Chapter Ten: Saturday 14th November 1987, The Date pt. 2

"Empy!" She didn't have time for this. "Emp!"

Hisana had already tripped over the bowl of biscuits twice, scattering kibble halfway across the kitchen.

"Emperor!" She sorely wished he'd come in. Apart from anything else, it was far too cold for the back door to be open, and time was getting on.

"Oh, fudge," she muttered as she smudged her mascara, poking herself in the eye with the wand. She licked the tip of her little finger and did her best to remove the mistake. It probably didn't help that she was trying to do her make up in the reflection on the toaster.

"EMPERO-!"

A low, mournful meow from within the laundry basket interrupted her.

"Wh-? Have you even been out?" she huffed. It certainly didn't look like it, as she removed him from his makeshift bed of clothes, now coated with a layer of long, grey fluff. So much for his persistent yowling earlier.

She deposited the aging feline just outside the door, his piercing yellow eyes looking distinctly unimpressed as Hisana prevented his return into the warm. "Go on! Shoo! You can come back in in a minute." She watched as he slunk off sulkily into the darkness of the garden. "Such a grump," she muttered, shaking her head.

Alas, she didn't have time to dally about waiting for him to finish his business, and Hisana darted upstairs to check her appearance in the full length mirror. She'd ditched the bra and couldn't help but think that maybe she was risking her reputation as she pressed lips stained deep red down on a small piece of tissue. It was this or visible straps. At least no one in Ginza was going to recognise her. She had ultimately settled on leaving her hair loose; it's comforting weight about her neck a sort of protective barrier to others' scrutiny.

She'd be alright as long as she didn't bend forwards. Not that he would be trying to cop an eyeful by looking down her top. Not that there was anything to see even if he did.

Hisana sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. It wasn't so much second guessing her appearance as twenty-second guessing at this point. She glanced at the clock. She looked at her other outfits. Back at the clock. The clothes. The clock.

If she was quick, she could just about-.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the most godawful noise. It was like a giant, angry wasp crossed with a fighter jet backfiring from down the end of the street. It grew louder and louder until it growled to a halt, seemingly as quickly as it had appeared.

"What on..?" Hisana peered out from behind a crack in the curtains. Some flash poser in a fancy car, apparently.

She returned to the pile of dresses on the bed, before the thought suddenly struck her. She glanced at the clock, before inching cautiously back to the window.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

Sure enough, leaning against the car and lighting a cigarette, looking for all the world like a movie star, was Kuchiki Byakuya.

Hisana froze in her panic. He was early. Of course he was. This was not a man who was late. For anything. Ever.

"Shit." With one final coat of lipstick, she rushed out of the bedroom and nearly fell down the stairs in her haste. Grabbing her shoes, she did her best to put them on as she hopped to the back door.

"MĀU! Māu, get back in here!" Where in the blazes had the cat gone? "EMPEROR!" Well, if he didn't come back in now he would have to stay outside; she had a date.

With Kuchiki Byakuya.

And he was here.

Waiting.

For her.

To take out to dinner.

As a date.

A romantic interest.

How was this even happening?

She needed to pee.

She probably had lipstick on her teeth.

Her stomach sounded like a dying whale trapped in a sewer.

The cat was rubbing fur all over her dre… The cat!

"Get off! Shoo!" She nudged him away with her foot. "Don't look at me like that, this is important!" How was it possible for something so floofy to look so contemptuous? Hisana almost felt guilty. Almost. "Look, if this goes well, I'll buy you that fancy-ass cat tree, alright?" She frowned before correcting herself, "Actually, if it goes well, I'll make him buy you the fancy-ass cat tree. So be nice."

At least trying to reason with the unreasonable was distracting her from her impending plight, which in itself reminded her…

What were they even going to talk about?

Three sharp raps at the front door and she felt like hyperventilating.

Was this a good time for a nervous breakdown?

This seemed like a perfect time for a nervous breakdown.

Kuchiki Byakuya didn't make a habit of smoking; to the contrary, he hated it, but he was early and the half-empty packet of Mevius was there, thanks to his Grandfather. It wasn't like he nervous and fidgety and needed to give his hands something to do. And it most certainly had nothing to do with Shiba Kaien once having mentioned that girls found it sexy. (Although, maybe there was something in it; Shiba men did have an uncanny talent of marrying women well above their league, after all.)

