If the Octava had to say who he liked least of all it would have to be Gin Ichimaru. Unfortunately he fell into a Clique Szayel consisted of the biggest brown-nosers in history. He scoffed just thinking about it. He had never thought he would get so worked up over seeing someone who remotely looked like the silver fox.
He angrily looked back down at his plate, trying to soothe his nerves in the outside cafe. He glanced over to Ulquiorria, who seemed a discontent as always.
“Its impossible and yet I know what I saw.” He mumbled, glowering at his brunch once again.
Outside of meetings, gatherings that involved the Espada and the rest of the Arrancar were rarely without incident, hot-tempered as the majority of their kind were.
Therefore Szayel’s yet to be voiced complaint in the cafe came as to no surprise.
Ulquiorra Cifer paused, noting the tone in the scientist’s mood having shifted to one of aggravation. Merely one among the many examples of how his comrades insisted on focusing on such trivialities.
Admittedly, this display amounted to nothing. Even more so when set in comparison to Yammy’s regular bouts of temper.
“What is it that you saw, Szayel?”