AN EEK GAD IT'S BEEN A WHILE. I don't even want to go check to see how much time has passed since the update. I'm not really sure why the chapter's so late, I just...haven't been writing for the story :'D Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and faved the story! It really means a lot ;)
Grimmjow groaned, forcing himself to sit up. The evening before had been trying, to say the least. He would have been quite content in not speaking to Hiyori until he actually needed to, but she was the type that needed background noise. When he'd shot down turning on the radio, she began talking about every freakin' thing under the sun. And, of course, complained and about almost as much. He realized that his even being there put her in a tough situation; he'd taken her house, hired her to help him find a psychotic and fantastic killer, informed her that she'd been scammed for months on end and gave her a fair amount of stress and irritation besides, but this was where she pulled on her big girl panties and sucked it up. He wasn't complaining about everything, and he'd gone through significantly worse.
He ran his hand through his hair, pulling his bangs down over his eyes. It was still limp from being dyed, and the color was darker than he liked so it could fade into just the right light blue.
No point in stalling anymore, he thought darkly to himself. Best go see if the gremlin's awake yet.
He stood up, stretched then walked into the main room. Hiyori was on the couch, hair down from the night before. She watched from under the blankets, which were tugged up to her nose. She mumbled something at him and he rolled his eyes, sighing.
"What? I can't hear you when you've got that thing yanked up to your eyeballs." She scowled at him, nose wrinkling and pulled the blanket down, snapping "I said you better not expect to walk around practically naked all the time."
Grimmjow glanced down at himself, then rolled his eyes again.
"I'm not practically naked, dolt, I'm wearing sweat pants."
"Half naked, then," she grumbled, and Grimmjow grit his teeth.
Ulquiorra, she better be worth her weight in gold...
He opened up one of the cupboards, searching for breakfast. A small noise came from Hiyori, which made him look back at her.
"What now?" he demanded, and she shrugged. She'd sat up, blanket falling down to reveal a tank top and shorts.
"Nothing, I just...your tattoo."
"What?" He stared at her, then glanced down at his back. Several years ago he'd gotten a large black tattoo off center on the small of his back, a mark that he had once been a part of the inner circle of the Swords. Every one of the ten had gotten them, all in different places. To be honest, he'd forgotten that he'd even had the tattoo, which was kind of funny to think about. It'd been such a source of pride before.
He shrugged at Hiyori, pouring some cereal into a bowl.
"What'd you expect?" he asked, getting out the milk. "I said I'm Grimmjow, right? Why wouldn't you believe me?"
"It's not like you're a questionable person or anything," she said, rolling her eyes. Grimmjow snorted, setting his bowl on the table. He sat in a chair, and after a moment Hiyori walked over to sit by him.
"So a tattoo of something as vague as a six was enough to convince you? That's good."
"No, it wasn't just that tattoo," she retorted, shooting him a look. "It was also the scar. A die hard of yours could have died their hair and gotten the tattoo, no problem, but that...That looked like it almost killed you."
Grimmjow glance down at himself again, a little impressed by how much she knew. A large scar ran down his chest, one that actually ran across his forearms if he crossed them just so in front of himself. He'd gotten it when things had gone fisticuffs when he was still in the Swords, and had spent almost two weeks in the hospital afterwards. As if that hadn't been enough, he'd been forcibly sentenced to bed rest, which had to be enforced by Ulquiorra as he'd kept trying to go out and about, nearly tearing out his stitches.
If you keep up with this idiocy, I'll knock you out, he'd told Grimmjow the second time he'd found him trying to sneak out. Grimmjow had sneered and shrugged his shoulders, acting like he didn't really care, but the flat way Ulquiorra had said it admittedly made his skin prickle. Grimmjow could just envision Ulquiorra springing at him and wrapping his arm around Grimmjow's neck, suffocating him until he passed out.
Suffice to say, he'd stayed at home until he was properly healed after that.
