she felt him long before she heard him. it was faint, but Orihime knew the spiritual power that drew ever so closer, determined and focused solely on her. her head swiveled to the side, wide-eyes landing on the hand gripping her shoulder. it didn't hurt much at all, but it was enough to jostle her, causing her steps to stumble as she was pulled to a halt. her head lifts as her body shifts slowly, attention landing on the Espada.
what she felt wasn't fear. no, it was more akin to troubled hesitance. if he was demanding that she 'fix' what was done to him, then that must mean he's a new addition to the city. which also means that he doesn't know how this place works and that she, of all people, has to explain it to him.
part of her wishes she had shopped earlier like intended. or that Rukia or Ichigo were here-- they could explain it much better than her. as much as Orihime likes to think she's good at judging someone's character, there was always that factor of unpredictability when it came to Grimmjow.
clearing her throat, she turns to face him fully. " Grimmjow.....I'm sorry, but I can't." an answer that will no doubt sit poorly with him. " What the Stars' did to you isn't something I can reverse even if I could. " that was a safe assumption at this point. even if Aizen had coveted her abilities once upon a time, she doubts they could deny the will of the ones who ran this place.
" Plus, I don't have access to all my powers right now, either."
♛ —;; " ... What do you mean," he growls slowly, the brunt of the revelation hitting him all at once. It leaves him slow to start, voice low and even an dripping with horrible, bloody promise. "You can't fix it."
The welcome committee had been given a crisp 'fuck off,' at trying to take him wherever his new 'home' was supposed to be, and that fucking 'phone' thing he'd seen people use sits as a weird weight in his pocket, a piss poor counter-balance in place of his sword. Sure, it's not his first foray into the world of the living, but it is the first time in a very long time that he feels completely and entirely dwarfed by the enormity of it. It makes him want to bare his teeth and tear.
But this woman is one of the few he's willing to be civil with, as some of thee others might have called it-- or as close as someone like him can be to that. It's the only thing stopping him from rearing back-- if he hadn't been thoroughly and entirely declawed, if she had been anyone else, there'd be blood dripping form her shoulder from puncture wounds already for such abject failure in the face of him.
That's not to say that the hold releases, or even loosens. f anything, it only tightens, snarl threatening to curl his lip. "If you're gonna be so damn useless, then show me where the hell they are- those fuckin' 'Stars'. I'll beat it outta' them."