A/N: thank you and enjoy.

Black Twilight, chapter: 5, Dinner disaster.

Falsity.

A condescending attitude to hide her fear… yet perhaps there was a sense about her that spoke of inner strength.

Ulquiorra wasn't sure.

He didn't actually care one way or another.

The girl was their prisoner.

Not someone to get in any way involved with or comforted.

Seeing her placid expression he changed his mind about the last one.

She did not want false comfort.

More likely didn't expect it.

And for that, he respected her a grain more than previously.

"Ulquiorra Schiffer, Cuatro Espada," he said briskly.

………………………………..V

She didn't bother with the little detail of how she already knew his first name.

It didn't matter.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ulquiorra," Rukia decided it would belittle her Royal station to cry for mercy or show any untoward depression for her predicament.

Let the fools think, she didn't mind having sourpuss here as her companion…

"Woman," Ulquiorra interrupted.

Definitely a Bastard.

"Not 'Woman.' Rukia," she said patiently, a tiny tick appeared at the corner of her mouth, "if you'd prefer I call you 'Ulqui' instead?"

He was quiet; from the mirror's reflection she saw no visible change in his bored expression.

Just one hand slid out of his pocket to hang limply at his side.

She wondered what in Soulsociety was going through his mind, maybe nothing.

The minutes ticked by.

Then abruptly he turned as if to leave, at the door he paused, "Ru-kia, I will be back with dinner shortly."

She let out a breath that she wasn't even conscious of holding when his white clad form disappeared through the doorway.

She'd won the first round so far but wasn't sure how long she could hold out if this is what she'd be facing everyday for who knows how long…

…………………………………V

'Ulqui'

He had to admit it wasn't that bad.

Grimmjow had called him worse.

Even his Fraccion talked behind his back.

So, 'Ulqui' wasn't bad at all.

Since all the servants in the Castle were dead, he recalled, going down into the lower regions where he'd been told the Kitchens were, he wondered who was going to make 'Rukia' dinner?

The silver-haired Ex Captain cheerfully carving up a loaf of wheat bread said quite happily that 'he' was.

Ulquiorra stared uncomprehendingly at Lord Aizen's most trusted friend—Gin Ichimaru.

"You are, Ulquiorra. Who else? Szayel? I think not," Gin said wisely.

"But I…" he started.

"Don't worry!" Gin carried off a tray of what looked like sandwiches," boss man's dinner, ya know? See you later."

The Shinigami left with a cheerful wave.

Ulquiorra had no idea what to do.

Obviously Gin had used up all the bread and cold cuts.

'Hmm,' Ulquiorra cautiously approached a long white vegetable on the butcher-block counter.

'This looks promising.'

………………………………V

Rukia looked up expectantly when her bedroom door opened.

In the short time Ulquiorra had been gone, her appetite had come back in full force.

So she was more than a little dismayed at the plate he set down at the foot of her bed.

Vegetables.

Cut in weird shapes…vegetables…why?!

She glanced from the plate up to his face back and forth.

It was Daikon to top it off.

She hated Daikon.

His expression was cool and calm, not in the least perturbed by the moon shaped veggies she was supposed to eat.

Who the hell was the cook here?!

"What. Is. This?" she asked, not hiding her blatant disgust.

"Dinner," he answered simply and took a seat at her vanity.

He stared.

Maybe at this rate she was more likely to die of starvation than sheer boredom.

………………………………………

To be continued.

A/N: a Daikon is a Japanese radish—I think. Please review.