Sengoku shuffled down the stairs of his tavern, pulling his brown hair back and tying it off to keep his bangs out of his eyes. He glared into the dimly lit room, wriggling his nose as he tried to ward off a sneeze. Pale, grey, morning light filtered through the six windows, two on each wall, and two flanking the doors. He padded across the wooden floor, weaving his way through tables with their chairs stacked atop them. He crouched in front of the fire pit at the heart of the room, a raised stone basin full of ashes, charred wood, and coals. He piled some tinder at its heart, lit it, and slow fed the flames until the pit glowed and crackled, driving away the morning chill.

The firepit brightened the room, and he glanced back at the bar, and the stairs behind it that lead up to his quarters. A door in the wall behind the bar lead to the kitchen, but he'd get to that later. For now, he needed to get the Tavern ready for business. He lit a lamp in each corner of the room, and turned the locks and bolts on the heavy, oaken, front door before opening it up andstepping out onto the porch. He inhaled the fresh air, and fingered the axe at his waist. "Maybe it'll be a quiet day for once..."

Matsumori Sengoku went back inside, and checked all the kegs and pitchers behind the bar, making sure they were full enough to be of use. Once that was done, he went into the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast. The day was just beginning, who knew what would walk through his front door?

Waiting outside of the tavern, Mihamaru saunters inside the bar, wearing his cloak, with the hood over his head. After looking around at the lit lamps and the unobstructed windows, he finally decides to walk into the kitchen. As soon as he notices the man, although only his back, he makes a light knock on the wall to get his attention. "Hey boss-man."

Mihamaru had finally showed up, which was a good sign. One less employee to add the "The List". The list was a long list of former employees who had all met rather unpleasant ends. it was carved into the wall next to the kitchen's fireplace, and had about twenty names on it so far. Beside the names were one or two words describing their fates. Most of them had "Eaten by Hollow" or "Murdered in Alley" next to them. One had "Unfortunate Workplace Accident"...something no one had ever questioned.

"You're late, Mihamaru. Get down to the basement and bring up a keg of the Ale. We're low up here." he was working with a piece of flint and steel, showering a small pile of tinder with sparks and trying to coax a small flame into existance. Smoke began to curl up from the clump of dried grass and leaves, and he started feeding tiny twigs into it to better fuel the flames.

Hearing his orders, Mihamaru walks down to the basement, but not before making a smartass comment to his boss. ”You say that, yet I don’t see anyone else here. If they don’t I call their pay.” It’s just tradition. Smartassery is like breakfast, the morning just isn’t complete without it. After finding a keg easily enough, Mihamaru lifts it up with both hands, and slowly tries to get it upstairs, before slowly letting it down behind Sengoku. ”You want first crack at it, or should I put this where the old kegs were?”

Sengoku glanced over his shoulder, then snorted. "Nah. That's the weak stuff. Go ahead and set it up behind the bar." Not that it was too early to be drinking, of course, perish the thought. Sengoku could drink from sun up to sun down, and was known to do so when the mood hit him. He had the fire going in the fireplace and set the cook set up over it. Hanging a heavy cast iron pot over the flames, he sauntered over to the pantry and opened it up, eyeing the ingredients within. "When you're gone with that keg, go fetch a bucket of clean water. Be quick about it and you can have a bowl of the stew when it's done."

With the orders given, he grabbed a large red onion, some carrots, some potatoes, and a clove of garlic from the pantry. Bringing these to the table, he pulled a large knife from the nearby block and began chopping, skinning, and slicing with practiced patience. Sengoku knew how to kill with his axe, Sengoku knew his booze, and Sengoku knew how to cook. Outside of that, whatelse did he really need to know?

Groaning to himself, Mihamaru moves the keg back, before reaching the bar, and slowly drops it in the corner to give Sengoku some room. While he fills up a bucket of water, he closes his eyes to sniff the air, hoping he can get a good wiff of the stew, before running back to Sengoku with a nearly full bucket. ”This enough, or do you need more before I get something to eat?”

