The callouses that had formed from the grip of her blade had long faded, left now only with fresh nicks from an amateur wielding a kitchen knife. A moment of bravery had given her the idea to try and make something herself to better communicate to her brother who was still bedridden. But it had become a sort of goose chase fetching the ingredients and finding the right kind of meal to prepare. Rukia had even overestimated the amounts, resulting in a full pot she now carried that was deemed too complicated or spicy to be delivered. It took the full use of both of her arms to hoist around the red pot between her arms; whether that was due to her prolonged stay within the walls of sekkiseki, her poor nutrition these past weeks, or the continued lack of her spiritual powers could be anyone’s guess. The added weight on her arms was enough to add momentum to her steps, but she was just able to catch herself before bumping into the woman in the hall of the fourth.

“Ah! Yamamoto--” She pauses, to the outer eye it might look like she bit her tongue on accident, but it was only her recalling the likely title, but still ends up correcting herself with a questioning tone unintentionally. “--fukutaichou?” Rukia hadn’t pictured that this would be the area that the two would cross paths. “Were you visiting my brother here?” She asks without thinking, mostly out of curiosity. In the back of her mind it seemed to tip a domino on her anxiety that she thought she had tucked away; the fact that she wasn’t the only one taking her brother’s time at the hospital. A small reminder of how much of him she still didn’t quite understand. Of course he would be visited by co-workers, she knew that would do him good, probably more comfortable than the hesitant silence that was too often between the Kuchiki siblings; she was probably the person that needed to see him the least.

With doubt stewing in her mind her head seemed to echo that she was a fool with foolish ideas, she wouldn’t quite tell she was holding her breath. It's only then that the stewing doubt brings itself to reality, but in a unexpected form of a loud stomach growl. Instantly a hue of red is on her cheeks as she both tries to turn away but also tries to retain some of her dignity by still facing the other, which results in her hiding her head in her shoulder as she tries to calm herself enough to reduce the beet color on her face before asking a question.“You wouldn’t uh, happen to dislike curry, would you?“

Her knuckles would knock against the tatami doors gently, her other hand occupied balancing a blanket folded neatly topped with a prepared tray which held a kettle and tea cups for two. It was by chance that she had noticed the beginning of the chill of next winter this morning, the goosebumps that the wind stirred this morning enough to prompt her to grab one more additional item than her usual tea set. There was barely a pause before Rukia would enter, nearly assuming the timing for the prompt to do so rather than particularly listening for it, and even less time would pass before she would delicately grasp the tray with her free hand and casually toss the folded fabric from her hold directly towards the person in charge, giving enough force to particularly shoot past the desk and more towards the area beyond it.