.
No vacancy
.
The Skype screen is open for exactly two seconds before Tatsuki scowls. "For god's sake, Ichigo."
"It's fine."
"It's not," Tatsuki seethes, "you're an idiot."
"I can write with one eye." It isn't even that bad. A little purple, and still swelling sure, but the cold cheese over his eye a few days ago had helped. Besides, it's not like it's his first time dealing with a shiner, it'll be another week, tops, and he'll be as good as new.
"That's not the point, and you know it." She grimaces. "Can't you cover it?"
"I had it covered earlier." But then the cheese had gotten warm and he'd shoved it in the fridge again. "Besides, I was finishing off the chapter and I didn't want to use speech to text." Which is always easier except, "I got a new neighbor."
At that Tatsuki smirks. "Afraid to give them the wrong impression?"
"I've already scared off two in the past six months," he reminds. They'd have gotten along fine if they minded their own business. So, he's up at odd hours talking to himself and pacing, it's not like that's a crime, as a writer it's practically part of the routine. "Urahara's gonna make me pay a penalty if I scare this one off."
"Well, maybe if you weren't such a delinquent with your gross eye."
"She saw my gross eye and didn't care," he retorts.
Tatsuki raises a brow. "So…?"
"The eye wasn't the problem with the last two, and you know it."
"Right…right, the whole narrating-your-murders thing." Which again, they wouldn't have known about had they kept their ears off his front door. "For such a solid building, the acoustics are terrible," and she'd be apologetic about vetoing all the other options he'd had before moving here, but Tatsuki isn't the kind of person to apologize for anything. "Though, again, the gross eye does not help."
"It wasn't my fault."
"Did you, or did you not get in the ring of your own volition? And don't even think about lying to me."
"I was frustrated," he defends which only makes her roll her eyes.
"Then pulp a punching bag," she retorts, "I'll even get you one for home so you don't keep going to that shitty gym." Not like that'll make the 'noise' complaints go away. They'll probably get worse, it'll sound like he's actually killing someone.
Anyway. "The gym isn't shitty. Grimmjow's just a dick."
She grumbles something mutinous under her breath. "Whatever. Did getting your lights knocked out help with the writer's block?"
"Who said I got knocked out?"
"Did the doctor say you needed an eyepatch, yes or no?"
"No, and you're worse than Yuzu." He pauses. "Also, it was a draw, for your information."
"Kurosaki, I swear to God, I will fly over there and sit on you until this book is written," and since she's been responsible for the first three of his books being completed at all, Ichigo doesn't doubt it. It's why he was insistent that after he got the book deal that Tatsuki would be his editor. Not only is she liberal with a red pen, but she'll also happily threaten him into reaching his deadlines – it's been an effective relationship.
"I'm fine, by the way."
Through the screen, she crosses her arms and quirks a brow, all too used to his crappy attempts at diversion. "How many bodies did you drop this time?"
Ichigo thinks about not answering, but he's already moving the file into an email and she'll find out anyway, "Two, but they weren't important."
"Of course not," she grumbles, her focus shifting as her mailbox makes a whoosh noise. From her screen, he hears a few clicks as she navigates on her laptop before she's groaning. "Really, in a sewer? You dropped a body in a sewer?"
"No one would look for it there," he retorts.
"That's even grosser than the eye."
He snorts and is about to tell her all the ways in which – gross or not, a sewer makes perfect sense – when there's a knock at his door.
"The hell," he mutters and doesn't think to excuse himself from the Skype session when he gets up.
Tatsuki's still looking for the other body he dropped and considering her response to the first one, she definitely isn't going to like what he did with the second.
Besides, it's five in the goddamn morning.
Who even –
He leaves the chain attached when he unlocks the door, and peers around it with a grunt, "What do you want?"
The woman from the elevator, 3A, the one who'd given him the cheese, is standing there with a jar of peanut butter in hand, and dressed in a brown onesie, the hood (made to look like a bunny head with a floppy ear) drooping on one side of her face while the other is haphazardly pulled back revealing a tangle of black hair.