He glanced at the bucket and nodded. "That'll do for now. Pour about half of it in the kettle and use the rest to clean the tables and floors. Food's going to take a while." He was dumping the onions and carrots and potatoes into the pot, along with a few sprigs of thyme, parsely, and sage, as well as the minced up garlic clove. The whole thing started to sizzle as he made his way downstairs to the cellar to grab a hunk of beef. Once he had it, he began dicing it up for the stew as well.

It was the Third District Chie had found her feet leading her to. She had just spent a very long night reading, though she should have been working on organizing the books in the division's library. Instead of working, she found herself curled up with a book for company, wiling away the wee hours of the night until morning began to set in. The jarring realization that morning had begun was enough to prod her out of the library, as her shift was long over. Still wide awake, she fancied a stroll, carefully avoiding interaction with other shinigami by leaving Seireitei and heading toward Rukongai. She hadn't intended on going to the Third District, after all it had a seedy reputation, but it was less populated by her kind. In the early morning light, perhaps she felt a little safer.

Her stomach made a small grumble as she padded along a dusty, lonely road. Her black cloak was drawn tightly around her body, the hood up as well, warding against the early morning chill, and hopefully prying eyes.

Where would she end up? She hardly knew, just only wished to walk and be absorbed in her thoughts while mulling over what she had read.

In other words, yes. Yes, there will be much more work to be done before he can get something to eat. Obviously. Moving over to the kettle, he slowly pour about half the water, before walking out to the tables, grabbing a rag on the way out. ”Man, I knew I should’ve stolen something on the way. No one would think to go chasing after a tentacle that stole your food...” Muttering to himself other such stories the entire way, Mihamaru dampens the rag, and wipes down the tables closest to the door in circles. Best to do the tables the customers would see first to make the place look cleaner than it actually is, after all.

As the water began to bubble and boil, Sengoku crammed the lid down onto the pot to let the whole thing cook. The meat and onions had been suddifiently browned by the time Mihamaru had put the water in the ot, so it was sure to have a good flavor. However, for the sake of giving it a good bit of body, he'd dropped three big tailbones full of marrow into the pot as well. The heat would cause the marrow to runb out of the bones and mix it in with the stew broth, giving it a thicker body and a fuller flavor. While that was finishing, Sengoku went back to the pantry and removed a cople of loaves of bread. They were a bit stiff, but if he let them warm up by the fire for a bit before serving them, they'd soften right up. He carved off a chunk of one end and set it on a wooden plate for Mihamaru when he finished cleaning the tables.

As the morning progressed, people began making their way through the front doors. Most of them were other defenders, who'd been roaming the borders that night. Sengoku placed himself behind the bar as some of them settled onto the stools in front of it. "Mihamaru! When you've got the tables cleaned, there's food in the kitchen waiting for you. Eat it quick and then get back out here." He began serving drinks and chatting with his customers, never really smiling but always seeming to be in a good mood.

Chie's feet let her to a tavern, the warm smell of food wafting from its open door as a patron stepped inside. Her stomach rumbled again, and the quiet jingle of money in one of her inner pockets reminded her that perhaps it would be prudent to buy breakfast. She was hungry after all.

Hoping desperately that the tavern wouldn't be crowded, she pressed through the doorway, biting her lower lip. The place didn't seem overly busy, much to her relief. She stood awkwardly inside of the threshold, peering about for an empty table. There was one! In a lonely corner of the room, she spied an place to sit. Pushing her silver locks out of her eyes, she made her way to the corner table, sitting down so that her back faced the wall.

Fidgeting a bit, the frail creature had the appearance of a nervous animal. She hoped someone would come take her order soon, though she was unsure if she needed to approach one of the workers to make her order instead. Her stomach rumbled quietly again as she breathed in the soothing smell of food.

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"Knock, knock?" calls out a dull monotone voice as a white robed, dark-haired man wandered in through the door.


Briefly Andra's red-eyes glance about the right side of the tavern, his long flowing hair completely shading off his vision to the left. Momentarily his gaze sets upon the crackling fire sitting in the hearth. Such beauty from such a simple display. Moments later Andra finds himself sitting right next to the fire with a stray chair he lifted off an table with a ratio of more chairs than rears. The Arrancar takes his index finger and he combs the unkempt mess of beauty behind his ears on both sides of his face. As he once more scans the room, now with a more broad range of view, he spots across the way a female. She stood out amongst the gathered patrons of the tavern because of her hair, it was the only light-colored hair out of all the heads in the bar. As Andra observes what little of her his point of view has to offer he begins to wonder how the service works around here.

