A/N: Broke down the horrid writer's block! Finally! And naturally, given the new chapters of Bleach, I got an idea for a little drabble based on Toshiro's newest accessory (whether it's permanent, who knows. But I'm gonna exploit it anyway). Enjoy!

Disclaimer! I do not own Bleach or any other copyrighted material.

The air felt distilled–that's how long she'd been staring at him. And to be honest, he was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable. It showed in the way he shifted, the underside of his shoes scraping none-too-loudly along the roof's shackles, teal eyes darting about almost timidly. He felt unnaturally self-conscious within her onyx eyes' scrutiny, the urge to wipe his face or fix his hair becoming rather crucial. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, he didn't comply; he just continued to sit beside her, stewing in petty vexation whilst his features twisted a scowl and his fists unwittingly clenched, silently fuming.

'What the hell is she staring at?!' he pondered irately, sparing her a wary glance. And as to be expected, she was still staring, brow furrowed ever so slightly in what seemed like contemplation. Or rendering. Whichever, it still annoyed him, prompting him to finally ask what was up.

Though, like clockwork, she beat him to it.

"What's up with the bandana?" Karin asked, expression unchanging as her gaze dropped to meet his. He blinked dumbly, thick cloth shifting above his brow as it furrowed and reminding him quickly that he was, in fact, wearing a bandana, making him feel minutely stupid for having to actually think about it.

"Nothing's 'up' with it," he shrugged it off lightly, irritation receding to nothingness. "I just felt like wearing it. Stop reading so much into trivial things, Karin."

She scowled. "Well, maybe if you didn't change your appearance every five minutes. I mean, first the hair, then the scarf, and now a bandana? Honestly, Toshiro, how many accessories do you need?"

"I don't change my appearance every five minutes," he justified coolly, rolling his eyes. "And a scarf and bandana is hardly 'many'."

"Kinda is…and also, they clash." A scoff escaped him. "They're essentially the same thing, and the fact that you wear one around your neck and head is verging on ridiculous; it's just unnecessary."

He opened his mouth to respond, but promptly closed it, reeling in the words as the gears of his unforgetful mind turned; he'd had a similar conversation before. Or rather, they had, the first time he visited her since donning the sea-green scarf. She'd had, basically, the same reaction; she stared at him for a good three minutes or so, furrowed her brow, bit her lip, and eventually asked 'what's up with the scarf?', along with remarks on his haircut.

He hadn't given it much thought, however, chalking it up to mere surprise by the obtrusive changes he'd made in the months of their separation, and she hadn't really pressed it, simply shrugging and taking his 'I just felt like it' response without refute. Though, now that he looked back on it, she'd acted a little off for those first few visits afterwards. It was in subtle ways, but being the observant man he is, he caught them all; more consistent glances and once-overs, oddly timed blushes, and even stuttering on one or two occasions.

He'd never really questioned it, figuring if he commented she'd just get angry or even more flustered, both of which he preferred to avoid unless he was seeking entertainment. But now, as the situation had sprung once more and it seemed to be enhanced some, he couldn't help but ask.

"Why are you so hung up on it?"

The light pink that painted her cheeks was unmistakable, even in the setting sun. "W-what?"

"Well, first you stare at it for five minutes, then you pick a fight over me changing my appearance too often and wearing too many accessories, which begs the question: how come you're so against it all?"

"Uh…"

"I mean, I thought I just took you off guard last time, 'cause I hadn't been down in a while and I suppose I looked a bit different. But now, it seems you're just very nitpicky about my looks." He quirked a brow at her then, her mild yet obvious frustration unfailing to amuse him. "Why is that?"

There was a pregnant pause as she glared at him, scowl reprising and almost overcoming her blush. Then, crossing her arms over her chest, Karin huffed, "I couldn't care less what you look like." And with that snappy retort, she averted her gaze elsewhere, ignoring his presence.

"…not like it makes you more attractive or anything..."

Being it a low murmur, he barely caught it. Though, once he rendered the words, they wouldn't leave, resounding in his memory – more attractive – and he let his lips curl in regard, smirking in vain.

It all made sense now.

.

.