Don't Trust Men

There's a fun little trick Shinpei knew of: if there was a cute young thing you had your eye on, you could swing by the places you knew she visited. The trick was that you wouldn't walk up to her and say "hello" just right off the bat; instead, you had to show up again and again, until you could tell she was looking at you with an air of "haven't I seen that guy around?" After that, you just had to walk up to her somewhere and say--get this, this is the good part--"You know, you look real familiar. Have we met before?" Naturally, she wouldn't quite swoon into your arms all at once, but it helped you set that hook in her mind. You wouldn't be "that guy who introduced himself to me out of nowhere," but instead "that guy I see a lot of." After that, the rest would be easy.
Okay, maybe you don't think it's that fun. Maybe it's a little too tricky. I don't intend to pass judgment: all I'm saying is that Shinpei thought it was fun. In fact, he'd done it once or twice before, with some success. It wasn't like he needed the trick so much as he enjoyed the novelty. And if it worked or failed, who cared?

But he wasn't bringing back old favorites today. In fact, it was more like he was going back to basics. See, he'd had what he considered a pretty good thing going for him back before his brother had wrecked it. Ever since he'd set himself up in the Seireitei, his home had been more boudoir than bachelor's pad. His rooms had been full of women, flirting, chatting, engaging in lewder behaviors. More often with him than not. His family were rising stars, he was the best path into the nobility, and some women crave a challenge. What wasn't to love?

Of course, that had all come falling apart about a year and a half ago. His brother had made sure of that. No need to re-hash old history: there's no point to holding onto old grudges. My words, not his. I'm afraid he's always had a problem with moving on. Part of his personality, I think: he always did have a one-track-mind. He could only ever look in one direction at once.

He had a lot of things to rebuild. It turned out that no one had taken care of his garden--his sister's garden--in all the time he'd been gone. Not that he was so surprised by that, but the devastated ruins of what he'd so carefully cultivated still struck him a hard blow. Your fault. Yes: he supposed that was true. It was his fault. He couldn't imagine any real argument against that.
Some things had survived, but others hadn't. It was why he was here, walking out in the open, loosely holding a few bags of seeds. He had a great deal of work in front of him.

He raised an eyebrow and turned when the woman accosted him. "Deja vu," he grinned slightly. It did seem like he was reliving a similar encounter from back on Earth. "Let me guess, looking for my brother? About yea high," he held his free hand a few inches above his own head, "stoic, with a gigantic stick rammed alllllll the way up his ass?"
The two weren't on the best terms these days. They never had been on good terms, really, not since his sister had gone. But now things were much worse.
"I don't know where he is now, but I wouldn't mind searching for him with you. Maybe we could check a local bar."

His grin, ever mocking, ever self-possessed, only grew as he turned to face her. He really did look the perfect example of a playboy: a loose, flowery kimono draped around his slim body. His flesh was toned but pale, wiry and firm. He slung the small bag over his shoulder with an easy motion, eyes combing his new acquaintance from head to toe.
If he thought one thing or another about her, you'll have to wait to hear it. He liked to form his opinions slowly, maybe over a drink or ten.

Rania could appreciate aesthetic beauty from time to time. Easy on the eyes, something visually pleasing to look at during the somewhat awkward small talk. If nothing else about the person was redeeming enough, at least he was pretty to look at. The man standing in front of her about filled out that description: black hair, blues eyes, tall enough to pass the heels test but not too tall, and slim. By all accounts, she was sure that other women—more than just a few actually—would find him physically attractive. There was also a confidence with which the way he went about—one would call it cocky even but in just the right amount.

But for Rania, it would take much more than that to pique her interest. In fact, the way and reason for which she was analyzing him were far, far from evaluating him as a potential fling or significant other. The woman simply wanted to know why he looked so familiar.

There was a bemused look in her eyes. Rania tilted her head to the side slightly, mulling thoughtfully over what he had just said. “Brother?” She repeated. “Brother?” She then repeated, but more quietly that time. The pieces were still floating around. They hadn’t connected yet to form the bigger picture. It was like a puzzle that Rania didn’t even know she was putting together. She was so up close and personal that even when placed on the board, Rania wouldn’t know the meaning or see the significance of said pieces until she took a step back.

“No, I don’t think that’s quite it…?” The end of her statement rose in pitch, making it more of a rhetorical question than a statement. She still looked puzzled and Rania began to question herself. Was he simply a forgotten face? A relative she had met in passing while visiting someone else? It just didn’t seem to make sense.

