[Log] Gin Ichimaru, Ulquiorra Schiffer
Title: Business Talk
Characters: Gin (lcpdragonslayer), Ulquiorra (day_eight)
Timeline: April 10, 1950
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Gin and Ulquiorra do a bit of planning.
With his hands nicely seated in his pockets, he casually strolled down the corridor of the office, his face graced with his usual smile. There was a little bounce in his step - it was a good day, after all - and soon enough he arrived at the door to Ulquiorra's office.
He twisted the doorknob open and stepped in, his smile widening at Ulquiorra as he pushed the door close behind him. His curious gaze wandered around Ulquiorra's office. He was duly reminded that he rarely came here - Ulquiorra was not exactly a welcoming host, or perhaps he was just disliked by the consigliere - and there was always something new, or a change, every time he visited this office.
What caught his attention was the three swords displayed on the window frame. It was a display set, of course, but swords... were sharp... and shiny... He approached the set of small swords, and eyed it with child-like amusement.
He picked up the shortest one in the set, and unsheathed it slowly. Briefly, dull blue irises stared into the metal, at the reflection staring back at him. Those empty blue pools disappeared again, and he unsheathed the miniature sword completely.
Hm. It was rather light. He flicked his wrist and toyed with the sword momentarily, the metal blade swishing through the air.
The sword stilled, and he touched the cool steel, running his thumb over the sharp edge. It was dull, but he supposed Ulquiorra could still use it as... a letter opener... Maybe.
The day was almost halfway over, but Ulquiorra still had plenty to do before he could even think about taking a break. He glanced up at the clock, mentally giving himself a deadline to finish his current project by. Forty-five minutes. In forty-five minutes he would complete the blueprint he was working on and get started on the next one. Tightening his grip on his pencil, he leaned in closer to the paper and focussed on his task.
Well... that is to say... he tried to.
Gin's ability to pick the worst times to drop by was a bit uncanny. Ulquiorra had his suspicions that the second-in-command actually tried to be inconvenient. So when that smiling face poked into the room without so much as a knock at the door, the architect simply blinked and kept at his work. Perhaps Gin would go away if ignored... like some pesky, attention-craving child. Actually, that was pretty close to the way Ulquiorra would describe the Capo Bastone-not that he would say such a thing out loud, of course.
The consigliere's face stayed turned down towards his work, even as his eyes moved to follow Gin across the room. The decorative sword set had been a gift from someone who had discovered his love of all things with a blade. However, the katana, wakizashi, and tanto were only replicas, not things to be used in real combat. His hand slid down to the underside of his desk, to where his real wakizashi was secured safely to the wood above his legs. The Japanese short sword was only twenty-four inches in length, but it was deadly sharp.
Something across the room flickered, making Ulquiorra raise his head. He looked over just in time to see the silver haired man brandish the display tanto and run a thumb over its blade. The architect watched blankly, waiting silently for Gin to put the toy away; he did not have time to waste on anything that was not directly related to him or his work. He could only hope that Gin had stopped by on official business, and not out of a desire to play with his office's adornments.
"Did you have something to discuss with me, Mr. Ichimaru?" he asked, his quiet monotone breaking the previous silence of the room. "Or did you simply come here for... entertainment?"
He perked up as his name floated through the room, turning to face Ulquiorra. He had waltzed in as if the consigliere did not exist - he hated to admit that Ulquiorra would be more important than the daisho and tanto set, but he paid the kid his due respects, sheathing the sword and replacing it back onto the stand.
"Don't be a bunny, consiglieri. If I was lookin' fer some entertainment, yer office would be the last place I'd be visitin'."
That comment generated a string of ideas as to what places he would rather be at, and what he would rather be doing at the moment than hang out at this boring little place with this boring little man, doing boring little things and talking about boring little issues.
He wandered over to Ulquiorra and peered over his shoulder, to examine the drawing he was working on.
"Wow. That's darb, bo. Must be eggs in the coffee fer ya tho'. Alls I ever do is doodle and draw stick figures. N' croak things. N' get snowed up. N' stuff..."