He scowled into his cereal. 45, then just Ichigo Kurosaki, had been with him on that job. He'd forgotten that (how had that happened?), allowing it to slip away amidst the chaos and pain. He remembered afterwards, though, when Kurosaki had dropped by to scoff at Grimmjow for having let himself get so grievously injured, and that he was now stuck laying around his apartment.
Is this becoming a thing? Grimmjow wondered sourly. Am I gonna be hit with a crap load of memories of him when he was just a kid, before he totally cracked?
Even though Grimmjow wasn't bothered by much, that particular thought unsettled him. Living through it all had been bad enough.
"When you're dressed, I need you to go get a car," he told Hiyori, not looking up from his cereal bowl.
"What?"
"I need you to go get a car," he said testily, dragging the words out. She made a face, and snapped "Yeah, I got that, ya git, I just wanna know why."
"Do you really wanna walk everywhere? Either that or you foot the bill for all the taxi's we're going to be taking."
"It's called a bus," Hiyori said pointedly. "Or, you know, the Tube." Grimmjow gave her a look.
"You really think we can take all of our guns and explosives and bodies on a bus or the Tube," he said, laughing slightly as he turned back to his cereal. She made a noise of irritation and stomped over to the fridge, finally demanding "Okay, fine, so we need a car. Why don't you do it?"
"Because I'm doing the hard stuff and calling people," he said, looking over his shoulder at her. "Unless you can get into touch with all those big important criminals we need to pull this whole thing off."
She growled slightly, slamming a cup of yogurt on the table.
"What do you want me to do, then? Steal it or what?"
"No, I want you to buy it. Another reason I can't get it. 45 knows my aliases."
"Get some new ones," she grumbled under her breath, but he continued, specifying the precise used car dealership she needed to go to.
"Make sure you pay with cash, that way the manager knows to wipe the books. He's been doing deals with criminals for years, he knows what to do."
She nodded, staring at her yogurt.
"Anything else?"
"Nope. Just get it today. We've got places to go tomorrow."
"Oh joy," she grumbled, stalking off to the bathroom. About an hour later she was leaving the apartment, grumbling all the way as Grimmjow repeated the address to her.
"And you're sure he's gonna just wipe the books if I pay with cash?" she asked, and he nodded.
"Yeah, yeah, that's exactly how it's gonna work out. Just get going, alright?"
"And while I'm off getting a car, you're gonna be doing what again?"
"Checking up on old friends. I was hoping we could call 'em over and have a proper fiesta."
He shut the door on her grumbles of 'You don't have to be a prick about it...', relieved to finally have her out of his hair. Even though he'd spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours pondering it, he couldn't really imagine her with a gun in her hands, trying to force a few answers out of a person tied to a chair and sweating the bullets as they decided whether 45 or this outraged midget would be the worst to disappoint.
Grimmjow pulled out a phone, grit his teeth and retrieved the number the shrinks had given him from the bedroom. Another reason why he'd sent Hiyori off to get a car - he didn't really need her glaring at him as he tried to speak to the doctors that had let him out.
He dropped again into the chair at the table, waiting as the phone rang.
"Hello?" came the breathless voice of the man he'd spoken through on the intercom in Haven. It sounded as if he had lunged across the room to grab the phone in case it spontaneously decided to stop ringing.
"Hey. You said I had to check in."
"Oh, oh, yes, Mister Jeagerjacques, yes, uhm, thank you." Grimmjow suppressed a snort - the man sounded like he was on his knees thanking God that Grimmjow had actually followed orders.
Wonderful to see they have such faith in me, he thought, rocking onto the back legs of the chair like he'd done only a few days ago when last speaking to this man.
"Look, quit it with the 'mister' thing. I ain't a big business man and we all know it. No need to impress me."
