Like causes without rebels

[silent-pantera.livejournal.com]

WHO: Grimmjow ( silent_pantera ) and Melee ( martialartistic )
WHERE: The club ( El Calabazo ) after work hours
WHEN: Sunday
WARNINGS: Violence, plus both Grimmjow's, and Melee's moblile swear word zone
SUMMARY: Grimmjow is intrigued by Melee's mutant power, and wants to see if she's really that badass.
FORMAT: Quick.



[ Grimmjow jogged down the steps that led to both the backdoor of the club, as well as up into the loft apartment he shared with Ggio. Keys in hand, he unlocked the metal security door ( 'security' ha! ) and leaned in the door frame, instead. Being from a desert climate before coming to the City, Grimmjow is not keen on this 'winter' business.
But he was keen on checking out this chick. 'Melee' - and yes, he knew enough English to get the name - wasn't like most of the women he'd talked to, or seen at the club most nights. For one, she behaved as if she might have a brain in there. And two, she also talked pretty big.
But, hey. If she thought she could go toe to toe with the Sexta Espada, then Grimmjow was willing to let her have a try.

At 6'1", and 176 pounds, with electric blue hair, cat-like eyes, and the remnant of his hollow mask attached to his jaw, Grimmjow knew he looked imposing. He rather like it, too. But today he'd opted out of wearing his old Espada uniform, and instead gone with a fitted white tee shirt, and the same loose-fitting pants that he slept in - for what little he actually did sleep. Bare feet, his hollow hole covered, and his one concession to vanity; a silver chain around his neck, made him look surprisingly human. He smirked at the thought of Melee thinking he was human-strong, human-fast, or most important; only human-durable.
Well. She would find out quick, wouldn't she? ]

Comments

[martialartistic.livejournal.com]

[ By comparison, Melee didn't look half as impressive, not at first glance. She was a small Latina, several inches shorter than Grimmjow and at least forty pounds lighter. Even her boyish way of dressing -- combat boots, loose sweatpants, wifebeater under her jacket -- didn't compensate much for her size. But on second glance, Melee was nothing but wiry muscle, compact and hardened by hours on hours on hours of training.

Her powers didn't include super strength or super speed. She wasn't invulnerable. She bruised just as easy as any other human being. But her vigorous, vicious training made her an example of peak human form. Couple that with her mastery of all martial arts, and it was easier to see why she was so sure of herself.

She approached the club's backdoor, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, a little something in her step that might have been confidence. Spotting Grimmjow, Melee gave a short casual wave. ]

Hey, hermano.