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After cleaning the tables for a good amount of time, Mihamaru eventually manages to steal a few minutes for himself to wolf down his broth. After scarfing down the last bit, and wiping down the plate, Mihamaru walks back out to work. Hopefully he can get back to work before Sengoku notices he left. Nothing good could come from tha-

And suddenly he sees it. Sitting next to the fireplace, like any other customer. A hollow, based on the mask. Before he goes to “take care of it”, though, he stops himself. Surely even a monster like them have basic survival instincts. Surely a true hollow would know better than to walk right into the den of people who want them dead. On the other hand...

Shaking his head quickly, he walks towards Sengoku. If he went right after him, the customers may flip out, making the fight even harder. Best to let him handle things his own way. After finally getting to him, he bends over, and whispers soft enough that no one else can hear him. ”I don’t mean to alarm you, but we’ve got a ‘mask’ down by the fireplace. Could be real, could be an idiot trying to make a fashion statement. Either way, both of us should keep an eye on him, yeah?” Standing back up, he takes a few steps away before turning back to him, and speaks in a more normal tone. ”Don’t worry about it. I already took care of them after I finished using them. Just in case we get even more crowded.”

And with that added distraction for any nosy customers, he goes off to tend to the other, hopefully non-nosy ones, starting with the white haired girl in the corner. ”Morning. Can I get you something?”

It had been a long night. Kind of cold. Rip had spent most of it staring at the stars. Couldn't sleep. He had enjoyed it, though. It was peaceful. The morning, however, was not. He had regretted entering the Third District almost immediately, and longed for that endless blanket of stars.

People rushed passed, conversations floated by. Doors were opening, shutters banging back. People were sweeping their porches. throwing out last night's water. Fetching more. It all filtered back to him as a cacaphony of noise. He could barely hear himself think. Why had he come here, anyway? Surely he was mad.

And then it came into view. The tavern. Right. He liked it in there. Around this time it was relatively quiet. Most of the patrons were coming in off an all nighter, tired and hungry. There would be quiet, friendly conversations between them. Possibly discussing the night's events, or lack thereof. And none of them ever bothered him. A nice place.

He pushed through the door and glanced around. He could smell the stew, and immediately decided he would have some. The proprietor was a very good cook. Unfortunately, his customary table in the back corner was occupied. If he were the outgoing type he might introduce himself, ask to share the table. He frowned. He liked that corner. It offered an unparalleled view of the room.

He chose a table halfway down the wall. Sat so his back was against the wall. Eyed the foreign presence at his preferred spot. Then let it go. Oh well... Once that stew was in front of him all his worries would be forgotten.

Sengoku gave the shinigami a cursory glance. She was a sprig of a thing, and he found himself wondering (quite rudely) if she could even wield that sword she was wearing. Still, she was a shinigami. Odds were good her skills lay in other fields. He was too preoccupied with a discussion he was having with another customer to notice their 'other' guest, but when Mihamaru brought the masked man to his attention, Sengoku suppressed a grimace. Speaking under his breath to his employee, he gave careful instructions that he expected to follow. "I'll handle it. If things look bad, try to get a Hell Butterfly out to the shinigami. The one in the corner looks like she'd fall over in a stiff breeze." That said, he raised his voice to normal tones.

"All right Mihamaru, thanks. Do some rounds, make sure everyone's got what they need. I'm going to go stoke the fire." That was a bit of an understatement. He sighed as he approached the fireplace, scratching the back of his head before picking up the firepoker and jabbing at the glowing ashes and charred wood. he picked up another log and dropped it into the flames, and without looking at the Arrancar, spoke quietly enough that just the two of them could hear.