Her eyes narrowed at the man when he finally turned around to face her. She even stood forward a little to get a closer look at his face—and no, this wasn’t simply bad flirting on Rania’s part, she was legitimately just curious. She tapped a finger lightly along her lips, still trying to make sense of what he meant. “I mean, whoever your brother is, he doesn’t sound like a very fun person,” was the only thing Rania could dubiously conclude from the man's, by all accounts, biased review.

“A bar?” She scoffed quietly with a small laugh. “No, I don’t think he sounds like someone who’d be found there even if I were looking for hi—“

Wait.

“Your brother?” For a third time, she repeated that phrase, this time a bit more incredulously. The moment finally clicked and this was when Rania realized she was only half right. She had seen him before but the two never formally met. He wouldn’t—and shouldn’t—have even known who she was because Rania had seen him in a memory, a vague, unhappy memory of Shun’s that she barely even remembered.

“Oh my god,” she said into a heavy a sigh. “You’re his brother.” Her voice sounded pained. “Let me guess, Shinpei Minamoto?” Shun never spoke of him much and she could probably count on one hand the number of times he had mentioned his name, but his name she did know.

“Well, now I actually could go for a drink. Why can’t life ever be simple?”

Rania went from the man she was trying to avoid to bumping into his scorned, younger brother. Another Minamoto was just what she needed, right?
- - - - -
Word count: 603
GP: 12

Total: 1316 / 26

Shinpei was unable to avoid appreciating aesthetic beauty. In fact, he was unable to avoid appreciating quite a lot of things, and that was just fine by him. After all, why wouldn't you want to look at a pretty rose and immediately think to yourself "oh, how beautiful?" He liked to surround himself with all sorts of flowers, each more beautiful than the last. Some were delicate and fine, some robust. He liked the ones with thorns, but then he liked the ones without thorns too.

He turned casually and ended up freezing right before managing to say anything too witty. His eyes opened wide for a flash, a second, then blinked. He tried to hide the lapse with a grin.
It had been a long time since he'd done something silly like that. Being put in that prison on Shun's ticket had really done him a number, he figured. Putting all sorts of strange thoughts in his head. Something about himself had been different since the time he'd spent completely isolated, locked off from sight or sound, but he couldn't quite tell just what made him feel that way. It was just a feeling.

He had lots of those--feelings, I mean. Like the pleasant appreciation that formed in his chest and his core as he looked the woman over. Yamato Nadeshiko, more or less: she was quite pretty in an austere kind of way. She had that long black hair that Japanese tended to find so gorgeously attractive, but he'd always sort of figured that was because there weren't many more colors to appreciate. Up here in the Soul Society and down there on Earth, he'd had the time to appreciate shades from blood red to bone white. Not, of course, that he had any problem with black. It was plain, but there was nothing all too wrong about that--as long as there was personality underneath to give some real body to it.
Or some real body to give personality to it. Or, according to his particular preference, both!

"Brother," he echoed her with a bit of amusement playing along his lips. "Brother." He figured that was probably it--she had to know him by his brother, or else she'd know him by his own face. He tended to keep track of faces if not names (was the girl warming his sheets right now named Karen or Makiko?) but this woman would certainly remember him. Maybe it wouldn't be a good memory: he was sorry that was sometimes the case. He certainly didn't think of himself like a bad guy. In his mind, he just engaged in some mutually enjoyable entertainment with the fairer sex every hour on the hour, if not more frequently.
I'm not being so kind to Shinpei: I apologize. It's too easy to portray him as a seedy, sex-obsessed, skirt-chaser. And in some ways he really was like that, but he had his better moments too. He'd known this one woman that would play some sort of stringed instrument for him--he didn't remember the name--and he could listen to it for hours. He still cared for his twin sister's garden, despite how long she'd been missing. He liked fine art and beautiful things, but he didn't half mind a cheap drink or a child's first painting. He was a hedonist but not a snob about it, unlike one knuckle-sandwich-serving woman he could name.

His real problem was that he tended to see things as a game, and once one thing's a game then everything is. At least for him. He had a one-track mind, see: he could only really focus on one thing at a time.

