Some of the ladies tried to stifle their giggles. Nanao. Momo. It was a valiant effort. Soi Fon and Honored Former President Unohana succeeded rather better. Others, like Rangiku, made no effort to stop their hearty guffaws. Yachiru was rolling on the floor. Nemu simply smiled and blushed, glad that she hadn't picked either of those two from Yachiru's list of subjugated men.
Ikkaku soldiered on, doing his best to be heard over the cacophony. "As I was saying, we'd be happy to be in your calendar, so long as we get final say on the pictures. And we need to take Yachiru back to Kansas right after."
Yumichika, meanwhile, had come to the sudden, unwelcome realization that he was having a bad hair day in front of people he knew (Rangiku) in addition to a room full of strangers. He was trying to fade into the wallpaper by the door.
Finally reaching a modicum of composure, Nanao pushed up her glasses and stepped forward to inspect the offering. "Not to say that your... beneficence... is unappreciated, but you're not exactly what we were looking for." She reached out her pen to probe a smear of lotion across Ikkaku's shoulder. It smeared more, and she nodded to herself. "Our project was intended for a more... mainstream audience."
"She means you two look stupid." Yachiru ceased her rolling to pipe up from the floor. She wasn't actually laughing anymore; she'd just been log-rolling across the conference room to bash into people's shins. Honored Former President Unohana's Honored Foot put an end to that.
That roused Yumichika from his sojourn with the wallpaper. He removed his sunglasses dramatically and brandished them at Nanao, who was (a) closest and (b) not the Hellbeast. "Excuse me? Let's see how fresh you look after a few days on the Road Trip From Hell! I haven't showered in over 48 hours and it's ALL HER FAULT." He had finally worked up the vitriol to brandish the sunglasses directly at Yachiru. Then, with only a slight tremor in his hand to show his hesitation, he tore off his hat and scarf all at once. His hair sprang into its ULTIMATE FINAL FORM. The afro's power level was well over NINE THOUSAND (or eight thousand, if you prefer reading to watching your DBZ). Everyone, including Yachiru, recoiled in horror. Momo fainted.
Ikkaku was subtly edging away from Yumichika, who had replaced his sunglasses and was standing statue-like and arms-akimbo. "Look, we don't have to make this a big deal. Just give us Yachiru and we'll go. She never got permission to be here."
"Oh, is that all?" Yachiru had already recovered, half-climbed Yumichika and was poking his afro in fascination. He remained a statue. "No problem! Kenny called this morning. He said it was fine! He's even going to be in the calendar! Just as soon as he finds a way out of Canada."
The captain had already called.
No problem at all.
He was gonna be in the calendar.
...
...
...
It was pointless.
The facade cracked. Yumichika wilted. Ikkaku looked dazed. They staggered out of the room. Rangiku made as if to stop them, perhaps to console them, but they stumbled on, unseeing.
They both collapsed like bunches of broccoli when they made it back to the jeep. Yumichika slowly dug the key out of his pocket and turned the ignition. Ikkaku put on his seat belt. They began the long journey back to Kansas in their hideous jeep.
They needed gas.