Grimmjow sighed as he reapproached the door. He had been pacing back and forth for about an hour between the door and the end of the hall. For some odd reason, knocking seemed like a terribly binding commitment to this woman who was desperate for companionship, but on the other hand, the only way to seek his quarry was by gaining her trust. "Aw, screw it," he muttered.

"Grimmjow?" he heard a voice ask hopefully from behind the door.

"Hey," he sighed noncommittally. "Did anyone bring your food yet?"

"Yes, it—" she cut herself off. Grimmjow cursed inwardly as an awkward hush fell over the door.

"Was there somthin' wrong with it?" he asked, crabbily running one of his broad hands through his choppy blue hair.

"Well, It's not that I'm ungrateful or—"

"Get to the point."

"Um, it was rather bland…" her voice was clearly injured by his deadly tone.

"Is there something I can bring you?" he asked, though his voice still seemed stiff and annoyed. He listened to the resounding silence from the other side of the door.

"No," she warbled quietly, her voice trembling. "Would you please leave me alone?"

"No." Orihime wheeled to face the door as his voice snapped irritably. "You made a big deal about me coming back, so don't you dare tell me to go when I just got here. Now, I'm gonna get you some more damned food, and you're gonna eat it, and you're not gonna think it's bland. Got it?"

Orihime heard him storming to himself all the way down the hall. She looked at the door, the astonishment still plastered across her face. In his own way, Grimmjow actually seemed to be quite… nice wasn't quite the word, but…

"He's sort of like Ichigo," Orihime smiled for the first time since her arrival.

-

Grimmjow stormed into the kitchens, still muttering angrily to himself. Various Arrancar scuttled around fearfully as he strode to the overseer.

"C-can I help you?" the Arrancar stuttered.

"The prisoner wasn't satisfied with her meal," he told the little man. "Said it was too bland."

"Ah, well, I'm sorry to he—"

"So make it again," Grimmjow snarled, cutting off any chance for excuses.

"Yes, sir!" the man yelped. Grimmjow watched impatiently as the workers scuttled about fearfully, preparing a meal that they hoped would not be as bland. They brought him a tray laden with a covered plates and every bottle of seasoning they could jam on. There was a bottle of chocolate sauce, pickles, cayenne pepper, and a multitude of other, seemingly random bottles. Grimmjow knew very little about food. Arrancar didn't have to eat, but the prisoner and the former Soul Reapers did. The only 'normal' food he had ever consumed was the tea that Aizen always insisted upon during the meetings.

"Ah, this meal should be more to her satisfaction," the overseer bowed to him, his voice quivering slightly.

"It had better be," Grimmjow turned on his heel.

"Wait, you'll need the key," the little man stuttered.

"Of course," a truly wicked grin slowly began to spread across Grimmjow's face. "Of course."

-

Orihime quickly rose to her feet as she heard the scraping of a key. The door swung open to reveal…

Grimmjow nodded shortly for lack of anything better to do or say. Orihime couldn't help staring. She had remembered the scruffy blue hair and the jawbone correctly but she had not remembered how tan his large square hands were, nor had she remembered that broad, well-built chest being so exposed.

Grimmjow himself stared for a moment. The main thing he had remembered about her were those steely grey eyes alight with quiet dignity and that insanely gorgeous cascade of wild sunset-colored hair. He hadn't recalled her porcelain pale skin that looked as though it would shatter if he touched it or that strange sweater that clung so tightly to her, and he definitely hadn't recalled that tiny skirt that only covered a fraction of her long, china-like legs.

"I brought your food," he muttered, simply to break the awkward silence. As she took the tray from him, she murmured a quiet thanks. The silence overwhelmed as she began to eat. Grimmjow twitched irritably. He hated this. The other day, despite her despair, she seemed completely willing to pour her heart out to him. At the time, this seemed completely undesirable, but now, anything would have been better than this deafening quiet.

He flopped awkwardly on her sofa to watch her eat. Orihime noticed something strange. "You always sit the same way," she observed as she wiped her lips with a napkin. Grimmjow cocked an eyebrow. Okay, that was…random but at least she had broken the silence and at least she hadn't broken it with tears.

"Oh, yeah?"

"You always sit with your elbows resting on your knees," she allowed a small smile to permeate her face. Grimmjow seemed visibly pleased.

"I guess I do," he nodded after thinking about it for a moment. They sat for a less awkward five minutes until Orihime was finished. Standing, Orihime bowed politely.

"Thank you very much," she told him.

"Yeah, no problem," he felt his cheeks grow slightly warm as he looked awkwardly off into another direction.

"Oh, and Grimmjow?" she added as he began to leave.

"Hm?"

"It was nice to meet you," Orihime gave him a smile and Grimmjow felt his resolve melt. Smiles were something he definitely wasn't used to seeing. Oh sure, he smiled, but it was never something kind and pure like this. His smiles were only when his face was spattered with blood of his enemies, when battle and pain were thick in the air. This smile was a simple acknowledgement of his presence, not as an opponent, but as a friend. That smile nearly stopped his heart. That smile was something he definitely wouldn't mind seeing again.

-

This is called "Second Wind" because it… kind of fit. Oh, who cares?

GRIMMHIME IS SO MUCH FUN!!!!

omg!!! thank you so much for all the reviews and follows I got on this story! I will worship you all for more reviews! MOAR REVIEWS!

~Curls