"And this matters to me because?" Urahara asked grumpily, not sounding at all like his usual self.
Isshin grinned down the phone.
"It matters," he continued patiently, "because last weekend my son was up at the arse-crack of dawn to head to the Shoten, on a weekend, to do work, on a whim of yours, and he came back in a terrible mood by the way, just what did you say to him? Anyway," he resumed, "this week, he gets carried off by some muscle-bound guy with grey hair and piercings, with some green-haired girl in tow."
There was a weighty silence.
"Carried off, you say," Urahara asked darkly, and Isshin flashed the victory sign to Masaki's poster across the living room.
"Mm," Isshin rumbled, "over his shoulder! I must say, in all fairness, that my son didn't seem overly bothered by the situation," he said musingly, "a bit of token struggling, but he wasn't really trying, if you know what I mean."
Isshin had to cover the receiver for a moment as he went into a fit of giggles. Composing himself, he returned to the phone.
"My theory is that this week away – he's been cleared from school and everything, you know, they've been very thorough – or was that you? Nice of you to help Ichigo and his boyfriend with their bonding time, like that, Kisuke, very generous."
Urahara grunted down the line, seemingly without anything to say for once.
"Anyway, I'd better go, I think I hear Karin at the door," Isshin lied, "let's catch up for a drink sometime, yes? Great, bye-bye!"
He managed to hang up the phone before collapsing on the floor, roaring with laughter and clutching his sides.
By the time Karin did walk in the door, he'd exhausted himself and fallen asleep on the floor, by the poster of Masaki.
"Idiot," Karin said, rolling her eyes. But she still fetched a blanket to drape over his prone form.