"Please," he murmured as she leaned in for a closer look, "I'm embarrassed. I simply can't stand you looking so closely at me without warning." He watched that finger tip-tap on her lips, and couldn't help but give a little grin. That way she was leaning in like that was the beginning of the dance, although she might not know it. She certainly looked like the staid and austere kind of woman he's already had a few words on. It was the first step of the dance, anyway, and he reacted automatically. He leaned in a little closer too, and his eyes roamed all over her, top to bottom.
"No," he agreed: "he's really not. I think he needs to be thrown in bed with a girl or two. Maybe along with an instruction manual. They could help out with rod stuck up him."
This was the second step: she would realize, soon, just how close they were, and he'd play it off a little. Laugh at her reaction. If she liked being on the defensive, he'd press it. If she attacked back, he--

Your BROTHER?

Shinpei leaned back a little, intrigued despite himself. He'd had this same sort of confrontation once or twice--once recently, back on Earth--and it had never gone quite like this. Usually, women were fawning over his brother because of his stoic attitude, status, and yes, his good looks--but he was able to help them come around. It was rare to see what seemed like a negative reaction.
"That's my name," he answered her with a nod, eyebrows raised. "I don't know yours, but I figure you'll tell me. Maybe over those drinks."

He placed his hand on her shoulder and pointed past her and to the side with his other, dangling the bags of seed as he gestured. "I know a great place. It's been a while, but the bartender is a great guy. Come on and you can tell me all about that big sigh." His grin was honest and infectious. Who could blame him? His brother had just forced him through the worst kind of torture Shinpei could imagine. Any dark secrets in Shun's past were welcome additions to the resentment he felt at the way they'd parted.

In his mind, he answered the rhetorical question she'd posed: Life is simple, we just make it more complicated than it has to be.

It was fascinating, really, to find yourself stumbled upon the brother so vehemently hated but what for exactly? She’d long since stopped trying to pry Shun for answers. He always got so moody every time Shinpei was brought up and if her own experience with their very own mother was off-putting enough, Rania could probably take a wild yet simultaneously educated guess that the history between them was unpleasant and possibly not even worth the effort of knowing. For Rania’s part, she would remain neutral despite her closeness with the older of the two Minamoto brothers. Didn't Shinpei at least deserve that chance above anything else?

It wasn't jump first, then ask questions later. There was some sort of calculated madness to all of this so calm eyes continued observe him casually as expression remained steady in demeanor. The slight deviation from his usual behavior was lost upon her. She barely knew the man, after all, but perhaps it would make more sense in hindsight. For now, it just a small blip. 

Even as Shinpei played along in an act of the words she’d just said, Rania was able to shrug off the playful antics. Even when their eyes met closer when she leaned, Rania was still unfazed, merely apologizing before backing away. “Right, I’m sorry. Personal boundaries are still a thing. I should be painfully aware of that by now,” she whispered in the vicinity before taking a small step back.

In the end, Rania chose to laugh—yes, laugh thinking back to Shinpei’s words just before her outburst and revelation. She eyed him from the side with a small grin forming across her lips. “Ah yes, Shun, the know-it-all big brother. Suddenly, everything makes more sense.” On Rania’s part, she wasn’t necessarily being malevolent or malicious. The joking manner was simply the way she tended to come off when speaking about the current Fourth’s Captain. Everyone else she’d met was so tightlipped—and for good reason too—but it felt nice to meet someone who wasn’t so wound up about it. The reasons may have been different but her first impressions of Shinpei were pleasant enough, certainly not bad by any means.

What was the harm—well, no, Rania wasn’t stupid enough to think this chance meeting to be entirely innocuous but for the moment, she would entertain the dance that was beginning. If there was anything she learned, it was to lead by her own example. Intuition nudged her to trust Shinpei for now. She’d certainly have to be careful but her decisions were her own and so were either the consequences or rewards reaped from said decisions.

A small weight weighed down on her as Shinpei gripped her shoulder. She didn’t shrug it off nor did she immediately move. Instead, Rania peered upward into his eyes only to be greeted with a smile. For a split second, she remained emotionless. She was taking a chance. This was taking a chance but such chance-taking was what brought her to where she was now.

Let's just go with it. 

“Rania Odette,” she then said, breaking the silence between them. “My name is Rania. I like whiskey. Be a gentleman and lead the way, why don’t you?” She returned his smile too, perhaps not quite as infectious, but honest enough. Rania had no idea what his purpose in furthering this encounter was but the intrigue was palpable enough that she wouldn’t back away.

