fix them then?" Her big eyes are gleaming as if daring him.

"No way!" He blanks his face again and goes back to giving her an unfriendly look. It's a look he's a master at.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to." She continues to have her damn smirk on and something in him cracks. His temples throb and he squints at her, his mind is already calculating her legs' length at the speed of light. If she wasn't currently wearing the said pants on, he would have finish cutting, and stitching them in minutes flat. He has fixed much more complicated materials and products in the handicraft club. A simple hemline alteration is nothing.