The sword made it safely back to its stand in one piece-a miracle, really. Gin was not clumsy, but Ulquiorra would not have put it past him to break something, just to see it fall to pieces. He could never decide if Gin's personality annoyed or disturbed him. It didn't help that the fiendish man could switch between psychotic and childlike in the blink of an eye. However, for all of Gin's personality quirks, Ulquiorra could not deny that Sousuke Aizen seemed to have a lot of faith in him. He could not easily dismiss someone who had so much of the Don's trust. No, he owed it to Senor Aizen to be respectful to the second-in-command... even if it was a bit of a chore.
Setting his jaw, the dark haired man pressed his fingertips together and rested them under his chin. The way Gin spoke grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. He did not understand the need for such absurd slang. Personally, he refrained from using any except for in extreme cases. Resisting the temptation to rub his temples, he kept his fingers by his chin and his eyes on Gin.
It did not bother him in the least that the eccentric man did not find him amusing. He was well aware that if Gin found him interesting, he would have to put up with more impromptu... visits. The architect was perfectly happy being boring... and Gin-free. "Mi spiace, e' un peccato," he answered. If Gin was going to speak in a different language, then so was he.
He tensed as the silver haired man proceeded to hover over him. Fighting the urge to move away, he continued to stare blankly ahead, not giving Gin the satisfaction of knowing that he was beginning to get irritated. More of that heavy slang came from above him, causing his expression to harden fractionally.
"Tu fare una figuraccia, ma non importa," he murmured, picking up his pencil and observing the lead. He didn't really care what Gin did during his free time, as long as it did not affect him or his job. Leaning forward, he resumed his work, trying his best to ignore the looming presence behind him. "Forgive me," he said politely, "but I have some things to get done. Was there a reason for this unexpected visit?"
(( Mi spiace, e' un peccato = I'm sorry, what a shame.
Tu fare una figuraccia, ma non importa = You make a fool of yourself, but it doesn't really matter. ))
He folded his arms and pouted, leaning against the wall behind him behind Ulquiorra's seat. His knowledge of Italian was limited - but it didn't mean the consigliere should say mean things about him in it. Ulquiorra should at least position himself behind his back if he wanted to badmouth him.
"Ye know, yer the only person who does any real work around here. S'not like ya have to or anythin', so, why do ya do it anyway?"
His gaze caught on to the next shiny thing on the table - a shiny, silver zippo lighter. Leaning over a little, his hand, like a spider, crawled towards and grabbed it, examining the lighter. It was light - and it gleamed from the sunlight shining through the window.
He shook it a little, and continued spinning it in his hand. He sighed - It made him want a cigarette, but he had left his stash back at his table, and the only thing he had on him was... well, it was not ideal to take at this time of the day.
He flicked the lid of the zippo lighter open, watching the flickering flame. He grinned, moving his other hand slowly towards the lighter. Ever so slowly, he passed each of his fingers through the flame, feeling the extreme heat engulf him, the pain bordering on unbearable searing his nerves.
When the last finger trailed away, he flicked his wrist and the lid flipped back close, and he lowered the lighter onto the table, shaking his hand and blowing onto his fingers.
"So. What're you doin'?"
It seemed as if Gin was not going to answer the question any time soon. Ulquiorra refrained from asking it a third time and resorted to focusing all of his attention on the blueprint in front of him. He was just getting back into the flow of things when a rather absurd question pulled him out of his thoughts. Why? The reason behind his diligence and hard work seemed rather obvious to him, but he was not too surprised that the Capo Bastone failed to see it. However, he did not feel like explaining himself at that particular moment, especially not to someone as mischievous as Gin. Besides, it was not his fault that everyone else was lazy and incompetent. He was only doing his job.
Dragging the pencil across the paper slowly, Ulquiorra continued his work and tried to ignore the man behind him as much as he could. He halted, his pencil stilling mid-stroke, when the lighter that he kept on his desk was whisked away. Although he did not smoke, he kept an ashtray and lighter available so that his office would be prepared in case a client or a visitor did. Turning his head to the side, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Gin proceeded to pass his fingers through the flame. He could not believe that his work day was being interrupted by such nonsense.