So there was a change in plans tonight, plans that were steadied with caution but changed nevertheless.

Then, a run-of-the-mill question sprouted from her lips. “Tell me a little bit about yourself, Shinpei.” At first glance, it seemed harmless enough to ask but if you dug a little deeper, it meant so much more.
- - - - -
Word count: 628
GP: 12

Total: 1944 / 38

Personal boundaries are still a thing.
Shinpei cocked an eyebrow at her, taking the time to expand the quick once-over she'd already been afforded. Little things began to add up in a decidedly alien way: you'd think he'd have spent enough time among women on Earth and women up here to be able to tell when some things were off ever so slightly. A posture choice here, an expression there... these were the sorts of things that started out as an impression, hiding below the surface, coming into reality once a large enough clue broke them free.
But in the end, he didn't have much to match her to. He'd spent a very small amount of time among Hueco Mundo's fairer sex, and though his experience had been intensive it certainly hadn't been extensive.
There was a hint of something more significant--he was aware of that much--but her mannerisms weren't immediately obvious. Perhaps her muddled history, which of course he knew nothing about, was to blame.
So, in the end, all he said was, "You're an odd duck, aren't you?"

Still, it was hardly enough to dissuade him. He didn't mind oddities every now and then, especially when they seemed to have less-than-perfect impressions of his brother. That was like a cup of ice cold water in the desert: so, so refreshing that it could knock him right out. He'd need to steady himself with a drink or five before he could fully enjoy that fact.
Luckily for him, he happened to be heading in the exact direction of a bar. Is that fortuitous or what?

"Good to meet you, Rania who likes whiskey. I'll certainly lead the way," he grinned, "but as for what about myself I should tell you..." he pretended to ponder that for just a moment as he led her on. He hadn't been lying: it really was a nice little place he had in mind. It only took them a block or two to reach it. The bar looked decidedly out of place in the Seireitei, which had a decidedly Japanese aesthetic--but sometimes you had strange people (odd ducks?) come wandering through. It was impossible to say whether the owner of this particular shop (a member of a Division, one of them, ages ago) had spent time in the Old West or just liked the aesthetic. Shinpei pushed the swinging wooden double doors open and walked right in with a greeting to the proprietor.
Somehow, even in the unnatural cleanliness of the Soul Society, the place looked and smelled a little dusty. There was what looked like an unused spittoon in a corner and a metal footrest that people tended to ignore.

"Hey, Kobayashi," Shinpei called. "An old fashioned for my friend and a whiskey sour for me." The bartender--wearing a cowboy hat, of course--nodded his head. The few other patrons in the bar looked up briefly but didn't acknowledge them besides that.

Shinpei found a small table for two in the corner and made for it. "Let's see. About myself... I like pretty things. Art, women, flowers. Roses are my favorite but I like Tulips, Lilacs and Forget-Me-Nots too. I don't get along well with my living family." He scratched the back of his neck a little sheepishly as he pulled out a chair for her. "This is a little embarrassing to say, but... I sometimes dream that I'm flying. And then I wake up and I'm stuck on the ground."

He loved the little game words could turn into. In his own particular style he'd given away a lot about himself. Some of it seemed unimportant but wasn't, while other pieces were unimportant despite seeming trivial. And there was even a lie mixed in for good measure.
Not that he was really expecting her to take it all apart. It was a light-hearted joke, that was all. She could take it as straight as she wanted.

"And you? What's your deal?"

It was as if, all things considered, learning to operate within a realm of normalcy was something she was still getting used to—oh, it wasn’t as if, it exactly was. She was still trying to let go of that uptightness practiced from centuries of paranoia. Life is good if you played a little more, wasn’t it? Spilling her entire life story—all of them—to anyone and everyone was unnecessary but at some point, Rania would have to stop acting like a stranger in her own body. She understood the theory behind it but putting theory in reality was an entirely different ballgame. Eventually, the slight awkwardness would disappear or so she hoped anyway.

For now, a phrase, a name that Shinpei used to describe her had caught Rania off-guard. She couldn’t help but laugh from just how absurd it sounded to her. “An odd duck?” She repeated. It was difficult to hide the amusement in her eyes so she didn’t. “You know, I’ve been called a lot of things in my life but never once have I ever been called a duck.”

