There's something almost therapeutic about taking his time like this. No rush. No fuss. The wall of resistance that his prey presents is a husk, an egg shell underfoot to be shattered. Shattered and smeared into the dirt, the frail exterior and the delicate membrane broken underneath for the ones who scavenge the wreck.
He is good to his pack. He shares. Sometimes they'd rather he didn't, but he shares. They have to grow big and strong, and though Hisagi hisses when Renji presses his thumb down on the smaller arrancar's neck to force open his throat and Kira spits and spats when Renji approaches with a fist full of hearty meat, they will grow big and strong.
Not Her, though- She takes her pound of flesh as she demands it.
Another pit to fill for another day.
His prey (though perhaps 'victim' is more appropriate at this point. Whichever you please) doesn't have much left in them. A lesser arrancar- they are so rare among this territory. There are a lot of tracks in the sand from where Renji left his pack to hunt, and now he, alone, is rewarded with the red plush and the aromatic, metal syrup that is free for him to scoop out of the body like feed from a trowel. Why rush what you can enjoy? A few spare breathes left in it before the gaping maw opening up at the shoulder and ripped down the side, exposing the soft meat, leaves the body lightless and lifeless.
A new smell reaches his tongue, and draws a g r o w l. A crack of his teeth grinding. Who's that who found him? Who told? Who told Her where he would be he will rip Kira's tongue out of his throat-
It's not her. It's someone different. Someone else who's powerful. Friend or food or ((both))? Renji recognizes that pop of blue. He saw it the night before he was killed. What are the odds?
"Hungry?" A one word offer at the approaching loner, spat over a lump of raw and oozing meat that is quickly losing time. A body only stays warm for so long. "Don't tell me you're one a' those guys who's too proud t'share."