"I don't know who you are. I don't know if you think you're being funny or cute with that mask fragment. I DO know that wearing it here was a mistake. Most of the folks you see have lost friends or family or both to hollows and arrancars." He glanced at the man, his eyes full of a cold indifference. If this was an arrancar, it didn't matter. Sengoku would do what he had to do, and that would be the end of it. "You have three options. First, you can remove the mask and enjoy a drink and a meal. Second, you can leave. Third, I can throw you out of here like yesterday's trash." Other people were starting to take notice of the arrancar. An unsettling hush was spreading across the tavern as once loud, casual conversations became hushed whispers. A few weapons were loosened from their sheaths. The environment had turned very hostile, very quickly.

SPOILER: Click to show

So I should have clarified where Chie's zanpakuto was. Let me do so in my post

Chie shifted in her seat, acting uncomfortable at the sight of a man, with a hollow mask, as he walked into the room. Feeling the familiar pressure of her two small dagger-like blades, her zanpakuto, tucked underneath her clothes and out of sight, she hoped no skirmish was impending. She would be expected to help, after all. That would be..well..a hassle, to put it unkindly. If a fight broke out, she would not defend herself well, as she was nearly as weak as she looked. Granted, she had some skills, she was quick and had clever, but she was easily over-powered. Grateful she left her hood up, she hoped to attract little to no attention from the dangerous looking man.

She was approached by a man, which diverted her attention. She flicked her hazel eyes up at him, the light of the room glinting against the green and orange flecks. Perhaps Mihamaru would think her a cornered, frightened animal, as she had strange eyes reminiscent of an animal's, and appeared to be delicate and jumpy like an woodland creature.

"Oh y-y-yes," she spoke politely, letting her voice come out timid as she looked up at Mihamaru. "W-What is that wonderful smell coming from the kitchen?" she questioned, her light, fluttery voice coming out in a shy near whisper.

Her vision slid over to notice another man, one short in stature, scruffy, and an odd hair-do. He kept looking at her. Her eyes widened in horror, but she forced a pained smiled at him, hoping he would stop looking at her.

Why are all these people here? she inwardly sighed.

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As Sengoku approached the fireplace and began his murmur Andra's concentration upon the white-haired Shinigami was disturbed. And so he felt he should disrupt the barkeep mid-talk, as if not even hearing the other half he did get out, "Oh, ..well hello there. I presume you are the barkeep? My name is Mr. Merchant." Andra shifts his gaze directly toward Sengoku's gaze and continues, "I am famished and desire meat. How's the quality and range of choice?" While Andra just sat there, appearing to be as calm as a duck in the middle of it's own pond, he was analyzing each and every one of the citizens that was in his view as well as the workers. The environment was indeed growing hostile however he knew that while within the establishment he had about a 50/50 shot of not being touched. He was content with his coin-flip odds and so he let his hands rest in his lap instead of on the hilt of one of his swords like most others appear to be doing..

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Mihamaru, despite his best efforts, continues to dart his eyes back towards Sengoku and the one with the mask, checking for any signs that he could help. While going over plans to assist, from the useful and expected to the impossible and unpredictable, he manages to catch the woman's words. Reminding himself that the worst thing he could do is cause a panic, he looks to her with a faked smile. "Ah, that's a good nose. That's the owner's special stew. Normally that's for the employees, but I like you, so if you want some of it, I think I can get you some of it. Unless you'd rather order something else?"

The whole atmosphere of the tavern changed. Where once there was a friendly, home-away-from-home feeling, now there was only hostility. Rip looked around, confused. His presence usually didn't provoke such a response. At least, not here. So he was fairly certain all that hostility wasn't aimed at him.

And then he saw it. The owner was talking to a man, sitting alone by the fire. A man wearing a mask. A white mask.

Yup. That would do it. Rip didn't react. It was guaranteed that if the man remained in the tavern there would be bloodshed, but the innkeep was a capable man. He would take care of it. And if for some reason he couldn't, then Rip would react. For now, though, he stayed in his seat, attempted to appear relaxed, and watched the 'altercation' closely.

Sengoku snorted and straightened up, his right hand resting on the head of his axe, the left still wrapped around the handle of the fire poker. "You need to learn to listen, boy." He called Andra boy, because the Arrancar looked so much younger than he did. "I'm not serving anything to you until you remove that mask. Last warning. Take it off, or I'll throw you out of here myself."