As if to reiterate the fact that the little visit was all just a game, Gin asked something that was completely ridiculous. Ulquiorra returned his attention to the prints in front of him and remained silent. If Gin insisted on asking something so obvious, he would insist on not answering. A moment or two went by before he stiffened and said, "I believe I asked you something, first." He wanted to find out if the silver haired man was there for a reason, and what that reason was. If Gin was there just to spite him, then... his hand strayed back to the sword kept under his desk.
He made a whining noise and pouted, tempted to kick Ulquiorra's chair but deciding not to in case it bumped Ulquiorra's hand and destroyed the perfectly straight line.
Actually... Come to think of it...
He watched Ulquiorra's hand stray under the table and decided against it. He kept his gun under his table, and presuming Ulquiorra did something similar, it would be best to not aggravate the consigliere.
Any further, anyway. After all he came unarmed.
"Fine. Be a party pooper. I was only tryin' ta make conversation..."
He walked back around Ulquiorra's table and sat at the vacant seat opposite from the architect, wriggling a little, making himself comfortable as he crossed his legs and propped his arms up on the armrests, entwining his fingers.
"So like, ye, we was meant ta be talkin' 'bout this whole gamblin' business." He figured he did not need to elaborate - Ulquiorra was there during the family meeting.
Ulquiorra doubted Gin knew how to carry on a normal conversation. Setting down his pencil, he shifted in his chair and rested his elbow on one of the armrests. Once the other man was seated in front of him, he leveled his stare and regarded him with cold, indifferent eyes. This was going to be a trying encounter.
"Si, oviamente," he replied, swallowing the urge to say something about Gin's manner of speaking. Leave it to Aizen's right hand man to make something so crucial sound so... informal.
He hoped that the devious man could remain serious for a few minutes so that they could give the topic the attention it deserved.
"I am sure that you are well aware," he began, idly tapping his fingers on the edge of his desk, "that The Black Cat Lounge is surpassing Cinq in profits, both legal and illicit."
Cinq was Sousuke Aizen's club. The Black Cat Lounge was Kisuke Urahara's. They were both posh, well known places to go for alcohol and dancing. More importantly, however, they both offered 'back rooms' where the real money making took place - gambling. The two clubs were rivals in a business that wasn't supposed to exist. It was a delicate matter, to say the least.
"Somehow, we need to figure out how and why we are losing customers to Mr. Urahara." Since it was his job to focus on the well being of the family, the consigliere already had an idea as to how they could investigate the matter further. However, he wanted to see if Gin had anything in mind, as well. Although the Capo Bastone was not one of his favorite people, Ulquiorra had to admit that he occasionally came up with some decent ideas. There was always the possibility of getting a brilliant suggestion thrown in with all the impractical ones.
(( Si, oviamente = yes, of course ))
He rubbed at his jaw, his gaze growing distant as Ulquiorra talked. He was listening, of course, but thinking as well. He was well aware of the profit margins of Cinq, and he had a rough idea of what kind of money Kisuke was making at Black Cat. For two places with similar customer bases which offer similar services, the difference was indeed significant.
"Well there's plenty o' ways to solve that... We could always burn Black Cat down... Bump K'suke off... Or press a bean-shooter against his noodle and make 'im spill his lil' tricks..."
But of course, Ulquiorra was probably not in favour of letting him go to Black Cat and starting a riot there - and the Don was probably not in favour of that either.
"But ya know, easiest way ta learn sommin' is through observation n' imitation. We could jus' send in a rat. We got lots o' guys sittin' around doin' nuffin anyway."
Regardless, he still quite liked the idea of barging in to Black Cat and shooting everyone. It would be a whole lot more fun.
Ah... how brilliant. Ulquiorra should have known that the first thing out of Gin's mouth would have been something violent and impractical. He could only imagine what the man would do if he was given the opportunity to act as he pleased. The consigliere suspected that over half of the city would be either burned down or bullet-torn within a few short hours. Simply shooting at things was tactless and rash. They needed something subtle... something that would give them the upper hand... something...
