[log] Concavos
Title: Talking Business, prelude
Characters: Aaronerio Arruruerie(calm_isolation ), Gin Ichimaru(lcpdragonslayer ), Grimmjow Jaggerjack(gogodgene ), Halibel(imladra ), Nnoitra Jiruga(barukode ), Sousuke Aizen(formative ), Szayel Aporro Grantz(ryokosp21 ), Ulquiorra Schiffer(simply_day )
Timeline: June 2, 1950
Rating: PG
Summary: An orphanage built by a mobster on his enemy's home turf. A good idea gone horribly wrong as someone has seen to blow it up. With no leads or clues, the Concavos call together an emergency meeting.
====
The staff had replaced the round table with an oblong one and done their best to make sure that the expected lady and gentlemen would be comfortable. The curtains cascaded down in a perfect way, the pearl chandelier had been polished for hours and the chairs were aligned in perfectly straight lines. It wasn’t the first time the higher-ups of the family had gathered here but it wasn’t exactly a very common event.
The group of waiters was fluttering, checking and rechecking their attire, assuring each other that everything would run smoothly. Yes, they were trained restaurant personnel and perfectly capable of handling an event like this - if only they weren’t so nervous…
The Capo Regimes arrived one after another and were led into the private area. The more seats were occupied, the more nervous the waiters, not being used to dealing with patrons of this calibre, became. What if they made a mistake? What if they inadvertently offended one of the- the- gentlemen?
Finally, after all the Captains had been seated, and the staff was on the brink of giving itself multiple heart attacks, the final three entered the scene. The appearance of Mister Schiffer’s emotionless face, Mister Ichimaru’s sharp smile and Mister Aizen's gentle gaze soothed the poor employees’ frazzled nerves.
As soon as Mister Aizen had settled down, a cup of tea was served to every single Concavo simultaneously. Only Mister Ichimaru received a tray of cookies to go with the tea.
“Let us begin.”
Man, everyone was so goddamn uptight around Aizen. It was kinda sickening, really. All these people scared shitless of the guy when he was just that; a guy. Not some immortal, not some god, no matter how much he wanted to be. Prick.
Grimmjow grabbed a seat, eyeballing everyone at the table. They were missing a few people, but that happened. The blue-haired sharpshooter wished he had a reason to get outta this. Grimmjow hated these fucking meetings. Most times, nothing exciting went on.
Jaggerjack looked down at the teacup in front of him, frowning. Why did Aizen serve tea to everyone? Not everyone liked fucking tea. Hell, he could really go for a beer right about now. Of course, it wasn't like the servers were going to actually serve his anything different. Great.
"Sooo, here's ta hopin' we got somethin' good to discuss, huh?"
Grimmjow raised the cup and gulped down the tea. Mostly so he didn't have to look at it anymore, but otherwise because he was fucking thirsty. At least it wasn't piss or something.
He ran his tongue along his teeth apathetically, as his best attempts at staving off restlessness faltered under the pressure that had been weighting down the room since they had all stepped through the door. Probably longer, judging by the continuous wiping of brows by the waitstaff. Nnoitra scoffed to himself; how he had been forced into this situation was not even worth fighting, for there was truly no way he would allow himself to slip onto the boss' dark side. Still, he could not help but envy people that he had earlier been sternly nudging from the building in preparations for the higher-ups to meet together.
Reaching for the tea before him, he lightly tapped his nails along the side of the glass, hardly noise to be heard by anyone else (especially with the heavy breathing coming from the black and whites that surrounded), merely enough to slightly ease the tension that was building up in his jaw.
Scanning the table, Nnoitra scrutinized- disgusted at Jaggerjack's usual animalistic displays, gaze falling to stop briefly on the spectacled scientist, glancing sidelong to the lethargic dark haired man to his right. He tightened his grip on the small teacup and brought it up from the table; holding it slightly above it's matching plate, biting his tongue to refrain from saying anything that could potentially get him into trouble, his nails began to tap once more.
