Swift and steady footfalls echoed through the dull empty halls of Las Noches, their sharp tone reverberating off the blank, uninteresting, walls. Along with it came the light thud of a perfectly black cane tapping against the floor intermittently. An exquisite cape fluttered with no wind, and a neatly kept top hat sat upon the head of the latest Arrancar to take seat number eight amongst the notorious Espada. He was Medrakan Stife, and he seemed to be in no rush.
A wide, almost friendly, grin was stretched across his face, while his eyes gleamed with what seemed to be excitement. He would even go so far as to hum or whistle a light tune every now and then, earning him more than a few odd glances from those he passed. This did not look like a man who was late for an apparently urgent meeting. It would be one of the few meetings he had attended, and perhaps a chance to better know his fellows in crime. They certainly seemed like a dour lot in his mind. All these white, greys and blacks were so dull for the eyes.
He idly wondered how people did not go stir crazy here. But, then he remember that they were already crazy, and moved on from the thought. Which conveniently brought him to the grand entrance of the hall, where his peers undoubtedly awaited his arrival eagerly. He prepared himself for a grand entrance, but was flustered by the exit of a group of no-name Arrancar. His expression showed a momentary lapse of joy, before he quickly composed himself. With long, confident strides, he entered, taking off his hat, revealing his perfectly slicked back black hair, and giving a particularly low bow, holding the hat to his chest and extending his right arm outward. As he rose again, the new Espada began to speak, twisting his hat and placing it back atop his head as he did so.
"Medrakan Stife, the one and only eight Espada, at your service," he said in a notably smooth voice "I hope I did not keep you waiting too long, but I do enjoy being fashionably late."
He gave another bow to their Primera, just for good measure, and as an apology for being late, before hurrying off to the table. As he briskly walked by the seat of Espada number two, he saw a particularly disinterested looking woman. He passed by her chair slowly, before reappearing on the other side, a perfectly red rose in his hand, offering it to her with his gloved hand.
"A flower for the lady?" he asked rhetorically, with his most winning smile.
Medrakan did not wait for an answer, simply placing it delicately upon the table next to her meal, before moving on to his own place and taking a seat, taking off his hat as he did so and placing it aside. His expression lit up slightly as he saw the exquisite meal laid out in front of him. With a movement of his hand, he produced a napkin, before performing a similar motion with both hands, summoning a knife and fork from out under his sleeves. Without waiting to see what the others were doing, he took a taste of the meal, savouring the taste.
"Mmm, magnifique!" he stated, before helping himself to more.
For a while, the captain stood in a stoic manner, merely observing those who filtered in. It was good to see that so many people had gathered, most of whom he had not talked with in quite some time. Things looked to be highly organised, and it quickly became obvious to him that this was a much larger operation than originally anticipated.
However, his few moments of peace were interrupted as he witnessed a stranger approach the newly dubbed Captain-Commander unannounced. This, for him, was insulting enough, but to then hear this...outsider, speak in such a manner to their right and honourable leader was something that he found to be absolutely unacceptable. With a low grumble, James was roused from his calm demeanour and slowly made his way toward this new arrival.
He stood in front of the Captain-Commander, and gave a slow short bow to the man, before fixing his gaze upon Ukita, then moving on to his fellow Captain, Primrose.
"Who is this whelp that thinks himself enough to speak to our Commander in such a way?" he asked plainly, in as stern a voice as he could conjure.