Precisely.
Ulquiorra's eyes widened ever so slightly. He had actually been thinking that exact same thing. It appeared as if Gin could apply himself, occasionally. The dark haired man leaned back in is chair and folded his hands on his lap. "Sending in a spy seems to be the best option, yes," he agreed, looking past the man in front of him and thinking for a bit longer. "But it would not be wise to simply send in any random character."
He brushed a piece of lint of his pants and mentally sorted through his list of soldati. The spy would have to be someone they could trust. It would have to be someone either fairly new or low in the ranks, since most of the higher-ups would immediately be recognized as affiliates of the family. Sending in someone who could be linked to them would be risky. "Do you have anyone in mind?" he asked, returning his attention back to Gin.
He grinned in self-approval - so the consigliere did find him to be useful. Maybe they could get along after all.
Maybe.
Not that he needed Ulquiorra's seal of approval to do anything, anyway. He got away with most of the things he did - he did, though, try his best not to burden Mister Aizen with the glorious escapades he went on every once in a while.
To be honest, he was only very familiar with the Capo Regimes, and he was aware Kisuke would know most if not all of their faces. The qualities 'new' and 'trusted' rarely went together, and to find someone like that in the cosa nostra...
"Wells we got a bunch of soldiers, but they're all palookas, to my knowledge... Couldn't hold a cover fer more than a couple o' days..."
He thought about it a little longer, and then he made a soft noise and perked up.
"What about that new bird? Wit' the scars on his face? He ain't hinky, and he ain't a boob." He was not entirely sure he trusted him, as of yet, but if anything happened, he was expendible. He was new, after all - although, really, anyone was expendible.
Scars? There were a few soldati with scars on their faces. Ulquiorra shifted in his chair and tried to think. He knew the faces and names of practically every man under him, but there were so many that it sometimes took him a minute to think of a specific one. Someone new...
"Do you mean Shuuhei Hisagi?" he asked, finally coming up with the name that belonged to the face he had in mind. Shuuhei was fairly new, and had three parallel scars running down one side of his face. Ulquiorra did not have much knowledge about the man, but knew enough to come to the conclusion that he would probably be a good a choice as any.
"He would certainly do," he agreed. The man seemed to be a quick thinker and an easy adapter, two things that were vital in playing such a role. "I suppose you would like me to speak with him," he said, picking up his pencil and tapping it on his desk. "We should really try to get this moving as quickly as possible. Il tempo e i soldi, after all."
(( Il tempo e i soldi = Time is money ))
Shuuhei Hisagi? What kind of a name was that? Hell if he knew what the names of those underlings were - there were probably some he had never even seen before.
But the fact that Ulquiorra found the man to be fitting meant that either they were referring to the same person, or the consigliere had a better idea as to who to send. No matter.
"Yeah, sure, that guy."
At Ulquiorra's approval, he pushed back his seat a little and stood, slipping his hands back into his pockets. Sounds like the day's business was settled.
"Well... Seein' as ya offered - sure you can go talk to 'im."
He grinned.
"Thanks bo."
He walked around towards the door of Ulquiorra's office, twisting the doorknob open, poking his head out of the doorway. Looking left, and then right, he stepped out onto the empty corridor. Everyone seemed to be busy working...
Maybe he'll go pester Mista Bossman for a cookie.
Words could not describe the relief that Ulquiorra felt when the other man stood to leave. A part of him had expected Gin to stay, if only out of spite. Barely blinking, he watched the man depart, taking a deep breath once he was finally alone. Picking up his pencil, he scanned the print in front of him and tried to find where he had last left off. His hand moved fluidly across the paper as he began to get back into the steady rhythm of his work.
He wondered briefly if Shuuhei Hisagi would give them his full cooperation. It was not like he had much of a choice. Soldati had only one function in the Cosa Nostra, and that was to carry out the will of the higher ups. Hisagi would do as told, if he knew what was good for him. Ulquiorra straightened his back and reached for a ruler. He would just have to make that fact completely clear when they met to 'discuss' the job.