She settled comfortably in her seat, looking down at the cup in front of her but not touching it yet. No need to rush. Halibel watched the steam rise from the hot tea as she ignored the fidgeting and muttering around her. If certain others couldn’t appreciate this time, she still could.
Would any of them be close to who they were today without Aizen and these meetings? No. Being here was well worth their time. And knowing them all…what were they missing out on, anyway?
Her scarf hiding her expression, Halibel glanced around the table, her eyes the only part of her moving. She watched Nnoitra vent his impatience on his cup, listened to Grimmjow finish his tea is just a few swallows. She noted everyone’s posture, where everyone’s attention was…then looked to the head of the table.
Ichimaru with his cookies, Schiffer’s calm, if expressionless, face…and Aizen.
Everything was just right. Everything that mattered, in any case. That may change as the meeting went on - that was, in fact, almost certain - but for the moment, she could relax. No problems to take care of, no pointless reputation to uphold, no inconsequential trifles that simply had to be brought to her attention right now.
Just Aizen, business, and tea.
Szayel ran a hand through his hair before bringing his cup to his mouth and breathing in the scent of the tea, his favorite kind. It smelled divine, peaceful, quite the contrast to the fidgeting, nervous specimens of humanity lining the walls, a few of his fellow Capo Regimes included.
Szayel allowed his gaze to wander over the rest of his fellows, sipping his tea as he did so. Grimmjow’s impatience was obvious, as was Nnoitra’s restlessness--no surprises here. Halibel appeared calm and detached, and Aaron‘s mask had slipped a little; all the usual suspects with their usual mannerisms. Szayel had made it his hobby studying his fellows. He knew each of their capabilities, their strengths and weaknesses. They held few surprises anymore.
He caught Nnoitra’s eye as the other man looked his way and smirked before taking a sip of his tea and directing his focus to the man of the hour, Aizen. Although Szayel did not have anything noteworthy to report, he knew Aizen had called this meeting for a reason. What, exactly, and the severity of the issue or issues would become clear in due time. Settling back in his chair, Szayel waited for the man to speak.
Aaroniero Arruruerie didn’t bother looking at his fellow Capo’s; he had seen them all before, they were boring, and he already had them all figured out. If he got lonely for one of them all he had to do was look in the mirror and mimic them to his little hearts content. Insanity--the cure for loneliness.
It was the wait staff that he focused his attention on. They were all so interesting and new; twitching beautifully, their hands clenched, their eyes tight with nerves. So the chameleon focused on them and memorized their nerves, their delicious fear, for later use.
The only thing that could pull his attention away from a new nuance of the human body were cookies and that plate of cookie set in front of Gin Ichimaru pulled the attention of all the voices in his head.
'Why does he get cookies?' The whining inside him was such an annoyance. 'We like cookies….sugar…delicious sugar….'
Aaron cleared his throat lightly and poured some milk into his tea, keeping his personal denial of sugar in tact. Sugar just made the voices stronger. He tore his attention from the treats around him, and focused solely on Aizen, denying himself his true nature.
Gin didn't really like these meetings. They were boring and he didn't have any part to play in them anyway. He dressed up for nothing to sit there and pretend to listen to nothing whilst doing nothing.
Not that his 'work days' in the office were any more productive, but that was not the point now, was it? He did work - only the kind outside of the office in the shadow of the night, working his area of expertise.
The Capo Bastone was not exactly a happy camper today; he held off on his shot for reasons he had already forgotten and all he wanted to do was go home and sleep. Or go out and play pool. Or be anywhere else but here.
While the waiters were busy pissing themselves and the caporegimes grew restless, Gin munched away at his cookies noisily. Did he care that he was getting his suit or edges of his mouth dirty? Not really. Cookies were cookies. Cleaning up could come afterwards.
