A/N Hello again! Special thanks to my dear XiaBubbleQueen and SendMoreParamedics for their comments on the last chapter and to DolphinWhisperer for her suggestions! Another long chapter for you – continuing the date. Enjoy, enjoy, comment, comment, and surprise, surprise, I don't own Bleach. ;o)

After the chaos of the restaurant, the walk through the Rukongai shopping district was a welcome respite. Unbeknownst to Hisagi and Nanao, the captain general had forbidden anyone at the restaurant to leave, essentially sealing the dining room with all patrons, Shinigami and otherwise, inside. Renji had tried to bribe a waiter from the kitchen to follow them; however, after several fires involving the captain general and the wait staff, the waiter had looked at Renji as if he had suggested slow methodical suicide using a pair of tongs, a box of toothpicks and a large bottle of hot sauce. No one was leaving the restaurant, so as they began to settle in, Yachiru ordered another pickle and climbed onto Kira's lap for a nap. "You're sticky!" she said, nomming on her pickle. The blond was too soused to notice.

Nanao and Shuuhei wandered through the streets, investigating a few of the shops and kiosks without spending any money. Shuuhei had felt badly about the amount spent at the restaurant, and even though he had permission to spend, spend, spend, the man who rarely had two pennies to rub together couldn't bring himself to spend someone else's hard earned cash. Nanao didn't seem to mind, even after she purchased an inexpensive pair of soft shoes to wear instead of her heels. She charged them to the eighth division account, knowing full well that Shunsui Kyouraku often charged to that account and then reimbursed the division. He would probably pay the bill without even questioning it.

"Hisagi, do you mind if we stop back at my apartment?" she asked as they walked out of a bead and incense store into the fresh evening air. "I wore these heavy robes because I didn't want to lead you on, but I really want to slip into something more comfortable now."

Hisagi teased, "I see, so now you want to lead me on?"

"Yes, I mean, no!" Nanao cried out, horrified by her blunder. "Oh, no. I mean I'm not trying to lead you on, but I'm not NOT trying to lead you on either." She hid her face in her hands. "That didn't come out right at all!"

Hisagi placed a hand on her shoulder as they walked. "It's okay, Nanao. I'm just giving you a hard time. You're kind of cute when you're flustered. Let's head back to your place so you can change, and then we'll take our champagne and go for a walk along the promenade by the river."

"That would be nice," she said, "At least, if I'm walking, my foot won't be in my mouth."

When they arrived, Hisagi made himself comfortable on the couch in the living area, loosening his tie, while Nanao excused herself to her bedroom. The living area was tidy with light walls, white upholstered furniture, chrome and glass sofa tables and a lush cream colored carpet. Except for a pile of garish clothes flung carelessly over the arm of a chair and a table upon which was scattered hair and make-up accessories, the room was almost as severe as Nanao's reputation, yet her personal feminine touches were also evident. Apparently, despite what she had said earlier, she liked flowers as much as her captain, although her choices tended to run towards pristine white camellias and lavender, both in floral arrangements and pictures on the walls. Hisagi filed that information away in his memory for future reference.

A single red rose in a bud vase stood out as a bold element of color in the room. The corners of his mouth curved slightly upwards. It was the one he had given her at the bachelorette party.

In the corner, oddly out of place, stood a locked wooden cabinet with glass doors that had a collection of porcelain animals in it. Hisagi rose from the couch to examine them. The animals were from six inches to 10 inches tall and displayed on glass shelves in the cabinet. While the cabinet itself was spotless, it was evident from a thin layer of white dust on the shelves, that the animals inside hadn't been moved in some time.

Upon closer examination, Shuuhei realized that while realistic in body styling, all of the beasts had the face of Shunsui Kyouraku. The bird had pink wings, a tail, and Shunsui's face with a beak instead of a nose. The giraffe had a long neck upon which sat an elongated Shunsui-faced giraffe's head with a straw hat. Had Shunsui been an elephant, he would have used his long trunk to hold flowers, just like the one in the cabinet. But what intrigued Shuuhei the most was the pike sticking out of Bird-Beak Shunsui's breast, the arrow in the neck of the Shunsui-faced giraffe, and the decapitation of Shunsui the elephant, still happily holding bright flowers in its trunk as its front foot rested upon its head on the ground much like an elephant at a circus stepping onto a platform to perform.