Characters: Gin (lcpdragonslayer), Ulquiorra (day_eight)
Timeline: April 10, 1950
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Gin and Ulquiorra do a bit of planning.
With his hands nicely seated in his pockets, he casually strolled down the corridor of the office, his face graced with his usual smile. There was a little bounce in his step - it was a good day, after all - and soon enough he arrived at the door to Ulquiorra's office.
He twisted the doorknob open and stepped in, his smile widening at Ulquiorra as he pushed the door close behind him. His curious gaze wandered around Ulquiorra's office. He was duly reminded that he rarely came here - Ulquiorra was not exactly a welcoming host, or perhaps he was just disliked by the consigliere - and there was always something new, or a change, every time he visited this office.
What caught his attention was the three swords displayed on the window frame. It was a display set, of course, but swords... were sharp... and shiny... He approached the set of small swords, and eyed it with child-like amusement.
He picked up the shortest one in the set, and unsheathed it slowly. Briefly, dull blue irises stared into the metal, at the reflection staring back at him. Those empty blue pools disappeared again, and he unsheathed the miniature sword completely.
Hm. It was rather light. He flicked his wrist and toyed with the sword momentarily, the metal blade swishing through the air.
The sword stilled, and he touched the cool steel, running his thumb over the sharp edge. It was dull, but he supposed Ulquiorra could still use it as... a letter opener... Maybe.
The day was almost halfway over, but Ulquiorra still had plenty to do before he could even think about taking a break. He glanced up at the clock, mentally giving himself a deadline to finish his current project by. Forty-five minutes. In forty-five minutes he would complete the blueprint he was working on and get started on the next one. Tightening his grip on his pencil, he leaned in closer to the paper and focussed on his task.
Well... that is to say... he tried to.
Gin's ability to pick the worst times to drop by was a bit uncanny. Ulquiorra had his suspicions that the second-in-command actually tried to be inconvenient. So when that smiling face poked into the room without so much as a knock at the door, the architect simply blinked and kept at his work. Perhaps Gin would go away if ignored... like some pesky, attention-craving child. Actually, that was pretty close to the way Ulquiorra would describe the Capo Bastone-not that he would say such a thing out loud, of course.
The consigliere's face stayed turned down towards his work, even as his eyes moved to follow Gin across the room. The decorative sword set had been a gift from someone who had discovered his love of all things with a blade. However, the katana, wakizashi, and tanto were only replicas, not things to be used in real combat. His hand slid down to the underside of his desk, to where his real wakizashi was secured safely to the wood above his legs. The Japanese short sword was only twenty-four inches in length, but it was deadly sharp.
Something across the room flickered, making Ulquiorra raise his head. He looked over just in time to see the silver haired man brandish the display tanto and run a thumb over its blade. The architect watched blankly, waiting silently for Gin to put the toy away; he did not have time to waste on anything that was not directly related to him or his work. He could only hope that Gin had stopped by on official business, and not out of a desire to play with his office's adornments.
"Did you have something to discuss with me, Mr. Ichimaru?" he asked, his quiet monotone breaking the previous silence of the room. "Or did you simply come here for... entertainment?"
He perked up as his name floated through the room, turning to face Ulquiorra. He had waltzed in as if the consigliere did not exist - he hated to admit that Ulquiorra would be more important than the daisho and tanto set, but he paid the kid his due respects, sheathing the sword and replacing it back onto the stand.
"Don't be a bunny, consiglieri. If I was lookin' fer some entertainment, yer office would be the last place I'd be visitin'."
That comment generated a string of ideas as to what places he would rather be at, and what he would rather be doing at the moment than hang out at this boring little place with this boring little man, doing boring little things and talking about boring little issues.
He wandered over to Ulquiorra and peered over his shoulder, to examine the drawing he was working on.
"Wow. That's darb, bo. Must be eggs in the coffee fer ya tho'. Alls I ever do is doodle and draw stick figures. N' croak things. N' get snowed up. N' stuff..."