He checked his watch, barely making out the hands from the dimly lit streetlight. He'd opted for the vintage Patek Philippe he'd bought on the same trip as his whimsical V8 Vantage Zagato purchase. He could say with utmost certainty that he could have bought half of this entire Karakura street for less money. Perhaps he should. Sell the houses on before the inevitable market crash. He wondered how many apartments were empty in the blocks a few hundred yards down the road.

A couple of young lads, no older than twelve or thirteen, came bounding out from a few doors down, screeching about Ferraris. They were followed by a portly, middle-aged man, equally excited and clutching desperately onto a camera. Just what kind of neighbourhood was this, exactly?

He paid them no heed other than to pointedly ignore them as the father asked if he was lost. This was before promptly trying to interrogate him about the car whilst sneaking a few photos. It might have even worked if Byakuya was both blind to the flash and too deaf to hear the loud click of the shutter.

Byakuya checked his watch again. Two minutes to go. One final drag of the cigarette and he flicked it to the ground, stubbing out the butt with an immaculately polished brogue of the finest Spanish leather.

Pulling down his cuffs and straightening his dinner jacket, he left the three gushing over the F40, silently praying that they didn't actually drool on the paintwork.

Thankfully, the darkness shielded him from the worst of the more rundown aspects of the Saito residence, but he did have a passing moment of alarm when he saw the front door up close under the porch light. How safe was this side of Karakura? It wouldn't take much to break the door down. In fact, judging by the chipped paint, it seemed that someone had already tried.

He pressed the button of the doorbell.

Nothing.

He pressed harder.

Frowning, he tried forcibly pushing the button in quick succession before exhaling sharply through his nose and mentally declaring it unfit for purpose.

And so Byakuya turned his hand to the knocker, but not before gingerly wrapping his fingers in the handkerchief from his midnight blue, velvet dinner jacket pocket. At least the local spiders had found a good use for this otherwise defunct door.

Only now did it occur to him that maybe, just maybe, he was trying a little too hard to impress someone who was clearly from the wrong side of the tracks. It wouldn't be the first time he'd fallen prey to a pretty face, although those dalliances had rather more to do with letting off steam than genuine interest.

All creeping doubts were instantly replaced, however, with the immediate desire to cancel all plans for the evening as Hisana opened the door. Alas, he was the perfect gentleman, and so greeted her the only way he knew how, brusquely asking, "Are you ready?"

Maybe 'perfect' wasn't quite the right word, but he told himself it was a whole lot better than what he really wanted to do, which almost certainly would not be appropriate in front of their growing audience.

Byakuya did manage to redeem himself somewhat as he settled on resting a gentle kiss to Hisana's cheek, murmuring softly into her ear, "You look stunning."

Seeing her peer up at him shyly through her long fringe wasn't doing much to help his self-control. Nor was the fact that, from this angle, he could almost see straight down the top of her dress. The outstanding perks of a height difference, he thought slyly, as she busied herself donning her coat and locking the door.

Never one to waste an opportunity, Byakuya indulged himself in Hisana's slender, braless form every second her attention was elsewhere. Ahh, yes. Truly, the perks are outstanding.

Oh no. Old Mrs Iba had joined the small group congregating out on the street. That meant two things. One: she could stare disapprovingly at Hisana's outfit, and Two: she would be reporting back to Unohana Retsu.

"Oi!" she barked as Byakuya guided Hisana towards the passenger side of the car, hand resting on the small of her back.

Uh oh. Better make that three.

"You see my girl back safe and sound, you 'ear me?" Byakuya looked somewhat stunned as she poked him hard in the chest. More shocking still was when she turned to Hisana, patted her on the cheek and said, "You look lovely, dear. Very pretty."

Mrs Iba returned to scowling darkly at Byakuya before directing everyone to stop causing a ruckus and go back home. Needless to say, everyone instantly complied.

"What… just happened?"

Hisana shrugged sheepishly. "Welcome to Karakura. The dodgy bit."

"I see." Byakuya's nonplussed tone suggested that he very much didn't see, actually, but was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

He was, of course, being the perfect gentleman with just how carefully he was helping her into the car; the bucket seats were rather lower down than she was accustomed to. It also felt alien, the passenger seat being on the right-hand side.

As for all of the commotion surrounding the vehicle, she couldn't see what the fuss was about. Upon closer inspection, it was hardly any different to Rukia's Diahatsu Mira. They were both the same cherry red, they both had four wheels, and they were both far too small for Renji to fit in. If anything, Rukia'scar was more comfortable. At the very least it had carpet and actual door handles.

