The Hand that Feeds You [Cyrus, Ulquiorra]

”An easy presumption to make. But are you so sure that the Kurosaki of the past would mingle so well with your own?” she ventured simply enough.

And of course, she was certainly intrigued by him. That unerring ‘good intention’ that wafted from the man at every turn. That every precaution was taken to so carefully make things clear the selflessness of his intentions. That every caution was for the benefit of others. For politeness. For greater good.

It certainly begged the question of what bones of selfish desires lay beneath that vision of leadership.

She considered.

”Is that so? I admit, I half expected you to lose interest or hope in such a pursuit. And as for that. That we are ‘still far from being familiar’. I suppose then by your wording that is something you intend to change.” she murmured, closing her eyes before turning toward the door to his office and making her way toward it. Reaching up and brushing her hair over her shoulder, followed by that stony viridian glance.

”I hope you will forgive me, but I think I will continue to ‘play hard-to-get’” she delivered flatly, slipping her hands into her pockets and then walking out of his office.