#* &. asks.

Why he allows Grimmjow to do these things to him, he’ll never understand.  

Why he trusts that a split second of pain would not lead to more, or perhaps worse, is beyond him, but whatever the reason he’d sat still and let Grimmjow maneuver as needed to pierce the lobe and in the end, secure his apparent birthday gift into place.  Much of it remains hidden beneath the mask, but he knows it’s there. He feels it against his skin, in the added weight in his ear, in the way catches on the bony plate veiling it. Not something he ever thought he’d be wearing, but now that he is, he can’t imagine being without.

He cannot help but dip beneath the mask to run his fingers over its form, immediately catching the shape of a fang not unlike that which he’d given Grimmjow the month before.  “You didn’t…” He turns slowly toward Grimmjow, and for a split second, finds himself unable to meet those eyes. No, Grimmjow didn’t have to do it. Surely no one knew that better than the man himself, yet there he was, doing it anyway.  There IS a question of why the Espada might care to do it, but that is soon overshadowed. Grimmjow gave him something. For his birthday, no less. Something that appeared to have been designed personally, if not crafted as well. Maybe he’s mistaken on that assumption, but it sure as hell seemed that way and that’s good enough for him.  Needless to say, he loves it. Again, it’s a modification and adornment he never thought he’d have, but that makes no difference. Soon he’s practically beaming at Grimmjow … but there is one small issue, as his opinion is not the only one to consider.  

Would Lord Baraggan …?  

For a second his enthusiasm dampens.  Wide eyes, still yet to leave Grimmjow, falter, softening as the thought really hits him.  What if…what if his lord did not approve of it? What if he really didn’t like it, or worse, ordered Abirama to remove it?  It breaks his heart to think of that, but it is a possibility….

Grimmjow’s touch at his waist is enough to silence further questions.  For a second there Abi is content with the gentle urging and gladly follows the order it reinforces, walking in step with the Espada beside him toward the infirm.  But he should have known it wasn’t going to last, that content and calm feeling.  It really was only a second (or so it seems) before Grimmjow ultimately ruined it with that…well, shit, it sounds like a threat to him.

He doesn’t stop in his tracks (hell no, he’s not going to be scared off by that, not in this lifetime) but he does slow, an incredulous look thrown at Grimmjow.  And just like that, he’s on the alert again, even going so far as to pull out of the hold upon him.  

“Alright…?“ 

Right away he’s looking over Grimmjow, searching for bruises, specks of blood, anything that might be a telltale sign of injury.  But, unless there is something hidden beneath the Espada’s uniform, he seems just fine.  Abirama is fine, as well, without so much as a bump on him courtesy of a rather uneventful day, so…what?

Yeah.  He knows.  That is the idea, after all.

He had also noticed that those blue eyes had yet to drift away, which was his exact intention when he’d first climbed on top of Grimmjow.  There is an appreciation in those eyes that Abi is beginning to find irresistible, and he’s going to soak up as much of that attention as Grimmjow will allow, which in this case meant straddling the Espada’s hips to give the man a prime view of the muscles in Abirama’s torso.  The fraccion grins down at Grimmjow.  Abi grasps both of Grimmjow’s wrists in a light hold to pull those hands off his thighs, instead guiding them over his abs in a slow path to his chest.  Again he flexes as he had before, in rapid succession so those pecs vibrate under the other’s palms.

[msg]:  you’re supposed to be kakuzu’s problem tonight.  why are you bothering ME?[msg]:  he leave your ass somewhere or something

A pause.  Abi can’t say  he knows the man well enough to assume that was the issue, but given the way Hidan was with a little liquor in him....literally no one could blame the guy, if he did.  

[msg]:  you’re an idiot.  yanno that?[msg]   i’ll be there in 20.  

“Yeah, I know.”  

Of all the things Abi is, ignorant of his talent is not one of them.  It’s a point of immense pride, the strength that powers every punch he throws.  It’s that which caught the boss’s discerning attention, why so much faith had been placed upon him.  When he lands a hit, his opponent feels it throughout a match’s duration.  His power is no secret to anyone he’d faced (and even to those he hadn’t yet, all they had to do was look at him, c’mon now) and yet, if Grimmjow paid close attention, the little glow his compliment had brought on just might be evident.  There had been a little extra oomph behind the two punches he’d thrown after, as if to drive the point home further.  Or show off a little more.  Which it was is up for debate.