The smile catches her by surprise. There's something achingly familiar about it, and not because it's Ichigo, either — something in the expression that feels like one she hasn't seen in ages, maybe even a lifetime. It sends her stomach lurching, floods her cheeks further with pink as she brings a hand to uncomfortably massage at the back of her neck, anything to distract her. Or anything to distract him as she stares.
She's not sure which.
It's such a small thing. The entire situation is understated, from the simple cake and ice cream to the smile on his face, genuine, the kind that one would expect to find often on the face of the average man. But Ichigo isn't exactly average by any standard, and Rukia's just sure that she hasn't seen that smile often. Not directed at her, at any rate.
"It's nothing," she shakes her head, tilting her head slightly in the direction of the cake, the plates she's laid out by the side. "I just thought... that it was about time you had something nice in the city."
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She's not sure which.
It's such a small thing. The entire situation is understated, from the simple cake and ice cream to the smile on his face, genuine, the kind that one would expect to find often on the face of the average man. But Ichigo isn't exactly average by any standard, and Rukia's just sure that she hasn't seen that smile often. Not directed at her, at any rate.
"It's nothing," she shakes her head, tilting her head slightly in the direction of the cake, the plates she's laid out by the side. "I just thought... that it was about time you had something nice in the city."