After a while, Rania finally put a stop to what felt like endless giggling on her end. She took a deep breath in an attempt to steady herself. Shinpei was easily more charming than Shun and despite an obvious chemistry, Rania already felt more relaxed around the former than the latter and they’d only just met. Funny how things worked like that. It even felt a little bit like betrayal on Rania’s part but if that were the case, there were plenty of other more reproachful things for her to feel remorse about. Rather than worry about a natural order out of her own control, she decided to shake it off.

The bar itself felt homely, comfortable like the way she was currently feeling. It reminded her of the speakeasy she used to frequent in France, hidden away in a small alley, out of place but somehow authentic all at the same time. Seemed like Seireitei held more to it than met the eye. On her own, Rania would have most certainly skipped over this place, would have missed it altogether because she didn’t look closely enough. What luck, then, that she’d have a run-in with Shinpei, who was very obviously well acquainted with the bar and its proprietor (on a first name basis, at that).

Her eyes quickly flicked toward Shinpei as she settled herself across the table from hiim. Normally, it would have bothered Rania that he ordered for her—she considered it a bit presumptuous and it was something that bothered her a lot about Shun—but at least Shinpei had good taste. If he hadn’t, she would have ordered an old fashioned for herself anyway.

As he spoke, there was a telling look in Rania’s eyes—one that almost seemed to scream how obvious it was that Shinpei didn’t get along his living family (she had Shun to thank for this reaction). But instead of harping on that particular comment, Rania decided there were other things more worth both of their time and attention.

“Well, I’m no psychologist,” she said while leaning back a little. “But isn’t dreaming about flying supposed to signify that you’re happy? Or that you have high hopes? Well, in your case, perhaps it’s a lack of freedom if waking up is the worst part of it all.” Without knowing Shinpei better, it was hard for her to say why he truly felt like that, but if he did, Rania could wholly sympathize.

“As for me…” Rania smiled slightly at the server as he brought over their drinks before continuing. “Rania Odette. First Division, Third Seat.” Afterward, there was a deliberate pause and then a small smirk. “Not the answer you were looking for? Let me try again.”

“Sometimes, I dream that I’m a different person than I am now and then I wake up and realize that I really was that person I dreamt but that I’ve changed.” She took a small sip of her drink before blue eyes shifted over to Shinpei again. “Still not the answer you’re looking for?” A quiet laughter followed. It wasn’t like Rania to play word games like this anymore. She usually tried to be much more straightforward.

Clearing her throat, she started once more, “Third time’s a charm, right? Your brother and I are,”—a split second pause; would Shinpei like what he found?—“friends but he’s far from perfect. I too am far from it so I appreciate that imperfection.”
- - - - -
Word count: 751
GP: 15

Total: 2705 / 53

"What a coincidence! I've called a lot of people a lot of things in my life but I've never once met someone so duck-like." He grinned at her, never passing up the opportunity to tease. He'd made her laugh, at least: always a pleasure. In all honesty Shinpei was in it for the whole gamut of emotions. He liked to see pretty girls smiling, laughing, crying, glaring, gaping. Of course he liked some responses a little better than others, but he wasn't so picky. Just so long as both of them had fun in the end.

Now that they were all settled, Shinpei got comfortable. He leaned slightly in his chair, his robes just a little askew. It was like he was melting, just a little bit, into the seat: after a moment or two it looked like the most natural thing in the world that he should be sitting here, at this table, in this seat. It looked made for him.
Of course, the chairs weren't that comfortable. They were wooden and in slight disrepair. In fact, the whole bar looked like it could use a touch-up here and there. Shinpei personally didn't know whether the state of the place was intentional or whether it had all just turned out that way. This was how he'd always known it and if there were halcyon days full of nicely-upholstered seats and spotless floors--well, he couldn't say the first thing about them.

He wrinkled his nose and studied some spot on the ceiling, hands folded behind his head. "I've never held much stock in psychology. It's always seemed a little silly to me." He thought for a moment, scratching the back of his head. "But if you're into dream interpretation... tell me, I keep having this strange dream and I just can't figure out what it means." He leaned in close, affecting a deadly serious expression. "I start off by seeing this really beautiful, black haired girl. And then this big, long serpent appears, and she kisses it!"
He leaned back, the mirth in his eyes finally spilling out in a wide grin. "It's truly baffling to me, but maybe you can help unravel the mystery."
This was the kind of wordplay he was best at. He was such an incorrigible flirt, after all.