The sword made it safely back to its stand in one piece-a miracle, really. Gin was not clumsy, but Ulquiorra would not have put it past him to break something, just to see it fall to pieces. He could never decide if Gin's personality annoyed or disturbed him. It didn't help that the fiendish man could switch between psychotic and childlike in the blink of an eye. However, for all of Gin's personality quirks, Ulquiorra could not deny that Sousuke Aizen seemed to have a lot of faith in him. He could not easily dismiss someone who had so much of the Don's trust. No, he owed it to Senor Aizen to be respectful to the second-in-command... even if it was a bit of a chore.
Setting his jaw, the dark haired man pressed his fingertips together and rested them under his chin. The way Gin spoke grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. He did not understand the need for such absurd slang. Personally, he refrained from using any except for in extreme cases. Resisting the temptation to rub his temples, he kept his fingers by his chin and his eyes on Gin.
It did not bother him in the least that the eccentric man did not find him amusing. He was well aware that if Gin found him interesting, he would have to put up with more impromptu... visits. The architect was perfectly happy being boring... and Gin-free. "Mi spiace, e' un peccato," he answered. If Gin was going to speak in a different language, then so was he.
He tensed as the silver haired man proceeded to hover over him. Fighting the urge to move away, he continued to stare blankly ahead, not giving Gin the satisfaction of knowing that he was beginning to get irritated. More of that heavy slang came from above him, causing his expression to harden fractionally.
"Tu fare una figuraccia, ma non importa," he murmured, picking up his pencil and observing the lead. He didn't really care what Gin did during his free time, as long as it did not affect him or his job. Leaning forward, he resumed his work, trying his best to ignore the looming presence behind him. "Forgive me," he said politely, "but I have some things to get done. Was there a reason for this unexpected visit?"
(( Mi spiace, e' un peccato = I'm sorry, what a shame.
Tu fare una figuraccia, ma non importa = You make a fool of yourself, but it doesn't really matter. ))
He folded his arms and pouted, leaning against the wall behind him behind Ulquiorra's seat. His knowledge of Italian was limited - but it didn't mean the consigliere should say mean things about him in it. Ulquiorra should at least position himself behind his back if he wanted to badmouth him.
"Ye know, yer the only person who does any real work around here. S'not like ya have to or anythin', so, why do ya do it anyway?"
His gaze caught on to the next shiny thing on the table - a shiny, silver zippo lighter. Leaning over a little, his hand, like a spider, crawled towards and grabbed it, examining the lighter. It was light - and it gleamed from the sunlight shining through the window.
He shook it a little, and continued spinning it in his hand. He sighed - It made him want a cigarette, but he had left his stash back at his table, and the only thing he had on him was... well, it was not ideal to take at this time of the day.
He flicked the lid of the zippo lighter open, watching the flickering flame. He grinned, moving his other hand slowly towards the lighter. Ever so slowly, he passed each of his fingers through the flame, feeling the extreme heat engulf him, the pain bordering on unbearable searing his nerves.
When the last finger trailed away, he flicked his wrist and the lid flipped back close, and he lowered the lighter onto the table, shaking his hand and blowing onto his fingers.
"So. What're you doin'?"
It seemed as if Gin was not going to answer the question any time soon. Ulquiorra refrained from asking it a third time and resorted to focusing all of his attention on the blueprint in front of him. He was just getting back into the flow of things when a rather absurd question pulled him out of his thoughts. Why? The reason behind his diligence and hard work seemed rather obvious to him, but he was not too surprised that the Capo Bastone failed to see it. However, he did not feel like explaining himself at that particular moment, especially not to someone as mischievous as Gin. Besides, it was not his fault that everyone else was lazy and incompetent. He was only doing his job.
Dragging the pencil across the paper slowly, Ulquiorra continued his work and tried to ignore the man behind him as much as he could. He halted, his pencil stilling mid-stroke, when the lighter that he kept on his desk was whisked away. Although he did not smoke, he kept an ashtray and lighter available so that his office would be prepared in case a client or a visitor did. Turning his head to the side, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Gin proceeded to pass his fingers through the flame. He could not believe that his work day was being interrupted by such nonsense.