Andra seemed far too confident in his abilities. He was not nearly skilled or powerful enough to take on a tavern full of armed Rukon Defenders. There was no doubt in Sengoku's mind that this man was a hollow. Not anymore. Sengoku had yet to meet a hollow that he and Mihamaru couldn't handle. He waited, motionless, and watched. Maybe the Arrancar would use his brains and get out while he still could. Maybe he'd be an idiot and try something stupid.

Chie's face tinged a gentle pink at Mihamaru's words. He was nice, wasn't he? "Thank you, if you don't mind. It does smell rather wonderful." Yes, that was an appropriate reaction. She dared to peek her gaze up at him, her eyes flicking around the room, as if she were too nervous to make eye contact for very long. Of course, she noticed his gaze's direction after she looked back at him. He was keeping tabs on the Arrancar.

She was intrigued by the creature, as she had read much about them, but she wouldn't show such an interest. It's presence here was not conducive to observation and learning. Such a creature was garnering hostility in a place such as this, which wasn't surprising to her. The people of this district had lost many to the Hollow, no thanks to the scarce presence of her kind.

With her mind whirring with possible outcomes of the scenario that laid before her, she lapsed back into a silence and kept her eyes warily on the move. It was possible that something was about to happen, as the hostility in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

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Andra rises from the chair and quite literally looks down upon Sengoku after his posture fully erects. The Arrancar easily understood why someone such as Sengoku would be frustrated at the sight of a Hollow. That was the life of the tavern folk, get drunk, kill off the infection. He couldn't stop it and he never tried, Andra just coped with it. Without even knowing why he was a Hollow or how he came to be one. After a few seconds of peering down at the man with an almost emotionless gaze, he replies in an oddly respectful tone, "It's understandable why you want me to leave this place and so I will. But if you ever disrespect me again by referring to me as boy, I'll jam that firepoker you have there down your throat and pull out an organ shish kabob that I'll force feed to your lapdog over there. Good day." Andra doesn't even make any gestures at Mihamaru when calling him a lapdog, he simply turns and heads for the exit at an evenly steady pace, his fists balling up so tight that the whites on his knuckles become very clear. As Andra is passing through the door he entered from he glances over at the Shinigami one last time so that he could etch her image into his mind.

[Exit Attempt]

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As soon as she accepted his offer, Mihamaru quickly walked off into the kitchen, letting the Mask out of his sight only once he is in the kitchen. ”Yeah, unless that thing makes the first blow, I’ll let the boss-man take care of things. The man doesn’t exactly pay me enough to risk getting eaten over a hollow trying to get some tavern grub” After taking a short time to find a clean bowl, he fills it up with the remainder of the stew, leaving only traces of it left in the bigger bowl.

After walking out to his customer, he happens to notice the chair by the fireplace, where the Mask was sitting is now empty. Apparently Sengoku was able to take care of things himself. After making it over to his customer's table, he places the stew in front of her, doing it slowly so that the scent hopefully raises her appetite. "You got VERY lucky. Not only did you get the last of the stew, but the hollow left before you had to draw your sword. Or did you help him while my back was turned, shinigami?"

And just like that the tension was gone. Rip let the air out of his lungs. He hadn't realized he was holding his breath. His eyes followed the hollow leave, and then switched over to the server returning from the kitchen. He had a bowl of stew. It looked magnificent!

Rip knew, right then and there, that that would be his morning meal. The aroma was marvelous! Scintillating! And then he heard it. Four terrible words. Four terrible, earth-shattering words. Four words that would forever ruin his day. "Last of the stew."

He was suddenly very sad.

Sengoku spat into the fire as the arrancar took his leave. "More folk than I can count have tried that already. Better folk then you." He was glad to see the hollow leaving. The last thing Sengoku wanted was a rumble in his tavern, one that could likely bring the whole place down around their heads if the hollow had a strength to match his arrogance/wrecklessness/whatever idiocy caused him to walk into a building full of people who could and would try to kill him if they ever knew what he was. Sengoku watched the hollow exit, and then headed for the back of the Tavern. He needed a drink.