The Concavo family was a very...eclectic group of individuals. There was a wide variety of faces around the table, and an even wider variety of personalities. No two of them were alike. In fact, it seemed like most of them were polar opposites of each other. It was remarkable that the room could contain them all without breaking at its seams. The wait staff could sense it. Their frantic faces and harried movements betrayed their fear. It was obvious that they understood the severity of the situation. They knew, perhaps more by intuition than by solid comprehension, that the people present were as deadly and dangerous as they were different.
Ulquiorra was also well aware of this fact. He could feel it, like an annoying tingle at the base of his spine. These meetings were necessary and, if Fate was in a good mood, they could even be productive. However, the fact remained that having all of the Capo Regimes under one roof at the same time was...risky.
There was only one thing standing in between the tense silence and some sort of disagreement. Or, one person, to be precise. Sousuke Aizen. His presence was all it took to keep the room in a hushed state of calm... at least for the time being. Still, Ulquiorra knew that the mix of people in the room was a volatile one. He studied the faces around him, wondering who would be the first to snap. They all pretended to get along for the sake of their jobs, but the majority of them had someone in the room that they’d like to kill. Ulquiorra himself had a few pieces of trash that he wouldn’t mind disposing of...
He pushed that thought aside. This meeting wasn’t a test to see how long the group of them could sit quietly without killing each other. Although... Ulquiorra did suspect that Mr. Aizen might find that sort of situation greatly entertaining. Nevertheless, there was actual business to attend to.
Wrapping his fingers around his cooling cup of tea, the consigliere waited patiently for his don to speak-or for the first sign of disorder to arise... whichever came first.
Calm amber eyes swept across the odd conglomeration of individuals at the table. To an outsider, their family must have looked like a madhouse and more often than not it was.
However, this madhouse, Aizen's madhouse, was also the most powerful fraction in this town, and could tear the city down in a heartbeat if it wanted to.
The Concavo's smile darkened, a strange spark flickering in his eyes.
"Concavos," he said, voice smooth as silk, "we're under attack."
((OOC: Hey guys, tell me if this date works for you. I figured they'd get on it within a day or two of the explosion.))
Characters: Aaronerio Arruruerie(calm_isolation ), Gin Ichimaru(lcpdragonslayer ), Grimmjow Jaggerjack(gogodgene ), Halibel(imladra ), Nnoitra Jiruga(barukode ), Sousuke Aizen(formative ), Szayel Aporro Grantz(ryokosp21 ), Ulquiorra Schiffer(simply_day )
Timeline: June 2, 1950
Rating: PG
Summary: An orphanage built by a mobster on his enemy's home turf. A good idea gone horribly wrong as someone has seen to blow it up. With no leads or clues, the Concavos call together an emergency meeting.
====
The staff had replaced the round table with an oblong one and done their best to make sure that the expected lady and gentlemen would be comfortable. The curtains cascaded down in a perfect way, the pearl chandelier had been polished for hours and the chairs were aligned in perfectly straight lines. It wasn’t the first time the higher-ups of the family had gathered here but it wasn’t exactly a very common event.
The group of waiters was fluttering, checking and rechecking their attire, assuring each other that everything would run smoothly. Yes, they were trained restaurant personnel and perfectly capable of handling an event like this - if only they weren’t so nervous…
The Capo Regimes arrived one after another and were led into the private area. The more seats were occupied, the more nervous the waiters, not being used to dealing with patrons of this calibre, became. What if they made a mistake? What if they inadvertently offended one of the- the- gentlemen?
Finally, after all the Captains had been seated, and the staff was on the brink of giving itself multiple heart attacks, the final three entered the scene. The appearance of Mister Schiffer’s emotionless face, Mister Ichimaru’s sharp smile and Mister Aizen's gentle gaze soothed the poor employees’ frazzled nerves.
As soon as Mister Aizen had settled down, a cup of tea was served to every single Concavo simultaneously. Only Mister Ichimaru received a tray of cookies to go with the tea.
“Let us begin.”
