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Jan. 31st, 2005 05:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonsheenKuchiki Byakuya and the 6th Division:
Evidently, for lack of a nearby rookie or 4th division medic to shove the work upon as a means of compromise, the men had decided to stage a war over the cleaning schedule. Their voices were loud and unpleasant. Occasionally a something banged against a wall. Ink rippled in the inkwell.
Far be it for a petty ruckus in the hall to garner the attention of Kuchiki Byakuya, but as disturbances went it was fairly irritating. The Captain of the Sixth paused in dipping his brush to cast a brief glance at the door.
“Hm,” he said, and looked back down.
Across the room his Vice-Captain roused himself. He yawned, stretched, creased his nose, and bristled like an animal--a full shouldered shiver of a movement, that. “Hey, Captain,” said the young man, a great deal of tooth in it. “Want me to…?” He gave a jerk of his head.
The captain raised a hand.
Obediently, the Vice-Captain padded out the door. It clicked behind softly him. Byakuya returned to work. A moment passed.
Then, booming from down the halls away, a bark: “ALLRIGHT YOU LITTLE SHITS, SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY. SOME GUYS ARE ACTUALLY TRYING TO GET SOME DAMN WORK DONE! WORK!”
Silence. Byakuya eyed the ink that had jumped out of the well at the tremors for a very long time. Eventually the vice captain returned, drawn up to his full height and with a bit of a strut to his step.
“Heh." He grinned. "Better?”
Byakuya pulled a cloth from one of the desk drawers to dab at the blots before they could stain the wood. “Yes,” he said, with something that was not quite a sigh. “Thank you, Renji. That will do.”
Evidently, for lack of a nearby rookie or 4th division medic to shove the work upon as a means of compromise, the men had decided to stage a war over the cleaning schedule. Their voices were loud and unpleasant. Occasionally a something banged against a wall. Ink rippled in the inkwell.
Far be it for a petty ruckus in the hall to garner the attention of Kuchiki Byakuya, but as disturbances went it was fairly irritating. The Captain of the Sixth paused in dipping his brush to cast a brief glance at the door.
“Hm,” he said, and looked back down.
Across the room his Vice-Captain roused himself. He yawned, stretched, creased his nose, and bristled like an animal--a full shouldered shiver of a movement, that. “Hey, Captain,” said the young man, a great deal of tooth in it. “Want me to…?” He gave a jerk of his head.
The captain raised a hand.
Obediently, the Vice-Captain padded out the door. It clicked behind softly him. Byakuya returned to work. A moment passed.
Then, booming from down the halls away, a bark: “ALLRIGHT YOU LITTLE SHITS, SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY. SOME GUYS ARE ACTUALLY TRYING TO GET SOME DAMN WORK DONE! WORK!”
Silence. Byakuya eyed the ink that had jumped out of the well at the tremors for a very long time. Eventually the vice captain returned, drawn up to his full height and with a bit of a strut to his step.
“Heh." He grinned. "Better?”
Byakuya pulled a cloth from one of the desk drawers to dab at the blots before they could stain the wood. “Yes,” he said, with something that was not quite a sigh. “Thank you, Renji. That will do.”