"I made those," a voice behind him stated.

Hisagi turned to see Nanao dressed in a floral halter sundress and flats, with no lipstick and her hair in a high ponytail. She might not have been trying to encourage him, he thought to himself, but she wasn't exactly trying to discourage him either.

"I took lessons about forty years ago when the captain was in another one of his moods, but I didn't keep them up. I had some anger issues back then," she shrugged.

"So I see," he nodded, looking at the animals again. He was awed by the resemblance. Each figurine, despite its gruesome end state, genuinely looked like the animal it was supposed to be. Even Kyouraku's face, integrated into the animals, was realistic if one could overlook the beak and trunk. "They look great, really life-like," he said. "Dead, but life-like." Casting his eyes on her, he added with admiration, "You too."

"Which one? Do I look dead or life-like?" Nanao chuckled softly, shaking her head, her ponytail swinging back and forth easily. A display of humor danced across her face.

"That's not what I meant," he protested, a slight blush crossing his cheeks. "I meant you look great. By the way, does your captain know you're a knock-out?"

Again she laughed, pushing up her glasses on her nose.

Shuuhei laughed too, before changing the subject as quickly as he could. "So you promised to tell me what you write in that big book of yours."

She looked up at him, the smile still dancing in her eyes. "Children's stories and nursery rhymes and poems of substance," she said quietly, her insecurities creeping back the moment the words were out of her mouth. She could only imagine how difficult it must be for him to believe that the Dragon Queen liked children, since she knew about her hard reputation among the men of the Seireitei. Yet the dark-haired man had softened her rigid veneer in a matter of only a few hours. By telling him about her writing, she had risked showing him more about the private Nanao than she had ever shown anyone, even the captain, with the possible exception of Yachiru. Watching his reaction closely, she wondered if she had made a mistake in trusting him. If he laughed, she would have her answer.

Shuuhei stood with his hand stroking his scar, a humorous half-smile crossing his lips. Finally, he asked sheepishly, "Poems and stuff, huh? Am I in them?"

"A few," she smiled, as his smile turned into a full one. Encouraged, she continued. "Yachiru is my literary critic."

His look of surprise made her giggle nervously, her hand to her mouth. It was a light and airy sound, pleasant to his ears.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, before he could figure it out for himself, "but Yachiru is the perfect reviewer for my stories. If she likes it, I know it's too violent for most of the children of the Rukongai. If she tells me it's boring or not gory enough, it's probably just right. And three bags of candy now and again is a small price to pay for such an accurate predictor of audience response."

"Guess you'd better not forget about Candy Tuesday if you still want her to review for you," he said.

"She was talking to you, remember?" She flipped his tie into his face.

He gulped. "In that case, I guess I'd better not forget. So read something you wrote. One of your poems of substance." His smile was encouraging.

"I couldn't," she answered bashfully.

"Sure, you could," he pressed. "Read something about me."

"No, I can't!" she gasped, clutching her fist to her bosom.

"Why? Is it a bash poem? Did you skewer me real good, as Ikkaku might say? Am I the villain in one of your poems because of this quest?" He twisted an imaginary mustache between two fingers. "Nyuh-uh-uh."

"No, no, it's nothing like that," she said hesitantly. "It's just that I'm not ready to go that far."

He was surprised. "It's not like I'm asking you for sex, Nanao. I'm just asking you to read a poem."

She hesitated, a growing panic building in her throat. "But I can't read a poem about you, don't you see? That's a lot like having sex to me because my poems can get very personal at times. I'm baring my soul."