And believe it or not, she was easing into it too. That was his favorite part. One of his favorite parts. He had so many it was difficult to choose.

Shinpei took a sip of his drink and slowly swirled the glass, ice clinking. It wasn't the best he'd ever had but he didn't mind. Like Hazuki had discovered, he wasn't a very good hedonist. He just played at it a little.
"Oh, perfect's no fun at all," he grinned at her and took another sip. "I do my best to never try for it that hard, but Shun's different. I think that's why he has so few," he paused for just a moment, smile growing wicked, "friends. I guess he hasn't managed to chase you away yet."

"I'll tell you what," he continued. "Why don't you swap one brother for the other? I'm very appreciative of my," a pause, "friends, and I offer full dental as well as a tidy severance package."
Everything was a game to him. Almost everything.
"I'm rated one of the best Shinigami to work under. It's hard work but I get rave reviews."

Her eyes narrowed as he spoke. There was a faint trace of a smirk. Perhaps it was obvious to an outsider looking into the conversation but it took Rania a bit longer to figure it all out. He was—or rather, they were playing a game, a dance if you will. As long as she continued entertaining him, he’d deign to oblige her presence. In many ways—and with women particularly, she guessed—he knew just how to push the right buttons and pull the right strings. For some reason, this became readily apparent to her when she’d been called a duck. Tch, she scoffed good-naturedly under her breath.

For the while, Rania let the silence between them simmer. She too followed suit and leaned back herself, letting her eyes wander. The bar itself could be described as almost murky. Rays of a sinking sun that snuck inside highlighted dust gently floating in the air. Perhaps that was why her eyes watered a bit, felt like she wanted to sneeze but the sneeze wouldn’t come to. It was indeed an atmosphere that forced you to accommodate to it rather than the other way around. Certainly a different kind of customer service than what was popular nowadays but that same nonchalance was part of the bar’s charm, she was sure.

Eventually, her gaze fell back onto Shinpei. The first thing she noted out of the corner of her eye was his relaxed pose. You would have never guessed that they just met based on his behavior. It was almost unnatural how laid-back he was and in a nutshell, the complete opposite of his brother. But for now, observations aside, they would continue this little game of theirs. Shinpei leaned in close, too close in fact; Rania, however, did not flinch. She kept her composure and stared right back at him. Her expression remained neutral and neither did she smile nor did she frown. Instead, Rania simply listened to his story and then, as he leaned back once more, took a sip of her own drink with one eye closed.

“Mm, sounds like you’re going to have to find an expert to analyze that dream for you. I’m afraid I’m of no help.” The words spoke themselves in a slight sing-song voice. The faint grin from before had returned. She set her drink down and then mirrored Shinpei’s previous motion of leaning in close. “I’m not too sure about the latter but don’t you think it’s a bit odd that you were dreaming of a girl you just met today?” It was the push and pull. That was the thrill of it all as she teasingly joked. Rania could play her part for now. It was even a little bit—dare she say it—fun.

With a small shrug, she then leaned back again with a laugh. Rania pretended to thoughtfully consider his offer, letting silence hang in the air for a brief second before waggling her finger at him. “Sure, we can be friends but let me make one thing clear: I work for myself.” Then she crossed her arms and deliberately let the moment pass so that she could ask, “So… what brings you back to Seireitei?”

Truthfully, she knew exactly why—or rather, she knew Shun’s side of the story why. You see, family was a concept that Rania admittedly never heeded very strongly toward. After all, she basically abandoned what could have been a family of her own but live and let live, right? Why try to fix something that wasn’t broken to begin with? It was that ‘do-gooder’ side with which she always found difficult to relate.
- - - - -
Word count: 610
GP: 12

Total: 3315 / 65

Another sip of his drink. Another glance shot her way, and another lazy look around the bar. This was his element and he just had so much fun whenever he could really get into it. Like an actor who truly shone on stage--but loved the practice room almost as well. He loved every part of the dance, even the parts between moves or the parts where he had no one to dance with.
Not having something just made you want it more, after all.

A wide, honest grin spread across his face as she held her cool. That was the latest little challenge--the latest little move in the dance--and her response only made him want to tease her a little more.
It was too bad that she ended up missing two of his moves, but he didn't plan on missing too much sleep over it. She was, after all, an odd duck. She had an excuse to not know the dance inside and out. He'd cover her falter and play up the little spin she had done.
That was the real fun of it: the give-and-take. If he was the only one teasing her, he'd get bored. If she was the only one teasing him, it was a cold day in hell.

