paixaorpg | Playing House.

Characters: Matsumoto Rangiku, Ichimaru Gin
Content: Two shinigami in a city.
Setting: a room in the Actua Are (located near the center of Paixao)
Time: Late Evening.
Warnings: None yet.

She looked down at the keys of her journal and watched as the cursor blinked repeatedly back at her. She'd gotten off work almost two hours before. Her shift had ended and she'd handed in her apron, her cart and everything else that she used as a member of the Actua Are's housekeeping staff.

It wasn't exactly what she would have imagined for herself, given who she was and what she was, but anything to keep a roof over her head (and consequently, that of Gin's) was alright by her. Looking up from what she was supposed to be doing (documenting her day to day activities as she had been doing for some time now) she lifted one hand to push aside the window curtains of the room.

Between her taking shifts for housekeeping and Gin doing his job at the Porfavore's and the hotel management's generosity, she was just grateful they had a place to stay that didn't involve dusty floors or empty rooms at the top of some other building or another.

Gin. His face came to mind and she nibbled down on her bottom lip. Things had been relatively better between them ever since they talked on the rooftop awhile back. She was staying with him both to keep and eye on him and because it just felt good to be running alongside him again.

Like the good old days.

She exhaled and turned back to her journal, sat down on the bed and proceeded to type, belatedly remembering that the keys were definitely too small.

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His hand came up to catch hers as she ran her fingertips along his jawline. Eyes opened just slightly as he brought her hand to his lips, gracing those same ends with a kiss. Light, airy, just barely touching. Very like his nature, when he reflected on it.

"'m not too tired, y'see." His smile widened as he threw the first line out, waiting for the pull. Gin wasn't entirely sure she'd take the bait (Ran was very shrewd like that sometimes), but he figured he'd give it a try. After all, in their little game of "house" (and really, in their minds and maybe hearts if Ichimaru really thought about it), they were as good as married. Husband and wife, two halves of a whole.

He just kinda sorta hoped she felt the same way.

She set the journal down in a drawer and shut it softly with the use of both hands. "Oh," was her only answer when he brought up not being tired. "Well then," she started, unsure as to what was the appropriate thing to say. "Are you hungry?" She asked as she turned around, the words tumbling awkwardly from her lips. "We could ask... for something," she tried to salvage her trail of thought, but fell headlong into the spiel anyway, "down at the kitchen."

She paused briefly. Considering. "If you like."

They hadn't been alone like this in so long it felt partially alien to her. In the academy, schooling had taken up most of their time, leaving very little opportunity to be alone with each other in the way of their youth. They made friends with different people, and while remaining considerably close over the passing years, the politics of their friendship had changed in accordance to the lifestyle that they had become accustomed to. Gin had become Vice-Captain long before she had risen considerably up the ranks as a shinigami of some talent and acclaim, and then later still when he'd been promoted to Captain-rank, she had only recently been assigned as Hitsugaya's second.

She always knew that he was the stronger of the two of them despite his seemingly frail appearance. He was the more vicious and ambitious as well. He was resourceful and intelligent, while she was often just perceived as carefree and game for any moment of vice -- which usually translated to many a night drinking in the company of others such as Shunsui and Kenpachi's band of merry men.

So different, that's who they were. Gin, quiet and unnerving, and she, perhaps best known for falling asleep when paperwork was to be done. Yet they had been friends.

When news of his betrayal had reached her, she'd been in denial for quite some time. At least, that's what she had told herself repeatedly even until the bitter end. When she'd held the blade to his throat she'd pictured someone else's face, and when he'd said goodbye in that rather vague way of his, she'd blocked the image from view while recuperating under Unohana's care.

And now, here they were. Sharing a room to be sheltered from elements that never bothered them before; working odd jobs justto get by in a city that was so foreign with it's strange technologies and even strager, blank-faced people. Of course, there were others out there: people with eyes that were alive and hair that were not the color of bleached gold... but in here there was just her and him. The two of them; and that scared her.

Looking at him from where she stood, she feels just a little bit ashamed. Their friendship is tainted with ugly scars, and at the center of those scars is a man called Aizen who pretended to be dead. A man who has done much harm to the peace that she knew.

"Why did you..." she begins. And she ends her words just as abruptly.

Playing House.

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