Shuuhei paused to study her. Nanao was wringing her hands nervously in front of her. He could almost see the wall being built between them if he pressed the matter much longer. "Then read something else," he said gently, taking her hands in his. "A nursery rhyme."

Her posture softened and a smile returned to her face. Seeing that as a good sign, he teased, "If you don't, I'll have to take the snowflake back."

"You wouldn't!" she cried out, still holding his hands. Standing on her tiptoes, she stared into his gray eyes and said, "Okay, you win, you sneaky blackmailer, as long as you promise to make me another snowflake. This time, with scissors."

"Got paper?" he asked. "You read; I'll snowflake."

Reluctantly, they released hands and Hisagi watched her walk over to a work desk, memorizing every hip movement. Nanao retrieved ornamental paper and scissors and with difficulty, a large volume from a high shelf. Shuuhei thought about helping her, but he was too busy enjoying the view.

She brought the supplies and the book back over to the living area and sat across from him. After handing him the paper and scissors, she began to page through the book. "I'll read you something from here. This book's been finished for awhile. But be warned; this isn't my children's story book. Yachiru has that, so these are mostly political poems and assorted silliness. They're not particularly good, so don't expect much."

"Would you read already? I'm almost done here." He held up a folded piece of paper with numerous cuts in it that didn't look like anything at all.

Taking a look, she said, "I'd suggest you keep cutting."

Small scraps of paper flew in her direction. "Smart ass."

Flipping through the pages of the big book, she heaved a sigh, "You're picking those up, you know. Here's a poem. Don't say I didn't warn you.

"Yachiru, Yachiru…I keep her happy by writing poems about her. That way if she thinks she's in it, she'll review for me."

"You're stalling. Read."

She started again as he cut more bits of paper, letting them cascade to the floor:

"Yachiru, Yachiru, with bubble gum hair,

Captured a Menos and hollow with flair,

She blew a big bubble and trapped them in there,

Yachiru, Yachiru, with a bubble gum snare."

"Interesting, and very true to life. That kid can get sticky food stuff anywhere. Frankly, I think it's part of her zanpakutou. If you can't cut your enemy, glue 'em together with food. Got another one?"

Chuckling, she turned the page. "Ready for one about your buddy, Kira?" He didn't answer. Fascinated, she watched him cut, the scissors flying as did more bits of paper. Not lifting his eyes from what he was doing, his tongue lolled from his mouth as he worked.

Adding a snip, he looked up and smiled, "I'm glad he's not here, but I think I can handle it. If you've got one insulting Ikkaku, I'm all ears."

"I might," she said, "but this one's for Kira. Here goes:

Gin, Gin, Grinning Machine,

Opened his eyes and smudged Kira's sheen,

Closed his eyes, so he couldn't be seen,

Gin, Gin, you grin, but you're mean."

"Hmm. Sounds about right," he said thoughtfully, making a careful cut.

"I had a Gin Ichimaru obsession for a while. I figured that he hurt Kira, but then couldn't look at the damage. I just wanted to strangle the man after he tossed Kira to the curb." She strangled the air in front of her.

"I know what you mean," laughed Shuuhei, bitterness tingeing the sound. "I didn't know you were that close to Izuru."

"I'm not," she said, looking at her hands, "but I felt so bad for you and Kira and Momo. No one deserved that. I wrote to get out the anger."

"A murdered porcelain animal wouldn't do?"

"Naw, those are reserved for Captain Kyouraku. I have some poems about you in here too, in that context."

"You mean you turned me into a porcelain animal, murdered me, and then wrote a poem about it?" He framed his words with his hands. "Shuuhei is screw-heid."

"Don't be ridiculous. I mean that I wrote about the aftermath of the desertions, but I don't think this is the right time to read them, do you?"

"I suppose you're right. We're trying to have a good time here, so let's not dredge up an unpleasant past. Maybe one of these days…" his voice trailed off. "Got any more?"

"Here's a nonsense poem," she said, trying to lighten the mood. "You'll see why at the end. I'm quite proud of this one. I think it's extremely original.