One thing very much in its favour, however, was that it still possessed that lingering new car smell and that was something even she could appreciate. In fact, she was just about to comment on it as Byakuya got in his own side when she was overcome with just how impossibly beautiful he was and her brain turned to mush and forgot what words were.

She didn't know if she could do this. Date someone so much prettier. Renji was hot as hell and sexy as sin, but Rukia was definitely the prettiest one in their relationship. Of course, Hisana was firmly of the opinion that Rukia had also been dealt more than her fair share of sexiness, including all of her own.

She considered hotfooting it back to the house, locking the door and refusing to leave ever again from the shame.

And then he smiled at her.

Well, he didn't smile at her, exactly. Kuchiki Byakuya didn't smile. It was a kind of smouldering smirk with the faintest upturn of the corner of his lips.

She hadn't consumed nearly enough whisky to contend with this.

All she could do was stare, flustered, at the black silk draped over her knees, pray that he took pity on her and didn't expect much in the way of talk.

She could feel his eyes on her and she huddled further into her oversized faux fur coat.

"Don't worry; the car warms up quickly."

Biting her lip, Hisana nodded silently as she tucked her hair behind her ear. The car wouldn't be the only one if he kept looking at her like that. Of all of the crazy, unbelievable things to have ever happened, Kuchiki Byakuya taking an interest in her most definitely took the biscuit and approximately ninety percent of her vocabulary.

It turned out that Hisana needn't have worried too much about not knowing what to say- the engine was simply too loud to even contemplate striking up conversation, and it only got louder as they reached the expressway. What she hadn't considered prior to sitting in the passenger seat, however, was the possibility of Kuchiki Byakuya having attended the same driving school as her sister. Namely the school of Drive-It-Like-You-Stole-It.

Her eyes widened in no small amount of alarm when she noticed the speedometer dial was hovering just under 160. Just how fast did this thing go, exactly?

Thankfully, his speed rapidly reduced as traffic ahead came into sight. She exhaled slowly before glaring at him. He knew damn well what he was doing. He was smirking, the git.

It was only upon arriving at their destination, and under the bright lights of the Ginza 4 Chome parking lot, that Hisana noticed the silver prancing horse below those not insignificant letters. Ferrari.

She should have known.

If Byakuya was concerned by the fact that he had seemingly abandoned the car, taking over three spaces doing so, he didn't show it. Hisana was unsure if this was normal for him because he was a terrible driver, or if the thought of being restricted by the rules that applied to everyone else simply didn't occur to him.

She swore that if she survived the evening, Emperor Māu was most definitely going to be gifted the most luxurious, bespoke cat tree to have ever existed and Kuchiki Byakuya was most definitely going to be the one paying for it.

She also swore that she was never going to introduce him to her sister out of fear for the safety of the general populous.

It was entirely possible that Byakuya had got a little too excited in the heat of the moment and may have exercised the accelerator just a little too much. It wasn't that he was showing off, it was just that he was… testing boundaries.

Turns out he wasn't the only one.

Unsure quite how he had missed it previously, he was gifted with rather more of Hisana's left leg than expected as she got out of the car. Black silk, dress straps that threatened to snap at any second, stilettos and stockings, and a thigh-high slit. Textbook temptress. And yet, somehow, she still looked perfectly elegant. Classy. Perhaps he really should have cancelled dinner and skipped straight to dessert.

He wondered if she had any idea just how beautiful she actually was. He strongly suspected she didn't. A crying shame to be sure, but perhaps that was part of the appeal. She certainly had this delicate air of vulnerability about her that was hard to ignore. Yamato nadeshiko. The feminine ideal. An entirely romantic notion, of course. Utterly poetical. In fact…

He wondered if she liked poetry.

Sukiyabashi Jiro was not what Hisana had expected- not that she'd had any inkling of what to expect in the first place. To begin with, it was not visible at street level and she would never have found it on her own. Secondly, it was tiny- there were no more than ten seats along the counter and six of them were already taken.

Byakuya had explained on the short walk from the parking lot that they served a set menu, and that suited Hisana just fine. She was indecisive at the best of times, and with her nerves shot, the thought of her choosing from a menu was a recipe for disaster in itself. It also saved her from worrying about the cost. Clearly, there was nothing that he couldn't afford, but she knew that he was about to spend an eye-watering amount of money and frankly she could do without knowing just how much that was.

She was pleased to note that the general air was much more relaxed than she had perhaps anticipated, although little chatter filled the air, owing to its traditional Edo market dining-style roots. As far as she could tell, this meant 'shove it in your face and go', but perhaps she was missing some of the more nuanced details in Byakuya's loquacious descriptions.