Ichigo thinks he's about to be subjected to some ill-timed "friendly neighbor" meet-and-greet until she squints at him – bleary blue eyes and a slight scowl – and gets a face full of peanut butter – the label of a black cat stuck to the glass jar, staring at him judgementally.
"What the -"
"Can you open this?"
"It's five in the morning."
"Yeah, and I'm hungry. Can you open this for me or not?"
When he's still too baffled to reply, she squints even more – trying to glare from over the bags under her eyes. "You still owe me for the cheese. I was gonna make that for dinner my first night here."
Opening and closing his mouth, Ichigo can't even refuse because – she's right, and she's probably why his eye doesn't look so shitty now – and he's maybe a bit sleep deprived too because that chapter took fucking forever – and he's already grumbling, "Fine, hold on."
Plus, he can't find a reason why he shouldn't anyway.
It's neighborly to open jars, right?
He shuts the door to take the chain off, and as he does, Tatsuki tells him, "I can't believe you put him in a woodchipper. A woodchipper, Ichigo," before she's quiet again, going through the rest of the document he'd sent her just as he opens the front door so he can get rid of 3A loitering behind it.
In a neighborly fashion, of course.
Which she might be taking a little too far given that she thrusts the peanut butter jar at his chest and wanders right in, heading straight for the kitchen where his laptop is propped up on the breakfast nook.
Most of the people in the building don't even look at him when he walks past, and beyond the nosy neighbors he's had pressing themselves up against his door to figure out what he's up to – no one's even seen the inside of his loft.
Ichigo knows the rumors, and he probably doesn't help them. Even barefoot, in a pair of sweatpants and a thin t-shirt, he's been told he's scary enough – the scowl is automatic and the eye – yeah, it doesn't help.
Still, 3A – tiny, chipper and apparently fearless – doesn't seem to care.
Or might be too tired and craving peanut butter to care.
"Isn't it a bit early for cravings?" he finds himself asking.
"Cravings don't operate under normal hours," 3A informs. "Besides, cracking open chests is hungry work."
"…that's an expression, right?"
She shrugs, and alright, he knows nothing about her. It might just be a sense of humor. It might even be an occupational thing. Doctors do that kind of stuff, right?
Ichigo shakes his head and follows, only frowning at the yellow cat as he darts inside.
The cat – Kon, Yuzu has taken to calling him – sneaks in whenever he can. Sometimes if Ichigo's feeling charitable he'll leave something out for him, but more often than not the creature is more than satisfied rubbing himself all over Ichigo's furniture.
Good thing he isn't allergic, he thinks with a roll of his eyes.
He doesn't know where the cat goes into the loft, but the lid of the peanut butter's too tight for him to turn so he grabs a dishtowel in the drawer beside the fridge just as she opens the door of it.
On seeming autopilot, she peers around, the blue-yellow glow of the fridge light illuminating her pale face before she liberates the cheese ball with the Chappy logo from the shelf, crowing, "Aha!" before she shuts it close.
From over her shoulder, he can see Tatsuki raising a brow from the screen, as his neighbor examines the state of the cheese ball which – alright fine, he might've had some. He's been holed up in the loft for days and he ran out of food that wasn't takeout around the same time he got the cheese ball ergo –
The now open jar of peanut butter is removed from his grasp with a mumbled "thanks" before she leaves, front door closing with a quiet creak in her wake.
Oh. Kay.
"Ichigo."
"Eh?"
Tatsuki frowns. "I think…I think she was covered in blood."
His brow raises. "What?"
"Under the onesie," Tatsuki verifies, gesturing at where the zipper of 3A's had been.
From the split level where his bedroom is, the yellow cat meows for attention, the underside of his tail flickering, the hairs looking damp and a little – He steps forward as if he could get a closer look from where he's standing except then he's stepping in something wet and sticky and red.
Oh.
Oh.
With a huff, Tatsuki muses, "Well, no wonder she's not scared of you."