As if to reiterate the fact that the little visit was all just a game, Gin asked something that was completely ridiculous. Ulquiorra returned his attention to the prints in front of him and remained silent. If Gin insisted on asking something so obvious, he would insist on not answering. A moment or two went by before he stiffened and said, "I believe I asked you something, first." He wanted to find out if the silver haired man was there for a reason, and what that reason was. If Gin was there just to spite him, then... his hand strayed back to the sword kept under his desk.
He made a whining noise and pouted, tempted to kick Ulquiorra's chair but deciding not to in case it bumped Ulquiorra's hand and destroyed the perfectly straight line.
Actually... Come to think of it...
He watched Ulquiorra's hand stray under the table and decided against it. He kept his gun under his table, and presuming Ulquiorra did something similar, it would be best to not aggravate the consigliere.
Any further, anyway. After all he came unarmed.
"Fine. Be a party pooper. I was only tryin' ta make conversation..."
He walked back around Ulquiorra's table and sat at the vacant seat opposite from the architect, wriggling a little, making himself comfortable as he crossed his legs and propped his arms up on the armrests, entwining his fingers.
"So like, ye, we was meant ta be talkin' 'bout this whole gamblin' business." He figured he did not need to elaborate - Ulquiorra was there during the family meeting.
Ulquiorra doubted Gin knew how to carry on a normal conversation. Setting down his pencil, he shifted in his chair and rested his elbow on one of the armrests. Once the other man was seated in front of him, he leveled his stare and regarded him with cold, indifferent eyes. This was going to be a trying encounter.
"Si, oviamente," he replied, swallowing the urge to say something about Gin's manner of speaking. Leave it to Aizen's right hand man to make something so crucial sound so... informal.
He hoped that the devious man could remain serious for a few minutes so that they could give the topic the attention it deserved.
"I am sure that you are well aware," he began, idly tapping his fingers on the edge of his desk, "that The Black Cat Lounge is surpassing Cinq in profits, both legal and illicit."
Cinq was Sousuke Aizen's club. The Black Cat Lounge was Kisuke Urahara's. They were both posh, well known places to go for alcohol and dancing. More importantly, however, they both offered 'back rooms' where the real money making took place - gambling. The two clubs were rivals in a business that wasn't supposed to exist. It was a delicate matter, to say the least.
"Somehow, we need to figure out how and why we are losing customers to Mr. Urahara." Since it was his job to focus on the well being of the family, the consigliere already had an idea as to how they could investigate the matter further. However, he wanted to see if Gin had anything in mind, as well. Although the Capo Bastone was not one of his favorite people, Ulquiorra had to admit that he occasionally came up with some decent ideas. There was always the possibility of getting a brilliant suggestion thrown in with all the impractical ones.
(( Si, oviamente = yes, of course ))
He rubbed at his jaw, his gaze growing distant as Ulquiorra talked. He was listening, of course, but thinking as well. He was well aware of the profit margins of Cinq, and he had a rough idea of what kind of money Kisuke was making at Black Cat. For two places with similar customer bases which offer similar services, the difference was indeed significant.
"Well there's plenty o' ways to solve that... We could always burn Black Cat down... Bump K'suke off... Or press a bean-shooter against his noodle and make 'im spill his lil' tricks..."
But of course, Ulquiorra was probably not in favour of letting him go to Black Cat and starting a riot there - and the Don was probably not in favour of that either.
"But ya know, easiest way ta learn sommin' is through observation n' imitation. We could jus' send in a rat. We got lots o' guys sittin' around doin' nuffin anyway."
Regardless, he still quite liked the idea of barging in to Black Cat and shooting everyone. It would be a whole lot more fun.
Ah... how brilliant. Ulquiorra should have known that the first thing out of Gin's mouth would have been something violent and impractical. He could only imagine what the man would do if he was given the opportunity to act as he pleased. The consigliere suspected that over half of the city would be either burned down or bullet-torn within a few short hours. Simply shooting at things was tactless and rash. They needed something subtle... something that would give them the upper hand... something...
