She wasn't wearing anything. That was her first thought when she woke up, no scratch that she still had her underwear on. Now she just had to figure out how she ended up, alone mind you, in someone else's bed. Ichigo could barely remember last night, just a lot of meaningless giggling about random men and something that may have been a dare came to mind. Yawning she cracked open a honey-brown eye, not wanting to move due to being completely comfy. The sight that greeted her was the back of a canvas and an art easel, meaning this was Grimmjow's bed. 'Thank fuck it's his bed and not a strangers,' she thought, a sigh of relief escaping her lips, alerting the other to her awareness.

"Morning," Grimm muttered, placing a mug of coffee before the bed. Grasping the mug she drank it quickly, not caring when the bitter liquid burnt her tongue. If didn't have a cup after waking she couldn't function properly.

"Who paints this early in the morning?" Ichigo asked, glancing round the room and noting all the curtains were drawn, the room lit by candle light, casting a warm glow over everything. Grimmjow laughed, the sound foreign to her, it wasn't his normal overly snide snicker. This sounded genuine and warm, she couldn't help but smile a little.

"Yeah, but 'm not normal. Should know that by now. I watched titanic recently, that line 'draw me like on of your French girls' or whatever the fuck it is has been stuck in my head. I've wanted to paint someone in that pose for a while but it's rather hard to find a girl that doesn't mind stripping in front of a guy and laying naked on a couch for hours. Most expect sexual favours and that's just not gonna happen. I took advantage of the fact that ya were asleep, hope ya don't mind." Ichigo snorted at him, rolling her eyes, he should have just asked her to pose for it. He couldn't see the eye roll but Grimmjow definitely heard her snort, he took that to mean she didn't give a flying fuck about hat he did.

"Uhh about last night," she muttered, pausing as she tried to figure out how to word the question she was going to ask. It was just too embarrassing to just ask him outright if they had sex, she might not care about being naked in front of someone but sex was a whole other ball park.

"We didn't fuck if that's what yer trying to ask." Her face went scarlet eyes wide as Grimmjow easily answered the question she was struggling to even phrase. He snickered when he saw how red her face was, it was amusing to see Silence blush over something so trivial.

"Just one hot and heavy make out session. Ya undressed yerself, before shoving me on the bed and saying good pillows don't move." With a groan she flopped back down onto the bed, covering her face with her hands, wishing the bed would swallow her whole. How could she say something like that to him.

"Just shoot me now and put me out of my misery," Silence groaned. Grimmjow could only laugh, moving to stand by the bed. He'd never seen her so lively before, it made him wonder why she was so cold all the time.

"It's not that bad," he muttered sitting on the end of his bed. Ichigo kicked out at him muttering for him to shut up and let her die in peace, moving her hands long enough to pull the covers over her head. He stood up, returning to the painting and waiting to see if she would remove the covers.

"Whose gonna model for me if ya die, huh?" He asked, hoping that would capture her attention. She grunted, and rolled over just her eyes visible in the mass of blankets, narrowed slits and fiery. The phrase if looks could kill came to mind when she pinned those dark angry eyes on him. Silence was not happy.

"Is that all I am to you, a model?" She asked, growling lowly. If that was all then she wasn't coming back, which she thought was ridiculous because that was their relationship. Model and painter. Ichigo didn't want anything else, she didn't need anyone but Shiro.

"Nah precious yer my muse, my beautiful firecracker of a muse and I couldn't ask for someone better." Hopefully that would please her because he meant every word he said. Silence was important to him, it seemed that his original fascination with her went from a subject matter to someone he admired and possibly held affections for. She had changed him, or at least when she was around he was better, more open. Before there were days, weeks and months when he refused to talk or even open his door for Nnoitra. If Nnoi couldn't pick looks he'd have probably died from starvation. Grimmjow would just paint and nothing else. It took tricks and violence to get him to leave the apartment, since he'd met Silence he'd started to willingly go outside again. Granted he didn't bother if she wasn't involved but at least now he opened the door when Nnoitra stopped by.

"Fuck off, I'm not even pretty. I still can't figure out why you even bothered talking to me," she muttered, rolling over once more. There was nothing about special about her. Shiro was the special one.

"Have more confidence in yerself precious. Come and have a look at this painting, this is how people see ya." That piqued her interest, enough to get her to turn around, eyes visible once more. That seemed to be as good as he was going to get. With a sigh he picked up the painting and moved the easel out of the way, flipping the canvas round to show her. It wasn't what Ichigo was expecting, she was thinking of the pose from titanic but this was different, this was beautiful. The girl was sitting sheets wrapped up in her legs, sitting sort of side on and looking over her shoulder. Long orange hair pulled up into a messy bun, eyes half mast, lips bruised from kisses. This got her to sit up. That couldn't be her.

"This is how I see ya, a beautiful young woman," he murmured, placing the canvas back on the easel carefully not to smudge the paint. She looked down at her hands, her knuckles covered in bruises and callouses, worn and rough. A boxers hands. Not the hands of a young woman.

"What happened last night, it won't happen again. I have to go." And there was that wall of ice once again reappearing. Grimmjow watched as she retreated in on herself, cutting off the world like when he had first met her.

"I have to go."

He looked like shit, sitting in the dark and painting by the light of one candle. It was demonic, the only thing visible amongst the black were a pair of eyes.

"Ya okay Grimmy?" Nnoitra asked, unable to stop staring at the canvas. It was like the eyes were following his movement, creeped him out. The blue haired man didn't answer to involved in what he was doing to notice he even had company. With a roll of his eye he sat down on the bed, glad he couldn't see the image on the canvas anymore. He hated it when Grimm got like this, the man was already a pain to deal with but this meant hours of sitting in silence and he couldn't stand it, drove him nuts. Eventually he stopped, dumping his brushes and palette in the bathtub. Nnoitra was asleep on his bed, he hadn't even noticed the lanky mans arrival. Kicking the bed the man jumped, not aware of what was happening and managing to slap himself as he flailed. He glared at Grimmjow guessing he was the cause of it all and scowled.

"I think I love her."