Man, everyone was so goddamn uptight around Aizen. It was kinda sickening, really. All these people scared shitless of the guy when he was just that; a guy. Not some immortal, not some god, no matter how much he wanted to be. Prick.
Grimmjow grabbed a seat, eyeballing everyone at the table. They were missing a few people, but that happened. The blue-haired sharpshooter wished he had a reason to get outta this. Grimmjow hated these fucking meetings. Most times, nothing exciting went on.
Jaggerjack looked down at the teacup in front of him, frowning. Why did Aizen serve tea to everyone? Not everyone liked fucking tea. Hell, he could really go for a beer right about now. Of course, it wasn't like the servers were going to actually serve his anything different. Great.
"Sooo, here's ta hopin' we got somethin' good to discuss, huh?"
Grimmjow raised the cup and gulped down the tea. Mostly so he didn't have to look at it anymore, but otherwise because he was fucking thirsty. At least it wasn't piss or something.
He ran his tongue along his teeth apathetically, as his best attempts at staving off restlessness faltered under the pressure that had been weighting down the room since they had all stepped through the door. Probably longer, judging by the continuous wiping of brows by the waitstaff. Nnoitra scoffed to himself; how he had been forced into this situation was not even worth fighting, for there was truly no way he would allow himself to slip onto the boss' dark side. Still, he could not help but envy people that he had earlier been sternly nudging from the building in preparations for the higher-ups to meet together.
Reaching for the tea before him, he lightly tapped his nails along the side of the glass, hardly noise to be heard by anyone else (especially with the heavy breathing coming from the black and whites that surrounded), merely enough to slightly ease the tension that was building up in his jaw.
Scanning the table, Nnoitra scrutinized- disgusted at Jaggerjack's usual animalistic displays, gaze falling to stop briefly on the spectacled scientist, glancing sidelong to the lethargic dark haired man to his right. He tightened his grip on the small teacup and brought it up from the table; holding it slightly above it's matching plate, biting his tongue to refrain from saying anything that could potentially get him into trouble, his nails began to tap once more.
She settled comfortably in her seat, looking down at the cup in front of her but not touching it yet. No need to rush. Halibel watched the steam rise from the hot tea as she ignored the fidgeting and muttering around her. If certain others couldn’t appreciate this time, she still could.
Would any of them be close to who they were today without Aizen and these meetings? No. Being here was well worth their time. And knowing them all…what were they missing out on, anyway?
Her scarf hiding her expression, Halibel glanced around the table, her eyes the only part of her moving. She watched Nnoitra vent his impatience on his cup, listened to Grimmjow finish his tea is just a few swallows. She noted everyone’s posture, where everyone’s attention was…then looked to the head of the table.
Ichimaru with his cookies, Schiffer’s calm, if expressionless, face…and Aizen.
Everything was just right. Everything that mattered, in any case. That may change as the meeting went on - that was, in fact, almost certain - but for the moment, she could relax. No problems to take care of, no pointless reputation to uphold, no inconsequential trifles that simply had to be brought to her attention right now.
Just Aizen, business, and tea.
Szayel ran a hand through his hair before bringing his cup to his mouth and breathing in the scent of the tea, his favorite kind. It smelled divine, peaceful, quite the contrast to the fidgeting, nervous specimens of humanity lining the walls, a few of his fellow Capo Regimes included.
Szayel allowed his gaze to wander over the rest of his fellows, sipping his tea as he did so. Grimmjow’s impatience was obvious, as was Nnoitra’s restlessness--no surprises here. Halibel appeared calm and detached, and Aaron‘s mask had slipped a little; all the usual suspects with their usual mannerisms. Szayel had made it his hobby studying his fellows. He knew each of their capabilities, their strengths and weaknesses. They held few surprises anymore.
He caught Nnoitra’s eye as the other man looked his way and smirked before taking a sip of his tea and directing his focus to the man of the hour, Aizen. Although Szayel did not have anything noteworthy to report, he knew Aizen had called this meeting for a reason. What, exactly, and the severity of the issue or issues would become clear in due time. Settling back in his chair, Szayel waited for the man to speak.