Yumi, Yumi, why so gloomy?

'Let me tell you why,

I gave a feather to Ikkaku,

Then he made me cry.'

'Kaku, 'Kaku, why'd you do it?

'Listen, here's the sitch,

He wanted me to sport a feather,

It made my eyebrow twitch.

'Kira, Kira liked the feather

(But he's such a phony),

He stuck that feather in his bangs

And called it macaroni.'

"I don't know where that last line came from," she marvelled. "I thought of it and I liked it, so I put it in, even if it doesn't make much sense."

"It kind of sounds song-like to me," said Hisagi. "At least it was a feather and not really food. Kira could hide a small delicatessen under those bangs of his," he said, tongue firmly planted in his cheek. "I'm trying to figure out why he liked the feather so much. Do you suppose it was one of Yumichika's peacock feathers? Kira likes bright things. He'd follow a spot of light anywhere. You should see him when we shine Ikkaku's head and point him at the sun. Kira goes crazy trying to catch the rainbows."

"I've never stopped to analyze my poetry, but you could be right." She laughed. "You make him sound like a pet."

"Duh! It's Kira. He's Yachiru's pet now." He shrugged. "But, according to the poem, Ikkaku calls him a phony, so Kira's a poser!" He hunched over in thought. An 'a-ha' moment launched him upright. "Of course, that's it! Secretly, Kira wants to be just like Yumi! He wishes he was Yumi, so he puts the feather in his bangs as homage to the man who originally gave it to Ikkaku with the hopes that Yumi will notice him and take him under his wings…Huh? Huh? See the feather reference? He wants Yumi to teach him all of the things that Ikkaku has rejected through his act of discarding the feather from Yumi in the first place."

"Wow," said Nanao, awed by Hisagi's analysis of her poem, "I didn't know you could be that deep. A male Shinigami with a brain; I never saw that coming. I am thoroughly impressed. You might actually be a man that I can hold a genuine intellectual conversation with!"

Hisagi reddened, "Tousen made me read literary stuff to him. Guess I picked up one or two things along the way. Me and intellect; go figure." He fingered the cut paper on his lap, then laughed, "Can you imagine wearing macaroni in your hair, on purpose?"

"I'm still trying to envision the small delicatessen in Kira's bangs," she said.

He grinned. "Speaking of Yachiru…"

"We were?"

"Sure, we were. The deli's just the right size for her. She's probably mooching a sandwich as we speak."

Nanao stifled a laugh.

"Did you see that little spitfire go tonight?" He paused. "She must be fueled by pickles. I almost felt sorry for the captains and the guys, except they got what they deserved for following us."

"Like I told you, she's my secret weapon."

"Handy little bugger, isn't she?" He opened and closed the scissors several times in the air, before saying seriously, "I always thought your book was just a training manual or maybe a rule book."

"So does my captain," she answered. "Actually, when I write in it, he thinks I'm recording his every move for posterity. The problem with that is that he rarely moves unless ordered to, so there's not much to write about, really." She squeezed her thumb and her index finger together tightly. "About this much."

"Do you have a poem about him?"

"Sort of. This one might hit a little closer to home for you, but here goes.

When Tousen went missing,

'Twas lots of hissing."

She looked at Shuuhei who nodded for her to go on.

"When Gin disappeared,

'Twas worse than we feared.

When Aizen went manic.

'Twas cause for a panic.

When Shunsui fought him,

We almost caught him.

Shunsui saved the day.

Hurray!"

He held up his hands. "Whoa! Shunsui didn't fight Aizen and he sure as hell didn't save the day. There's no honor in taking credit for something he didn't do. Why did you write such a blatant…"

"Lie?" she finished. "He caught me while I was writing that one. I had to end it that way."

Hisagi laughed heartily.

"To be honest though, Hisagi…"

"Shuuhei."