What she did know for certain was that this was not like any dining experience she had ever had before. There were instructions on how to pick up and eat your sushi. Each individual piece was prepared and served one at a time. The chefs advised you when best to cleanse the palate with a pinch of pickled ginger or have a mouthful of hot, green tea between servings. They guided you through every single bite and were so attentive she nearly forgot who her dining partner was.

She caught him watching her just as she was about to stuff a large piece of chutoro sashimi in her mouth. "What?" He was smirking at her again.

"Nothing." He shared a look with the head chef who nodded, beaming back at him. "Carry on."

"What?!" Suddenly self-conscious, Hisana finished her chutoro with her hand covering her face. "I'm hungry," she mumbled defensively. It was hardly surprising; she hadn't eaten since Thursday.

"I can see that." Byakuya's face remained expressionless as she glowered at him.

Hisana turned to the chef who was adding a roll of ikura to her plate and said, "D'you know, he called me 'fat' the other day."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did," Hisana said through a mouthful of caviar. She turned back to the chef, "He said 'You're too heavy.'."

Byakuya raised a finger as he began to explain, "Now, I did say tha-." He stopped short as he looked down at his empty plate. Slowly, he looked to Hisana, hands clapped tightly over her mouth as she blinked innocently at him. He looked back at his plate, and then finally at the chefs behind the counter. "Did you see that?"

All three were doing their best to remain professional, but there was no hiding the shaking of their shoulders as they tried not to laugh.

He stared at Hisana, shaking his head as her stifled giggles turned into snorts. "You're a menace," he muttered before allowing his lopsided grin to breakthrough.

The night was still young by the time the pair left Sukiyabashi Jiro, and Byakuya was in no hurry for it to end, and so, perhaps foolishly, he suggested a small cocktail bar just around the corner. The bar itself was barely bigger than the sushi place, and was ideal for grabbing a couple of quiet drinks to round the night off.

What he didn't fully factor in was the fact that he was about to bring an extraordinarily attractive young lady into a place seldom frequented by women and almost certainly filled with well-to-do, often power-hungry men very much stuck in their ways, and very much of the opinion that a woman's domain was in the home. Or, worse still, that she was fair game.

He realised his error the second they crossed the threshold and an uneasy hush descended across the room.

Noticing the twinkle in Hisana's eyes dim, Byakuya murmured quietly to her, "We can go somewhere more… inviting."

She considered it for a couple of seconds before her expression morphed into something feistier, something more defiant and the silent agreement was reached between the two. Byakuya's arrogant smirk briefly returned before he faced the room once more, as haughty and imperious as ever, and led Hisana to the bar.

Hisana was just checking the wine list when she overheard the party in the corner making some rather lascivious comments about her backside. One of them sidled up beside her and called across to the bartender for some fruity concoction for "the lady". Another demanded champagne.

A further four drinks were added to the collection before Byakuya's double neat single malt Yamazaki made it anywhere near a tumbler.

"Make that two."

Byakuya leant into her ear and whispered, "It's neat."

"I know," she replied chirpily.

"That means there's no ice."

Hisana raised an eyebrow at him. "I know."

The bartender paused as he looked hesitantly between the two.

For the first time ever, Byakuya publicly conceded defeat as he repeated Hisana's words airily to the server, "Make that two."

There was a glint in Hisana's eye that both petrified him and turned him on immensely. He'd seen a similar glint roughly this time last week, and that had worked out rather well for him, so he could probably be excused for getting his hopes up.

That said, nothing could have prepared him for just how she raised her glass and inhaled the rich, subtly spiced aroma, her eyes on his all the while.

"To fine dining and good company, Kuchiki-sama."

Byakuya raised his own glass to hers. "Indeed."

He was just about to take a sip when his eyes fell to deep red pressed against glass crystal, the recently reapplied lipstick leaving its mark; down the graceful curve of her neck as she swallowed slowly, eyes closed, savouring the taste and textures just as he taught her; across the paleness of her skin; lingering at the black silk draped upon soft swell of her breasts; and down the length of her bare arm before finishing at those dainty fingers as they placed the empty tumbler back on the counter.

He wasn't the only one transfixed, but it was him, and only him, she sought when her eyelids fluttered open. He had to admit that she was coping valiantly with the burn, although the stray tear gave the game away.

