beachtown jive

“I don’t trust it,” Grimmjow says the second he sees the ocean, a stubborn jut to his chin that Ichigo knows means nothing but trouble.The old man is already waist-deep in the water, hideous Hawaiian shirt thankfully abandoned on the towel. It’s not that much less of an eyesore all crumpled up. Karin’s already sworn to burn it, Yuzu and Ichigo have promised to run interference while he does, and Grimmjow’s probably going to end up helping with that by dint of being his usual self.“You don’t trust the ocean,” Ichigo repeats slowly. It's bold words coming from a man in a meat suit (as he calls it) and powder-blue swim shorts with little ducks on them, though Ichigo can't talk since his are liberally decorated with strawberries. He hefts the cooler he’s got in one hand, laden down with beer (for him and the old goat), juice (Yuzu), soda (Karin), and that nightmarishly sweet bottled milk tea that’s Grimmjow’s favorite.