He mirrored her, refusing to give ground when she leaned in. "Maybe it's fate," he gasped, pretending to be serious for as long as he could. Maybe a whole two seconds. "But it's not so strange as you might think. I don't know for certain you were the woman in my dream: it could just be a coincidence. We'll have to see if the rest of it comes true." That same all-knowing, infectious grin grew on his face. Would she recognize the joke this time? He was certainly willing to give her a second try at it.

Then the second move she'd missed. "Crystal," he answered her, and swirled his drink slightly. The ice made a nice clinking sound as it spun in the half-empty glass. He raised it to his lips and sipped it as he shot a glance around the bar.

He'd made some good memories here, and some part of him was pleased to see that almost nothing had changed. It was the kind of joint you could walk in two days or two years after your last visit and the bartender would nod at you like you were old friends and had been all this time. Little things might have been altered here and there, like a new (old) painting on a wall or a slightly thicker film of dust on a particularly out-of-the-way table. All the same, some things never changed.
It made him a little nostalgic: a lot of things tended to do that these days. Maybe he was getting old or something.

He drained the glass and caught the bartender's eye, who nodded and came to refill Shinpei's glass just as soon as he was done with a customer at the bar.
He figured it was all the fault of going to Earth and mingling with humans. He admired them--honest, he did--but something about their short, fiery lives had made his several centuries seem...
well, long.
In the end, it was all his brother's fault.

Shinpei sighed as he turned back to his new companion. "No pulling the punches, huh?" He considered his answer, then set his glass down and ran a finger along it. He managed to produce a quiet note once or twice but clearly wasn't very good at it.
"Well, to make a long story short, there's nowhere else I should be. This is my home. My family was born here. I was born in the Soul Society and I've been elsewhere in my life but I'll probably die here too. I love it here, even when I hate it."
And he did hate it. It wasn't fair but he did hate it every now and then. You couldn't live in an uptight place like this without coming into conflict with it. At least, he couldn't.

"The reason I came back when I did, instead of earlier, is because I got dragged back in by Shun. Or a proxy, anyway. Cute proxy." He shrugged. "Then he locked me up. When he took me out he said he was tired of trying to teach me a lesson. No skin off my back."

He took another drink. This wasn't nearly as fun.
"So as long as we're asking the boring questions, where are you from? You don't have the look of someone who was born here, and you don't act like it either."

It was true: right now, they were simply actors on a stage. While the script was not predetermined, each move forward wrote the next scene of the play. But suddenly, the stage seemed just a little lonelier than before. A single spotlight shone down on her and when Rania looked around, she was the only person there.

A slow creak fills the dark auditorium as the curtain falls and she finds that she is out of breath. She is filled with mixed feelings as she breathes out. Did I make any mistakes today? How did the audience seem? She stands in the middle of the empty stage, still excited from the performance, but this is merely the intermission. The heat of the show hadn’t cooled down. She couldn’t leave behind the empty seats yet. This was no time to be careless. It wouldn’t be the first either. She had better get used to it.

This world can’t be perfect. She couldn’t own the thundering applause forever in this audience of one so she tells herself: raise your voice higher.

It was hard to mirror him from the stage across the way and then Rania wondered, why was she trying to in the first place? They were singing along to the same melody but the words were different. Something told her that she could remain steadfast in her conviction. They were here as equals today and Rania demanded she be treated as one.

Tilting her head to the side with one eye closed, Rania crossed her arms with a slightly inscrutable smile upon her lips. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to start falling for you or something? You’ll have to try harder than that.” It seemed that she understood this brother about as much as the other—which was to say, very little. Part of it could be attributed to having just met. The rest of it though? Maybe it really was Rania herself but still, she was forging her own path—even if it was a ways off the trodden one.

This was where they deviated, I’m afraid, but she was not sorry. Rania had nothing to apologize for. They were treading into unhappy territory for Shinpei. Asked the same question, his attitude was just about the same too: sullen and a little bit uncomfortable. “So I’ve been told, Shinpei,” she said carefully. “Thank you for telling me your side of the story.”