"Shuuhei," she corrected herself, "Captain Kyouraku is a good guy underneath that crude exterior. I might be able to squeeze out five pages of heroism if I try really hard. The problem is he's a busybody. He's always trying to fix my perceived problems. I say 'perceived' because to me, they are not problems at all. I'm a bit of a loner, Shuuhei, and I tend to like it that way. I don't let many people in, so I'm really surprised that I am as comfortable with you as I am."

"I know what you mean, Nanao. I have to admit, I thought this date would bomb, but I've really enjoyed myself, even with the rocky start. I wouldn't mind if we did this again sometime," he took a quick look at the floor, then back to her. "That is, assuming you would want to." His cheeks pinked up for what seemed like the millionth time that evening.

She paused for a second, glancing sideways at her escort, "I think I'd like that."

Hisagi's smile lit up the room. Taking the paper in his lap, he unfolded it and held it up for her to see. She gasped as she saw the skillfully crafted mirror image swans touching foreheads to form a heart surrounded by outlines of two large trees with branches that overhung in the middle, echoing the heart shape. Pointing to the swans, he asked, "You. Me. Maybe?"

She looked away, embarrassed under his gaze, yet feeling warm from her head to her toes. Hisagi too felt the awkward moment as it passed between them. I just screwed everything up with that boner move. Damn! "Ahem," he cleared his throat and folded the paper back up. With a quick flick of his wrist, he tossed it to the floor with the rest of the scraps.

But before it could hit the floor, Nanao grabbed the paper out of the air. She scolded, "I wanted a snowflake. That is so not a snowflake!" She carefully placed the swan vignette next to the torn napkin snowflake from earlier. "I'll have to teach you what a snowflake looks like. When a woman wants a snowflake, she should get a snowflake. Not swans. Swans are for lovers, so I'll have to save this. By the way, you still have to pick up my floor."

"Kyouraku was right. You are bossy," he said lightly, both relieved and pleased by what she had said.

"Do I have to bring out the Dragon Queen to get you to clean up my floor?"

"Only if that's the name of a vacuum cleaner," he joked.

Nanao smiled, but then became so still that all he could do was watch her curiously. Her brows furrowing, she looked at him and said, "Shuuhei, there's something we need to talk about."

Suddenly disheartened, he again joked, this time to cover his nervousness, "What is it, Nanao? You can tell me anything. Are you married? Pregnant? Gay? Happy? Sad? A Ryoka in disguise? Addicted to paperwork? We can get you help."

"You're an idiot."

"I think that's a well-established fact by your standards. I am a man, after all. You were saying?"

"At least, you acknowledge the truth. Speaking of another idiot of a man, with this little date of ours, if Captain Kyouraku thinks that his plan worked, I'll never hear the end of it. He thinks I can't do without him to order me around, so I'd like to teach him a little lesson. Are you game?"

"A lesson, huh? After every thing he's put me through over the last few days – high heels, makeup, sumo wrestling, floods, out right theft, a date with a vacuum cleaner, I mean, the Dragon Queen," she smacked him lightly on the arm as he ducked, "…you bet I'm game."

"Shall we shake on it?" she asked, holding out her right hand.

Shuuhei took her hand and shook it lightly. Nanao tried to retrieve her hand from his grasp, but he suddenly tightened it. Pulling her towards him, he purred, "I prefer to seal things with a kiss," and he did, quickly, yet meaning business.

Recovering from her shock and her second kiss of the evening, Nanao laughed, "I hope you didn't seal your deal with Captain Kyouraku that way. I'd hate to think that I'll be kissing lips that kissed his."

"No," said Shuuhei with a grin, "just a handshake. But I think I'm looking forward to sealing a lot more deals with you."

"Me too." The steel glint returned to her eyes. "Now, as for the captain's lesson, shall we discuss where to start on our walk?"

"I've got the champagne right here."

"First, you vacuum; then we walk."

"Slave driver."

A/N What do you think her poems mean - although none are very deep...or good, for that matter. lol I don't claim to be a good poet; therefore, by extension, neither is Nanao. She'll never win a poetry prize, but that won't stop her from stomping around a stanza in her bare iambs.