"...And that's another thing," Ichigo continued, clearly having been on a rant about Grimmjow's attitude, in an attempt to warn his friend. "It's like he hates the thought of being someone anyone has anything good to say about. Like he likes the hate."

Bao merely chuckled as they entered the gym. She assumed Grimmjow had already arrived, because not only were the two of them a bit later than they'd hoped, but she could hear faint music coming from one of the farther rooms. "Sounds good. Definitely can't wait to meet him, then." She replied. Ichigo could rely on the fact that she was resilient, able to fend for herself, flexible. But it was that he didn't want Grimmjow's behavior to run her off—he didn't want the embarrassment of having to explain this or justify that, and despite knowing him better than anyone, he had no idea how he'd act upon introducing the two.

God, he's like a fucking child, Ichigo thought, with an inward grimace. "Guess this is him." Bao said quietly, peeking into the doorway of a padded room, large window at its front, to see a single, blue-haired man with a towel in hand. He breathed heavily, wiping the sweat from his face, before tossing the towel on the nearest railing.

Grimmjow, so far, had done well. Three hours straight, and he'd exceeded all of Ichigo's expectations. He'd poured a lot of his time and effort into helping Grimmjow achieve whatever it was he wanted, and so far, it had been worth it. He wasn't pulled too harshly from his own life and interests, and found it kept him grounded to have someone like Grimmjow to "manage" in a literal and figurative sense. They had certainly met under unusual circumstances, but their bond had grown. It had become symbiotic. Maybe it simply felt good for Ichigo to watch as someone he knew changed for the better, at least, for themselves.

And now, he had been jumping rope for fifteen minutes, his lungs and throat burning with every breath he refused to take through his nose. He watched Ichigo, and this girl—"Bao", apparently—discuss his progress behind a clipboard she held. He stared at her with that same arrogant, kingly look. Why did Ichigo think he needed a babysitter? He gave her a day or two, at most. After that, she'd surely be crying, begging Ichigo to go home, telling him how much of a "handful" Grimmjow was being, and how mean he was.

She was somewhat fit, from what he could see. She wore a white t-shirt that hugged her chest well, and a simple, though thin, black zip-up. His eyes trailed further down, following her slim form to see yoga leggings, "PINK" written out across the waist behind her, and white running shoes. Every now and then, the two would look back to him for reference, as he continued jumping, and his and Bao's eyes would meet.

There was slight discomfort—or perhaps confusion—on her face, but he'd take it. As long as he made her uncomfortable with his mere presence, he was happy. He'd play off that until she confronted him. If she confronted him.

He'd caught a glimpse of her face. Not a bump or blemish on her light-brown skin to speak of. Full lips. Grey eyes. A single mole under her left eye. Extremely curly, honey-blonde hair that reached to just about her mid-back.

"Alright, give it a rest, Grimmjow," Ichigo raised a hand, and the boxer stopped. Bao had free reign for the session to familiarize herself with the gym, and his eyes followed her while she examined the space. Even as Ichigo approached him, outfitted with a pair of boxing pads, he was readily watching her, waiting to tell her she'd seen enough. "We're gonna change things up a bit for practice—you don't have another bout for a little while, but I don't want you getting comfortable and shit, alright?"

"Hn." Grimmjow returned, hardly listening.

Ichigo patted her upper arm again. "Thanks for coming out again, Bao," He said, grateful. She returned his smile with one of her own, something Grimmjow hadn't seen as he began gathering his things. She hadn't said much to him, other than giving him basic tips to maintaining the appropriate posture and other little things he tended to overlook as unimportant. "No problem," She started. "I didn't think it'd be this much fun, getting out of the house and all. But I'm glad I took you up on this."

So far, she hadn't brought anything to the table that he needed. She was mildly stern, telling him to relax his shoulders, not to reach when punching—as the strength is most used with a slight shortness of the arm—and to practice body rotation. He didn't need telling, but Ichigo's expressions were enough to quiet Grimmjow's responses to her, if only barely.

"I'm having a few friends over tonight, if you want to come. I mean, it wasn't really my idea, more like Keigo's. But if you're up to it, and all." Ichigo had rolled his eyes at the thought of Keigo inviting himself to his house, but since Ichigo lived alone, that must have sent him a message.

Bao grinned, broadly. "Yeah. I've got some spare shit I need to get done, but depending on the time, I could stop by."

Grimmjow quickened his pace, packing up his things and getting dressed. It wasn't anywhere near dark yet, but he was ready to go home. Ready to get away from these two. He slung his gym bag over his shoulder, and knelt to lace up his shoes. Unfortunately, that meant staying and listening to them.

"How're Isshin and them?" She asked, pulling her brightly-colored locks into a large ponytail. Ichigo may have said something, but Grimmjow did his best to tune it out. He glared at his shoes, lacing them tightly. Even her goddamned voice. She laughed. Whatever he said was probably some corny shit, joking about his father, and his younger sisters. Grimmjow had never met any of them, merely heard complaints from a tired Ichigo the days after, about how they'd kept him up. He had no intention of meeting them.

He rose, and hurriedly made his way to the door. Ichigo cut himself off, side-stepping to block the blue-haired man. "Woah, hold on, we're not done here, Grimmjow."

"Move." Grimmjow commanded. Ichigo knew he wouldn't be able to keep him much longer if he was set on leaving, so he said what he wanted to immediately. "Look, we're not going to do this for a day and then fall off. I expect you here tomorrow. Same time, and ready to work. Bao's coming too."

Grimmjow smirked. "You must be confused, Kurosaki. You keep mentioning her, as if I give a damn where she is." He pushed his way through, pulling the hood of his sleeveless hoodie up as he made for the front exit. Ichigo exhaled, watching him, as though a fed-up parent. "He's not usually this...difficult. Sure, he doesn't listen, but he's being a pain in my ass right now," He explained, hoping that the boxer wouldn't deter her. Bao merely shrugged, also watching as Grimmjow defiantly left. "Well, he's an entirely different type, Ichigo. That, or he doesn't like me."

"No, if he didn't like you, he'd tell you. We had someone in here a while ago, to help me out with him, Grimmjow broke his nose. It took the whole team to get him off the guy. I'm trying to remember what he said..." Ichigo paused to think.

Bao tried her best to be understanding. Although Ichigo was, to her knowledge, only Grimmjow's coach and trainer, the two had to be friends on some level. Perhaps Ichigo was Grimmjow's only friend, and having someone else introduced so soon was strange to him.

"I don't remember. Maybe you can ask him, once he calms down. Just, again, I'm sorry he's acting like a damn teenager." Ichigo apologized finally, raking a hand through bright, orange hair. "It's okay! Don't worry, he'll come around...eventually." Bao assured him. The two exchanged smiles, and prepared to lock up.