Precisely.
Ulquiorra's eyes widened ever so slightly. He had actually been thinking that exact same thing. It appeared as if Gin could apply himself, occasionally. The dark haired man leaned back in is chair and folded his hands on his lap. "Sending in a spy seems to be the best option, yes," he agreed, looking past the man in front of him and thinking for a bit longer. "But it would not be wise to simply send in any random character."
He brushed a piece of lint of his pants and mentally sorted through his list of soldati. The spy would have to be someone they could trust. It would have to be someone either fairly new or low in the ranks, since most of the higher-ups would immediately be recognized as affiliates of the family. Sending in someone who could be linked to them would be risky. "Do you have anyone in mind?" he asked, returning his attention back to Gin.
He grinned in self-approval - so the consigliere did find him to be useful. Maybe they could get along after all.
Maybe.
Not that he needed Ulquiorra's seal of approval to do anything, anyway. He got away with most of the things he did - he did, though, try his best not to burden Mister Aizen with the glorious escapades he went on every once in a while.
To be honest, he was only very familiar with the Capo Regimes, and he was aware Kisuke would know most if not all of their faces. The qualities 'new' and 'trusted' rarely went together, and to find someone like that in the cosa nostra...
"Wells we got a bunch of soldiers, but they're all palookas, to my knowledge... Couldn't hold a cover fer more than a couple o' days..."
He thought about it a little longer, and then he made a soft noise and perked up.
"What about that new bird? Wit' the scars on his face? He ain't hinky, and he ain't a boob." He was not entirely sure he trusted him, as of yet, but if anything happened, he was expendible. He was new, after all - although, really, anyone was expendible.
Scars? There were a few soldati with scars on their faces. Ulquiorra shifted in his chair and tried to think. He knew the faces and names of practically every man under him, but there were so many that it sometimes took him a minute to think of a specific one. Someone new...
"Do you mean Shuuhei Hisagi?" he asked, finally coming up with the name that belonged to the face he had in mind. Shuuhei was fairly new, and had three parallel scars running down one side of his face. Ulquiorra did not have much knowledge about the man, but knew enough to come to the conclusion that he would probably be a good a choice as any.
"He would certainly do," he agreed. The man seemed to be a quick thinker and an easy adapter, two things that were vital in playing such a role. "I suppose you would like me to speak with him," he said, picking up his pencil and tapping it on his desk. "We should really try to get this moving as quickly as possible. Il tempo e i soldi, after all."
(( Il tempo e i soldi = Time is money ))
Shuuhei Hisagi? What kind of a name was that? Hell if he knew what the names of those underlings were - there were probably some he had never even seen before.
But the fact that Ulquiorra found the man to be fitting meant that either they were referring to the same person, or the consigliere had a better idea as to who to send. No matter.
"Yeah, sure, that guy."
At Ulquiorra's approval, he pushed back his seat a little and stood, slipping his hands back into his pockets. Sounds like the day's business was settled.
"Well... Seein' as ya offered - sure you can go talk to 'im."
He grinned.
"Thanks bo."
He walked around towards the door of Ulquiorra's office, twisting the doorknob open, poking his head out of the doorway. Looking left, and then right, he stepped out onto the empty corridor. Everyone seemed to be busy working...
Maybe he'll go pester Mista Bossman for a cookie.
Words could not describe the relief that Ulquiorra felt when the other man stood to leave. A part of him had expected Gin to stay, if only out of spite. Barely blinking, he watched the man depart, taking a deep breath once he was finally alone. Picking up his pencil, he scanned the print in front of him and tried to find where he had last left off. His hand moved fluidly across the paper as he began to get back into the steady rhythm of his work.
He wondered briefly if Shuuhei Hisagi would give them his full cooperation. It was not like he had much of a choice. Soldati had only one function in the Cosa Nostra, and that was to carry out the will of the higher ups. Hisagi would do as told, if he knew what was good for him. Ulquiorra straightened his back and reached for a ruler. He would just have to make that fact completely clear when they met to 'discuss' the job.