He gestured to the bartender, "Another. No, wait." He pulled his wallet out from inside his jacket, and from that a number of notes. "We'll take the bottle." He spied an empty table at the back. "And some water."

"I'll bring it over right away, Sir."

Byakuya ushered Hisana over to the table as quickly as being dignified would allow, which roughly coincided with the amount of time Hisana had left before she could maintain the façade no longer.

"Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, but… what was that?"

She looked up at him dolefully. "Painful," she whispered hoarsely.

He glanced over to the accumulation of drinks on the counter. "Did you really just down a double shot of whisky to spite them?"

She looked utterly pitiful and regretful of her life choices as she mumbled, "It's what Rukia would do."

"Rukia? Your sister?" Byakuya stared at her blankly.

"Oh, shut up. I've got a family reputation to uphold."

"I see." He sipped at his own drink. "Tell me, are there any more nuggets of wisdom handed down through the family? Because that was hot."

She pursed her lips, thinking. "We could make out," she suggested nonchalantly.

Byakuya's gaze wandered down to the slit in her dress. "We could do that."

Hisana sat up straight, declaring, "We should totally do that."

Two hours and several rounds of increasingly terrible haiku later, as they stumbled out onto the street, Byakuya was still trying to explain how unlike Rukia's shitty Diahatsu Mira the F40 was.

"Look, look! I'll show you. Come o-. Wait." He suddenly stopped. "Where did I park the car?"

Hisana's arm shot up in the arm as she shouted, "Number 4!"

He looked at her in disbelief. "Don't be ridiculous. Why would I park it in 4? I hate the number four."

"Whaaa? How can you hate a number?"

"It's too square and reminds me of golf."

Hisana doubled over, blowing a raspberry and pointing an accusatory finger at him, "You're square. And I bet you play golf."

"Well, now I'm just offended. And I only play it because I have to." he said indignantly.

Hisana just cackled at him before noticing, and running over to, the window of a dancewear boutique.

"Seriously though, was it 2 or 3 Chome?" he muttered to himself. Oh well. It didn't matter. They were practically next to one another.

Grabbing hold of Hisana's hand, he dragged her away from ballet shop window, where she was staring wistfully at a glittering outfit perfect for the Sugarplum Fairy, and route marched her down Chuo-dori Street towards the multi-storey car parks.

"It's not here." If Byakuya was alarmed, he was doing a very good job of hiding it. If anything, he was just confused. "How is it not here? I definitely parked it here."

Hisana was fairly certain he hadn't, but she was getting a bit too cold for her liking and was keen to get into anywhere with some heating. Even if it was a police station. "Perhaps someone's stolen it."

Byakuya stared at her and frowned. "No, I… It… Someone's stolen it."

"That's what I said!"

"Someone should alert the authorities at once," he said solemnly. "You should go."

"Oh, what?!" she huffed. "Why me?"

"Someone has to stay here in case they bring it back!" he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Hisana scrunched up her face at him. "I don't know where the police station is!"

"Fine. I'll go. You. Stay here."

Hisana pouted at him as he marched away. "Wait!"

He turned quickly, "Did you find it?!"

"What? No, I'm coming with you."

Byakuya looked at her, confused. "But what if someone brings it back?"

She craned her neck looking up at him. "It's a Ferrari. Why would they bring back a Ferrari?"

"That's… You. Come with me."

"I want a piggy-back, though."

He raised his eyebrows at her. "What?"

She gave him her best puppy-dog eyes as she whined, "My feet hurt and I'm cold and I want a piggy-back."

"… Fine."

Hisana squealed as she scrambled quickly onto his back. "Onwards, noble steed!"

"I will drop you," he threatened, securely holding her in place all the same.

They'd just turned round the corner from the Ginza 2 Chome car park when Byakuya nearly dropped Hisana as she shrieked excitedly right next to his ear. In fact, he would have done so on purpose if she hadn't already jumped down and run ahead.

"OHMYGODDOYOUTHINKTHEY'VEGOTANYPIELEFT?"

He was sure there were words in there, but it was hard to tell, especially with all of the arm flapping. "What?"

"Apple pie! Do you think they've got any left?"

A chill ran down his spine as he looked to where she was pointing. "No."

"I'm going in there."

He grasped her hand before she could go anywhere. He knew of a great number of fancy patisseries and cafés within the area and he would take her to all of them, but he was not going in there.

"But I'm hungry." Hisana scuffed her toe to the ground, as she pouted, bottom lip quivering. And then she gave him that watery, doe-eyed look as she whimpered imploringly at him. "Please?"

