* * *
The perils of intimacy
* * *
Renji ducked away from Rukia's hand, pulling in on himself and shaking his head like an indignant dog. "That fucking stings!"
"What's this? The noble Vice-Captain of the Sixth whimpering like a babe in arms? What a truly sorrowful sight!"
"Then stop scratching!"
"Let me have my sword."
"No," said Rukia composedly. "You may need it in future exploits ... honoured Vice-Captain."
Renji went a deep purple and slumped.
"I'm going to kill that asshole," he muttered.
Rukia hummed. "If one so humble could presume to offer her advice, honoured Vice-Captain ... "
"I would recommend that you try your best to avoid catching fleas from your own zanpakutou." She uncorked the bottle, squeezing more of the demonic ointment she'd got from the Fourth onto her palm.
"It has a detrimental effect on one's appearance of dignity," she added kindly.
"Scratch that," said Renji. "I'm killing you first."