#deathberryreturns

temperamental-turtle deathberry-returns numsquam completely-hypnotic

The group of people that were standing in front of him were definitely different from what he was used to seeing. Each one had a different aura emanating from their very beings, some that the jinchuuriki wasn't too comfortable with. He would definitely have to be cautious around these ones.

Never hurt to be too careful, right?

"It seems like shinigamis are swarming this area," he stated before moving his gaze towards the ginger. "Are you the one who brought them here?"

He was cold. And he had a headache.

   One would think that the material world would allow him some form of freedom from his normal duties but that wasn't the case. He found it almost as stressful as being back in the Seireite. Namely for the place that he lodged at while there.  Urahara sure knew how to make a man feel guilty for simply sleeping. He was always roped into doing chores for said man and the little devils that lived with him.

   That aside, this was one of those times that coming back allowed him a short moment of freedom. To actually sit and relax before diving into the awaiting ink stains that would find place on his hands as he hunched over a desk for hours. Currently, he was simply sitting out back the barracks, enjoying the silence that came with it. Unlike the eleventh division, things around the sixth got to be pretty quiet and while Renji missed the noise on occasion, he liked the way things were around here.

               "...?"

A lucid gaze flickered from his desk, the small tint of drying ink filled the air, and even with candles, the stench could still be smelt. A soft sigh escaped him as turquoise hues drifted to his surroundings, slowly catching up with the moment at hand. Within moments, the gentle ringing that had once filled his mind drifted off due the oncoming sound of voices rambling about with one an other. A small vein becoming exposed on his temple.

Twitch, twitch.

The vein slowly began to grow, the sound of rambling filling his ears and soon his thoughts as mindless jabbering continued on before him. The faces before him were common, though some had gone weeks and even years without showing themselves directly, but still, he knew every one. What was most annoying as the face of his fukutaichou, sitting in one of the corners with a lucid smile on her face, lips jabbering off to another.

"Matsumoto…" Hitsugaya's voice was low, below the others, barely noticeable unless one stood directly in front of him. "Matusmoto…"

Twitch, twitch.

The vein continued to grow, a low growl emitting in his throat. "Matsumoto.." A soft aggravated sigh escaped him once more. He had already decided to blame a single face for the reason as to why so many stood before him resting, chatting and even laughing, there combined voices drowning out any thought he could manage to think.

"Matsumoto."

Twitch, twitch.

A loud thud, followed by a simple crack and then a crash. A small vase had fallen due to a single error in footing. And with that simple act, the damn inside him broke.

"WOULD SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHY ALL OF YOU ARE IN MY OFFICE!!!!!" A booming voice roared outwards from the desk, small hands slammed down onto the teak desk before him, papers flew away by the force. The room grew quiet, every eye now upon his aggravated features.

((Perhaps we could plot something semi-serious for once? At this rate we're gonna make our Muses break their house. ... And Ichigo's not paying.))