Aaroniero Arruruerie didn’t bother looking at his fellow Capo’s; he had seen them all before, they were boring, and he already had them all figured out. If he got lonely for one of them all he had to do was look in the mirror and mimic them to his little hearts content. Insanity--the cure for loneliness.
It was the wait staff that he focused his attention on. They were all so interesting and new; twitching beautifully, their hands clenched, their eyes tight with nerves. So the chameleon focused on them and memorized their nerves, their delicious fear, for later use.
The only thing that could pull his attention away from a new nuance of the human body were cookies and that plate of cookie set in front of Gin Ichimaru pulled the attention of all the voices in his head.
'Why does he get cookies?' The whining inside him was such an annoyance. 'We like cookies….sugar…delicious sugar….'
Aaron cleared his throat lightly and poured some milk into his tea, keeping his personal denial of sugar in tact. Sugar just made the voices stronger. He tore his attention from the treats around him, and focused solely on Aizen, denying himself his true nature.
Gin didn't really like these meetings. They were boring and he didn't have any part to play in them anyway. He dressed up for nothing to sit there and pretend to listen to nothing whilst doing nothing.
Not that his 'work days' in the office were any more productive, but that was not the point now, was it? He did work - only the kind outside of the office in the shadow of the night, working his area of expertise.
The Capo Bastone was not exactly a happy camper today; he held off on his shot for reasons he had already forgotten and all he wanted to do was go home and sleep. Or go out and play pool. Or be anywhere else but here.
While the waiters were busy pissing themselves and the caporegimes grew restless, Gin munched away at his cookies noisily. Did he care that he was getting his suit or edges of his mouth dirty? Not really. Cookies were cookies. Cleaning up could come afterwards.
The Concavo family was a very...eclectic group of individuals. There was a wide variety of faces around the table, and an even wider variety of personalities. No two of them were alike. In fact, it seemed like most of them were polar opposites of each other. It was remarkable that the room could contain them all without breaking at its seams. The wait staff could sense it. Their frantic faces and harried movements betrayed their fear. It was obvious that they understood the severity of the situation. They knew, perhaps more by intuition than by solid comprehension, that the people present were as deadly and dangerous as they were different.
Ulquiorra was also well aware of this fact. He could feel it, like an annoying tingle at the base of his spine. These meetings were necessary and, if Fate was in a good mood, they could even be productive. However, the fact remained that having all of the Capo Regimes under one roof at the same time was...risky.
There was only one thing standing in between the tense silence and some sort of disagreement. Or, one person, to be precise. Sousuke Aizen. His presence was all it took to keep the room in a hushed state of calm... at least for the time being. Still, Ulquiorra knew that the mix of people in the room was a volatile one. He studied the faces around him, wondering who would be the first to snap. They all pretended to get along for the sake of their jobs, but the majority of them had someone in the room that they’d like to kill. Ulquiorra himself had a few pieces of trash that he wouldn’t mind disposing of...
He pushed that thought aside. This meeting wasn’t a test to see how long the group of them could sit quietly without killing each other. Although... Ulquiorra did suspect that Mr. Aizen might find that sort of situation greatly entertaining. Nevertheless, there was actual business to attend to.
Wrapping his fingers around his cooling cup of tea, the consigliere waited patiently for his don to speak-or for the first sign of disorder to arise... whichever came first.
Calm amber eyes swept across the odd conglomeration of individuals at the table. To an outsider, their family must have looked like a madhouse and more often than not it was.
However, this madhouse, Aizen's madhouse, was also the most powerful fraction in this town, and could tear the city down in a heartbeat if it wanted to.
The Concavo's smile darkened, a strange spark flickering in his eyes.
"Concavos," he said, voice smooth as silk, "we're under attack."
((OOC: Hey guys, tell me if this date works for you. I figured they'd get on it within a day or two of the explosion.))