"Or maybe I could have been doing it out of manners," the man said, somewhat sullen at the reprimand. "If I can't say 'mister', what'll keep you from snapping at me when I address you?" the doctor asked, and Grimmjow found himself shrugging. It was kind of weird speaking to the man, he sounded younger than Grimmjow, and lacked the distinct air of having a stick jammed so far up his butt that it made him sit straight.
Maybe I'll get some wiggle room, he thought, smile turning wolfish.
"I don't care, Six, Jeagerjacques, whatever you want."
"...Jeagerjacques, then. And you can call me Brian."
"Yeah, whatever. I've got nothing special to report, just barely settling in. That all you want?"
"I doubt I'd get much more even if it wasn't," he said, and Grimmjow grinned.
"Hey, look at that, you're learning!"
"We noticed that you've made good use of the credit card we gave you," Brian said, voice sounding a bit more formal.
"Hey, I can't let a perfectly good gift to go to waste," Grimmjow said, and could just see Brian roll his eyes.
"I suppose all of your guns and other illegal items were bought in cash from rundown joints in the back of nail salons?"
"What, you think I'm buying items expressly forbidden by our fair country? Brian, I'm shocked."
"Whatever," Brian said back, sounding a bit more like a typical person. Grimmjow decided he liked him, for a shrink. He actually seemed like he had a soul, under all that science and psychoanalytical crap. "Just make sure that you keep up on calling in."
"Yeah, sure. I'll call if I need anything."
"That's not what I-"
"Good as you're getting," Grimmjow said, then hung up. He switched phones, then dialed a number he had managed to dig up the day before. He waited for the ring, breath baited until he heard the voice on the other end.
"Hello, who is this?" a woman asked, and Grimmjow broke into a wide smile.
"Bonjour, et comment est la belle dame aujourd'hui?" he asked, and was rewarded with a gasp.
"Grimmjow?!" she demanded in a harsh whisper, followed by "You jerk, it's been years!"
"It's nice to hear from you, too, Nel," Grimmjow continued, still in French. She switched languages as well, voice torn between a laugh and a shout.
"You've got a lot of guts, mister! I've been so worried about you, the stories I've heard-"
"Eh, I promise you they're all stories. Especially the one where I go to Central America."
"I knew it," she said, and he could hear the grin in her voice. "You're definitely the first world country kind of guy. Stable economies, work's more of a challenge, the mob not running the whole show..."
"Where's the fun in any of that? It's like playing with a bunch of brats who like throwing tantrums."
Nel laughed, and he gave himself a moment to enjoy the sound before getting to business.
"Hey, I need to see you. I've got some stuff we need to talk about."
"Mm? And where do you want to do that?"
"I was thinking your favorite club. Is that still open?"
"The Orchid Lounge? Of course!"
"Then I'll meet you there tomorrow, say...nine?"
"Any earlier, and I'd think you'd actually want to see me," she remarked dryly, and he scoffed into the phone.
"Look, Nel, I'm busy. I've got a lot of crap to deal with, straightening things up, you know, stuff like that."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'll see you then. And...Grimmjow?"
"Yeah?"
"It was nice to hear from you," she said softly, and he thought for a moment about how he really only called Nel up to ask her to shoot something. But he couldn't really bother himself with pleasantries like keeping up on chitchat, the fact that he deigned to go to her in the first place said enough, and she knew that. Few people got that honor, say the least. And if she really wanted to talk, Nel could just as easily pick up the phone and call him herself.
"I know," he said, then listened to the dial tone as Nel hung up. He shook his head, a grin stretching his mouth. That was just like her, so in a hurry to get going she often forgot to think about the fact that maybe she was being incredibly rude.
Grimmjow stood up and went and got dressed, feeling a little more confident in things. He knew that he had he had miles to go before he was anywhere near ready to track down 45, but this was definitely a start.
AN Nel! I love her quite a bit, though it was weird writing for her. Maybe it's because we only saw a snippet of her adult personality? Either way, it's good to have her here :)