Yet, it still bothered her. Why did everyone always insist on dragging people back toward that from which they wanted to escape? Even if you were a Captain, even if he was your flesh and blood, she simply didn’t understand. Her countenance grimaced slightly from the thought. More and more, Rania was finding that she had less in common with Shun than initially imagined. It was, perhaps, a dying chemistry but that is a story to be told on a different day.

For now, Rania sighed deeply before reverting attention back to the man from across the table. “Me? I’m just one of the new kids on the block trying to fit in.” She smiled that same inscrutable smile again. “You could say that I’m a bit… Hollow and you’re exactly right: I wasn’t born here. While I don’t mean to brag, I’d like to think my experiences very… otherworldly, many of them.”

Then, a pause. Deliberate.

“You don’t seem like you’re having much fun anymore. Did I do something wrong?”
- - - - -
Word count: 576
GP: 11

Total: 3891 / 76

Shinpei pressed his middle finger down on the rim of his glass. He pushed so hard that it started to teeter, but didn't quite fall: he slowly rolled his finger around the rim and made the glass gently roll on its extreme bottom edge. It made a quiet little sound and it hardly wobbled. He was full of strange little skills like that: as I've said, he was terribly good at whatever he turned his mind to. The only problem was that he tended not to turn his mind much of anywhere. Little quirks like this--sometimes they were interesting enough to keep him practicing.

She struck a little pose, one eye closed like she'd just solved a mystery, and you'll have to forgive him if he laughed a little. It was all just a bit ridiculous: her responses were becoming ever so slightly staged, ever so slightly pre-rehearsed. He wasn't quite sure what to do with it just yet. (I hadn't meant the metaphor quite that literally!) Still, it's always fun to play along. It shows a kindred spirit or at least a willingness to experiment, and you can guess how much Shinpei loved the latter.
He didn't bother responding to the slight jab. If she was falling for him, then ignoring it wouldn't hurt him. If she wasn't, then he'd only waste time addressing it.
You can't negotiate attraction. Either you like someone or you don't.

He raised his eyebrows at the not-so-subtle "Hollow" reference: so she could be witty (he had to give her credit: not much you could work the word into and still come out with a good sentence) when she put her mind to it. That part of her had been absent ever since they'd entered the bar, and he wasn't sure why. Nervousness? Inexperience? Had he just been reading the give-and-take into their initial walk?
He had half a mind to abandon the attempt, but her final question kind of revealed to him just what the problem was.
Inexperience times about a thousand sounded just about right.

Shinpei folded his hands and cocked his head a little at her. "You've never really been hit on before, have you? Not really." It wasn't all that surprising: the beautiful tended to intimidate. The ugly tended to be ignored. The average were rarely sought after initially. Whichever of the three Rania was, she hadn't for a single moment displayed that she knew her way around being pursued. She certainly didn't know the first thing about pursuing.
"That's fine, I don't mind it much." That was true: he loved starting from the beginning as much as he loved starting in media res. It just meant more work, which was sometimes worth it. "But I am determined," he pointed a finger at her semi-seriously, "determined to enjoy myself flirting with you. So let me tell you what we're going to do."

If she liked following scripts she'd like this too.

"We're going to stop talking about the past. I certainly don't have much in my history I'd like to share let alone dwell upon, and I have a hunch you're the same." He tapped his finger on his glass, ice slowly melting.
"What we are going to talk about is going to be half substance, half fluff. We're going to stop talking like business partners and start talking like members of the opposite sex."

"Like this: you'll ask me what I'm doing later and I'm going to smile and say that it depends who's asking. Then if I asked you the same question you'd say something like 'It depends who's telling'." He grinned a little. He thought it was witty. I'm not at liberty to agree or disagree.

"That example is a little extreme, but do you see what I mean? I'm not interested in sitting here and plugging yes/no answers into little formulaic questions we have for each other. I'm far too sober for that and in ten drinks I will still be too sober for that."
"Instead, we're going to trade little parting shots back and forth. It's going to be difficult because we're not actually meaning what we say: when you tell me you're not falling for me yet, after this point it's going to be because you really want to say I can fall for you, Don't get cocky, and I want you to try harder."

"But it's going to be fun because we're going to end up saying a lot more about ourselves than we plan to, and it's going to be exciting because we can say things we never planned to and never would straight out."

He fixed her with his calm brown eyes. They'd lost a little bit of their luster. I guess maybe it went to show how last-ditch of an effort this was.
"Now, are you in or are you out?"