As the Arrancar made his way out of the tavern, he shot a glance at Chie. She returned the look with one of her own, her face taking the appropriate anxious expression for such a situation, though strangely enough...the expression did not quite reach her eyes. The strange mismatch only lasted a moment, and then it was gone.

And then, Mihamaru returned with her food; her face and eyes were betraying emotions of nervousness, as well as hunger as she happily breathed in the smell of the stew. In reply to his statement, she shook her head, eyeing the bowl of goodness that rested before her, "No, I believe your boss resolved the situation satisfactorily." Her reply was respectful and quiet, and she timidly smiled at Mihamaru. "Thank you," she spoke, regarding the food with apparent relish. "But I hope I did not deprive any of the staff of their meal," she added before she reached for the bowl.

"I wouldn't worry about it. I'd say they all had their chances." While his eyes continues to dash about, he notices another regular in the place, sitting alone. Rick, or something to that effect. Why isn't he in his usual... oh, right. And he'd probably order...

Yeah, he is not going to be happy with the shinigami. Walking away from her, to let her eat in peace, he walks over to Richard, hoping he's not in too bad a mood. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Can I get you anything?"

He was wallowing. Here, in this place, at his table, wallowing was to be found. It was a sad, terrible day, and it could only get worse. Woe unto him for seeking the comforts of a warm tavern! Woe!

The young man who worked there approached him. Rip was staring off into space, tormenting himself by imagining how good the stew would have tasted. How succulent the scent. It was torture. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Can I get you anything?"

Slowly. Ever so slowly. Rip turned and focused on the man before him. He considered the question. It was a fairly open question. Probably unintentionally. It begged a smartass reply. Rip responded, "You could get me many things."

He paused a beat then continued, "Most of which I probably don't want. You can't get me a small selection of things. All of which it would be safe to assume I do want." He spread his arms wide, palms up, in a sort of shrug. "I'm a mite peckish. What, of these many things, would you suggest?"

Sengoku had disappeared bak into the kitchen, pulled a philter of good brandy from a cabinate, along with a clay cup. He poured a small amount, bolted it back, and then poured more and took his time with it. The Arrancar was a deadly thing, no doubt. Deadly or stupid. Sengoku doubted the latter, and only suspected the former because the Arrancar had shown the good sense to leave instead of causing a conflict. What truly got to him was how brazen th thing had been; walking about in the middle of the Rukongai without even trying to hide itself...it was a worrisome bit of knowledge that had Sengoku fidgeting and wishing he could light out after the monster and kill it now. Instead, in favor of sparing his tavern and those inside undue destruction and bloodshed, he had let it go. No doubt that decision would come back to bite him in the ass later.

His drink finished, he went back to replenshing the stew that Mihamaru had managed to empty out so quickly. This time, instead of water, he used a weak, watery ale. The alcohol would cook off, and the hops would give the stew a little body and soul. While he was at it, he set more hard loafs on a table near the fireplace to soften in the warmth. Mihamaru could handle the order taking and such, Sengoku just focused on preparing food.

As Miha walked away, Chie took the liberty of pulling the bowl closer to her face. Inhaling deeply, she savored the soft, warm smell that wafted up through her nose. It really was quite lovely. Dipping her spoon into the bowl, she held a steaming portion up to her mouth. Her heart shaped lips puckered slightly as she blew gently onto the soup. Careful, she placed the tip of her spoon in her mouth, letting her tongue furtively dart out to test the temperature of the stew. Satisfied that it would not scald her, she began to consume her meal, as her rumbling stomach could not be assuaged by anything else.

Her mind clicked back to the Arrancar. What was he doing in a place like this? She really found the situation to be quite interesting, but of course, one had to behave properly in such a situation as to avoid trouble and attention. Her skills were modest, at best, and she could not expect to survive an encounter with something of that magnitude.

Of course, she wondered, if her apathy did her a disservice. Was that not something she had heard, times before, in regards to the negative outlook the Rukongai citizens had toward the Shinigami?

Still, Chie wasn't about to risk her neck with out a clear gain in her favor. The situation was resolved, after all, by what appeared to be the tavern owner.

Mulling over these thoughts, she absentmindedly stirred her stew with her spoon, her gaze rolling over the bar and its patrons without any particular focus.