"listen, i know this shirt probably looks kind of dumb, but my sister made it, okay? you have to wear it. she'll be sad if you don't."
Even looking at the thing makes his skin crawl; disdain would be putting the look on the arrancar’s face lightly. Why him? Why not Ichigo? Any other time he would poke the substitute in the ribs for replacing him as the youngest Kurosaki’s favourite but in this case-- he’s not entirely sure he appreciates the position. Whatever it’s made up looks itchy, and the only discernible patterns are weird blue little-- are those hearts.
He wants to die. Again. Not even a little bit. Entirely.
It looks absolutely huge too (although it doesn’t take much to dwarf his relatively thin frame, the broadness of his shoulders be damned), but all in weird ways; like it can’t make up its mind what size it wants to be. It’s clearly an early venture into something other than repairing a seam or a hole, but it bars him from the ‘it’s too small’ excuse incredibly easily.
There’s an increasingly long silence permeating the room, in which he hopes his thoughts are loud enough and glare terrible enough that the thing spontaneously combusts. He’s never been that lucky though so it’s no wonder he’s not in this case either.
A long suffering sigh.
“An hour. Tops. That’s it. If I gotta stay in that thing any longer I’m lettin’ this shitty gigai fall like a pile a’ bricks in your living room.”
