Shrugs. "I'm merely just interested in what has happened. I understand there can always be spontaneous sour moods, but that is very unlike when it comes to you." Takes a drag and tilts head to release the smoke into the room's air. "And as for smoking, I have told you it's the only way I can keep myself focused and awake around the clock. Getting rid of cigarettes would decrease my working ability at least 46 percent. During withdrawals way over 60 percent."
"I’m always “sour”, because almost no one in this division knows what they’re doing. It’s only natural,” tone itself was rather bitter, but it was something the scientist would pass off as borderline normal. The quicker they were off this subject the better.
"Oh, well, pardon me," he started sarcastically with the right hand lifting itself in a manner to mockingly flap itself at its wrist in the form of an expression that wished to be excused. "Pardon me for not wanting that gross smell anywhere near me. You can smoke anywhere else— as long as I’m not aware of it."
Raises a brow and looks at taicho. "Did you wake up next to Zaraki Kenpachi today or something? It's been a while since you've been this easily irritated." Casually pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and starts smoking as if there's nothing wrong with it.
As if Akon had any reason to make such an outrageous and obnoxious comment. “Why does that concern you at all, and why is that barbarian even involved, hm?” he questioned as he turned his head over his shoulder, catching the subordinate beginning to smoke without seemingly a care in the world.
"Stop smoking. I detest the smell, and you know very well that I do."
As expected, the Shinigami continued to dodge spike after spike that was sent after him. The boy was only playing, after all, and it would be useless and ill advised to kill the painted figure so quickly. Only when Gremmy had been given his fill of entertainment would he really allow his target to experience the type of pain that was in store for him. The deepest parts of the boy’s mind were where the most unspeakable thoughts of torture and blood — the thoughts reserved for those, like the scientist before him, who provided an adequate source of joy.
He had to pause, actually surprised by the sudden close proximity and the stopping of movement. There was blood, a spike stabbing through the other’s arm and yet there was hardly any reaction at all. It caused his eyes to narrow further into impossibly thin slits and a step to be taken backward in his moment of shock.
How dare this pathetic creature have enough gall to challenge the strongest of the Sternritter; it caused Gremmy to sneer slightly before the expression was covered up with another smile. “That’s all? If you think that’s the extent of my power then you’re wrong! I wonder if you could move as fast as you did with muscles made out of yarn~”
The blood was normal. The way it rushed from his arm was normal and, dare he say, expected. He did expect a little bit more pain, but it was just a mere spike. He supposed there could have been much more force put behind it. Nonetheless, he caught the shifting of expression upon the boy’s face. It was amusing in a way, because the scientist hardly put forth an effort and already managed to worm himself under his skin. Perhaps this was why he never truly participated in such barbaric practices like brawls. Maybe he thought of himself too good or too prim for such activities. Whatever the reasons behind his methods may be, he would never speak out right. “I’ve felt worse,” he stated in a bored sort of a tone as he yanked his arm away from the spike. From thereon, he ignored the scent of blood. What came next was more of a shock than anything else.
Parting his lips in order to spare a question, he was shortly interrupted by the sensation of something he could not quite pinpoint. Left leg was the first to fall into a kneel whilst right leg simply strained to keep its foot rooted firmly to the ground. Arms by now became limb. If he had been given the choice, he would have severed such useless pieces of meat. Neck, for the most part, seemed partly functional. Eyes glanced from limb to limb before his stare fell upon the Sternritter. For a moment, he remained silent before having the gall to state forwardly, “I have definitely felt worse.”
Just gives a dull look. "You want me to go out and find the package? That will slow down the whole laboratory by many percentages from what it already is." Looks down at some documents. "Should I send someone else to get it?"
"I don’t care how you decide to fix it.”
A pause was given to shoot a displeased glare the subordinate’s way. “I just want it fixed.”
"If my memory serves me right, it was you who made the order and Rin, who was left with the mission to keep track of the delivery." Tots did not give the responsibility to Rin.
Hand curled its fingers into a tight fist. Balling all of the scientist’s anger into one small fragment of his body, the next action should have come as expected.
Peeks in. "Captain, the order of gigai supplies hasn't arrived yet, causing a delay of 16,37 hours in the recent project. If this goes on, the prototype of this new lighter and more durable gigai might face several issues that will make us fall even more behind on the schedule."
"That sounds like quite the problem, Akon.”
"… And who is in charge of this order, hmm?"
Moving quietly onto the top of his desk, Yachiru seemed to purposely knock his paperwork out of her way so she could sit directly in the middle. "Mayurin?" she called softly, head tilting as she crawled forward some, attempting to make eye contact but was met with nothing. "Mayuuurin?" Trying again, this time she stressed the 'u' sound for a short moment. "Mayurin, are you--" Having reached the edge, she lifted her hand towards him, fingers close to his cheek. "--okay?"
There went his paperwork. Eyes never met hers, though. He knew better nowadays. He was not tired. He was not exhausted. He hardly anything. It was not out of boredom, nor was it out of the need for someone or something. It was simply what he grew into and what he evolved into. Maybe it was sad to watch from a distance, but Mayuri did not require nor want sympathy. Pity was useless. Everything was unnecessary when he had work to get done. “Don’t touch me,” he muttered almost immediately when the small hand reached for his cheek. Being touched was not something he liked. Being touched was not something he wanted. Being touched was something that reminded him of him.
There was blatant refusal to answer her question. She did not deserve it with what of the mess she made on his floor. Normally, he would have been at work already to pick up the papers but, for now, his body lingered. His hand still held its pen as if preparing to write again whilst the other one was positioned in a manner that made it seem like he was previously drumming its fingers rapidly upon the desk’s surface. Eyes glanced to her for a second before tearing their selves away.