towerofanimus | This post isn't late; what are you talking about?

Characters: The greatest cotton candy creeper ever, and ~*~YOU~*~
Setting: 1-06, then wandering around the Tower. Specify where you want to meet him in the subject, or just leave blank if no preference.
Format: Whichever; I'll match you.
Summary: Szayel awakens in the Tower, and he's not entirely thrilled about it.
Warnings: Interactions with Szayel always have the potential to dissolve into freaky science. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

It had taken entirely too long for Szayel to be able to move once consciousness returned to him. That was upsetting enough as it was, but to awaken in a strange place that clearly was not any location in either Hueco Mundo or Soul Society and noticing his Vice Captain was absent as well? That was entirely unsettling.

Waking up in a garish white skin suit did not help improve his mood at all, and his displeasure only increased when he located a mirror. He had been collared like some kind of animal... or one of his specimens. Unacceptable. His uniform was quickly located and put back on (any potential audience to his stripping be damned), and he was almost wrapping his haori around himself protectively at first, as silly as that was. Of course he attempted to remove the collar, but that proved itself a fruitless effort; at least it matched his sash, but he still did not approve.

Once he had calmed himself from his initial reaction to his new surroundings, he felt composed enough to head out of the room, his sword resting comfortably in its usual place by his side. If someone thought it a good idea to take him away from his home, he was at least going to get a good idea of his surroundings before he informed him how bad of an idea that was.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Haw?" The sound came out as he tilted his head like some confused bird. He didn't particularly seem to appreciate the answer given to him. Shrugging his shoulders, he decided that he should oblige. He's been a lot more understanding of the sass that he's been getting because of how he felt when he first arrived. The idea that this is odd for most and should be dealt with some delicacy. While he didn't have that, he could at least show some patience even if his response was hardly showing it.

"More specific? What more do you need to know to answer?"

Szayel reached up with a gloved hand, delicately readjusting the white rimmed glasses balanced on his nose.

"Obviously, I will need to know if swords have a function other than their intended purpose, because I can't fathom why any individual would otherwise need to ask 'what's with' a sword."

The "idiot" tacked on to the end of that sentence isn't said, but it's obviously still there.

And just because he was being patient didn't mean that he was gonna take much from those that were coming around. He'd apologize if he'd have to, but what he really was promising to those he met -- even if they weren't aware of it -- was not starting a fight.

"'Course it has another purpose. Purpose of makin' small men feel big." He hissed his laughter, before tossing his head back up to smile wide. "Or didn't ya know about that?"

Szayel rolled his eyes, letting out a less than amused snort.

"Obviously, I work with plenty that believe their ability to wield a weapon makes them invincible," he replied dryly. "It really is quite disgusting."

"Not quite what I meant, but that's also another function, I guess." He snickered once more before straightening his posture. "It's good that yer able to see that it's disgusting."

Szayel hardly looked amused; in fact, he looked exceptionally bored.

"And I suppose I should be thankful to have your approval," he replied dryly.

"You can be however the fuck you wanna be." He shrugged dramatically, dropping his back back like he was bending backwards. "I didn't say it for you to be thankful or anything. Ya said somethin' I agreed with so I agreed."

"Yes, yes, wonderful," Szayel replied, letting out a bored sigh. "Do you have anything else to say that's actually worth listening to?"

"Not sure, do you have anything to offer?" He raised a thin eyebrow. "I'm willin' to forgive yer sass right now 'cause this shit is crazy, but don't think that yer foolin' many."

"Oh, you're willing to forgive me?" Szayel replied, raising an eyebrow, sarcasm obvious in his voice. "That's entirely kind of you, but I require no such forgiveness from a mere human."

"What? You some kind of elf, too?" His gaze settled upon the pink hair as he shrugged his shoulders slightly. "What is with you lot being so pissy?"

Szayel outright laughed at that. "An elf?" he asked. "Don't insult me with such fantastical accusations. I am a shinigami, and a captain at that."

"Haw? A shinigami?" His head tilted slightly, like a dog hearing some unfamiliar noise. "And you call that not fantastical? What the hell? Captain?"

Szayel let out an annoyed sigh; that 'haw' sound this fool was making was really getting on his nerves at this point. He wanted to shove poison down his throat every time he said it; the fun kind that turns one's saliva into a bubbly mess.

"Must I explain myself?" he asked, smoothing his haori. "A shinigami is quite a common thing, though there are some individuals of exceptional worth."

He's referring to himself, of course, and he makes a grandly exaggerated bow before continuing. "I am Szayel Aporro Granz, Captain of the Eighth Division of the Gotei Thirteen, and Director of the Research and Development Division.

Even though Szayel started to explain, Majima had shrugged immediately after the question if he had to have anything explained to him. He scratched his eyebrow a little, not bored, but just processing the information given to him. Common to this guy's world. I ain't too sure about that shit for my world. But I am hopin' for a nice place for Yasuko.

"Quite the title, didn't even know that ya lot needed divisions." He sniffled a bit as his nose felt like it waswhen running a little. Of course, he had been out in the meadow floor which was destroying his face occasionally due to his allergies, but he still liked being outdoors. "Nice for ya, I am sure. So, do ya have to dye yer hair to look like that or is it natural?"

A beat. "Right. Goro Majima, patriarch of the Majima Family part of the Tojo Clan." He sighed loudly due to the fact that he had to remember his world was surviving some apocalyptic event. Kiryu would ensure the protection of all he could, so there wasn't anything he could worry about. Too much, anyway. "Head of the Majima Construction, I guess."

"Of course we do," Szayel replied dryly. "How else would one organize a militaristic organization?"

Seriously, how stupid is this guy? And... he actually had to ask if his hair was dyed? Szayel narrowed his eyes, insulted.

"Natural, of course," he snapped. "And I really don't care who you are, though if you're the head of your Family, I worry about those under you."

"'ch, shinigami are military," He rolled his eyes, then. It was weird how all these fantasical creatures all seemed to be part of some army. What the hell was that all about? Elves, he supposed, had to worry about people stealin't their cookies or some shit. But what did shinigami have to worry about? His gaze slipped up to the ceiling - something a lot bigger than even this clown's ego. Pride was one thing, but a person let it completely blind them as far as he was concerned.

"Hm, shinigami are really odd." Majima shrugged his shoulders once before just accepting that answer. Clown gave his fancy titles so felt to honor that to give his own. Shinigami got no manners or sense of honor, it seems. "Haw? Yer not the first to worry about that sort of shit, but my boys are taught well and will suevive whatever fallout may happen in my world.

I hope ya can say the same for yers." He tilted his head, then. "And not be puttin' on airs about it."

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