She should be locked up as an international security risk.

His jaw muscles clenched.

"Pretty please," she begged in a tiny voice.

He pinched the bridge of his nose despairingly.

He sighed.

"… Fine."

"EPIC!"

He felt moderately better for the downturn his life was about to take when she pulled him in for a quick kiss before launching off into McDonald's.

By the time Byakuya eventually caught up with her (there were visible fingerprints on the door handle so it took a while), Hisana had emptied the contents of her small clutch bag onto the brightly lit counter. She was trying to work out just how much money she had, which was slightly problematic because not only had she already skimped out of all mathematical prowess in the genetics lottery, but she was also ever so slightly tipsy. And now she was running out of fingers.

"Do you have a Gringo?"

The bewildered lad behind the counter nodded, seemingly unsure of whether to reach for whatever the hell a Gringo was or the panic button. Byakuya could sympathise.

"Did you want anything?"

Byakuya just stared at her.

"Pfft. I bet you've never even been in a McDonald's before," she scoffed at him. She did a double-take at his face. "You're kidding. You've never..?"

Hisana looked at the server. "How much for one of everything?"

It had been quiet night, save for a minor scuffle outside one of the trendier bars in Chuo City, and by two o'clock, Chief Inspector Shiba Kaien and Sergeant Kotsubaki Sentarō were both desperately bored and in need of a pick-me-up.

"It's your turn," Kaien informed his subordinate as he pushed his way through the glass door.

"WHAT?! I bought breakfast the other week! It's YOUR turn!"

"That was my birthday. That doesn't count. You're paying." Kaien didn't always bully his underlings, but when he did, he did it for breakfast.

Sentarō grumbled at him, "Do I look like Kotetsu to you?"

"No. She's much better looking. Come on, cough up." Kaien shoved him towards the counter.

A raucous laugh suddenly caught his attention. Normally, the place was dead as a doornail at this hour, but… "Kuchiki?"

He couldn't believe his eyes. There, at the middle table of McDonald's, sat Kuchiki Byakuya in one of his finest three-piece suits, evidently drunk and surrounded by Happy Meal boxes, wrappers and small plastic figurines from the children's show Soul Candy. He was accompanied by a very pretty date who looked… strangely familiar.

"Do I know you?"

She turned her head and, upon seeing the uniform, bolted upright from the seat with her hands in the air. "I didn't do it!"

Kuchiki creased up sniggering.

Kaien had never even seen him smile before, never mind laugh.

Frankly, it was disturbing and he never wanted to see it again.

"Shut up, Rich Boy!" She threw a fry at him. "You have no idea how many times I got in trouble for something my sister did. We can't all buy our way out of the clink."

"Maybe if you spent less time admiring small-time mobster pandas and more time following the shining example of the Wakame Ambassador, you wouldn't have to."

She grabbed one of the small plastic toys from the table, "How dare you speak about Gringo like that? He's adorable." She turned to Kaien. "Can't you arrest him?"

Few things would have given him more pleasure.

"Me? The only criminal here is you! For making me eat this… this… What even is this? Floor scrapings?" Byakuya pointed to one of the partly-eaten meals. "Shiba. Shiba. Shiba, look at this. Look at this. They call this a 'cheeseburger', right? A burger! Shiba, they killed a cow for this!"

Kaien felt like he was on a bad trip.

"Well, I'll eat it if you don't want it." The tiny woman made to grab at the discarded cheeseburger only for Kuchiki to pull it out of her reach.

"You most certainly will not. This is mine."

There it was. That snotty little brat Kaien could actually recognise. Miyako was never going to believe him. "… Right… well, err, have a nice… date? We'll just, we'll just leave… you to it." Kaien started to back away slowly.

"NO!" Kuchiki's date slammed her hands down onto the table.

She really did remind him of someone and he just couldn't quite place it.

She hissed at Kuchiki, "What about the car?"

"Hmm? What car?"

"The car, you dummy. The one that was nicked."

"Oh." Initially confused, Kuchiki suddenly paled. "Oh. Yes, good shout." He looked around before realising there was a police officer standing right in front of him. "Ahem, excuse me, Officer? Yes, I'd like to report the theft of a motor vehicle."

They had to be winding him up. Kaien almost wished he was back on desk duty.

"Well?" Kuchiki demanded. "Why aren't you writing this down?"

Kaien rolled his eyes as he pulled his notebook from his pocket.

Even drunk, the man was insufferable.