Heaving a grunt of displeasure when he doesn't manage to snatch away the controller - it's his game system, dammit, so why is Rukia in here monopolizing it - he bends closer, hands on his hips. Ichigo's thin brows slowly work their way up his forehead.

Keep sticking your tongue out, he thinks, and I'll grab it one of these times. Though truthfully, he's doubtful he could. Not just because she'd probably have an edge on him.

"What about my presence needs masked? You make it sound like I forget to put deodorant on every morning or something. I just like that one because it's blue and it has fins and water Pokemon are cooler."