[OOC: I know Chorin said he'd left, but he posted that while I was working on mine, and I don't feel like deleting it.]
Weighed down by the corpses he'd lugged all the way from the periphery of the seireitei, he was exhausted by the time he finally arrived at the base of operations, coming to a skipping halt mid-shunpo near the first signs of he'd sighted since the battle. But before he could stop completely, he lurched forward, unbalanced by the load he carried and before he could react, ended up toppled over a pile of scorched remains, face first. At first, he didn't move at all. He just lay there, lifeless like the others. But then, he began raising his head, gradually exposing his features to present company. A rather slim face with hair falling along the temple, which would have been attractive if not for the scornful frown plastered over it, as if looking down upon everyone around him with those black regal eyes. At that moment, he would have appeared to be the stereotypical noble from folklore if not for the grime trailing from his temple to his cheeks. That, and the beads of sweat racing across his forehead as he continued to gasp for breath, his vision still blurry from the amount he'd exerted himself in the past half hour.
Finally, the fog over his sight began to lift and what he saw made the muscles around his neck tense and his eyes widen a bit in surprise. Staring blankly at the white haori, the only words he could muster were, "The fuck..." as he followed the man's length from his feet to his metal-plated head, which he figured would total up to at least ten meters. In the presence of such a being, all he could do was stare wide eyed and wonder how he'd managed to escape his watchful gaze thus far. He did have some vague recollection of a rather tall, brutish fellow from the one meeting he'd attended... but never in his wildest imaginations would he have guessed that the man was a titan of such measure. His own lean form paled in comparison, appearing to be a dwarf or a hobbit of some sort. Even though it took him only five seconds to get over it, he couldn't help think about it. Now, normally, that's not a problem since most people have this filter in their heads which prevents them from thinking fucked up thoughts if they see something bizarre. Orca, regrettably, lacked such a membrane. Thus, it was no surprise that he began snickers, covering his mouth with his hand while he imagined how loose childbirth must have left this man's mother.
She must have a freakin' manhole down there, he mused as his entire form trembled with amusement. Now, he could have gone on laughing about it, and even made his thoughts public. But despite lacking a mental filter, he did not lack common sense and figured it'd be best to stop before he hurt the famed 'pride' of the captains. Steadily, he began rising, taking up his full length which seemed rather minuscule, and bowed formally, assuming a stern posture and formal expression though he had no idea what to say. Although he was breathe was still heavy, he seemed to have recovered more or less. Receding from the bow, he wiped the sweat and grime off of his face with the end of his sleeve, when he noticed that the man wasn't even aware of his presence, or he'd ignored him completely. In fact, he seemed to have been in quite a hurry to leave, which almost seemed suspicious, but he was suspicious of everyone and everything. Something was definitely amiss and his spy instincts told him to... well, spy. After all, who wanted to listen to his whiny captain complain, like he did every waking moment, or such was the opinion of his personal guard at least.
As the man walked away, he seemed to notice for the first time the woman present there, and she was even more impressive than him. Now, being a part of Division two meant he didn't get to see that many good looking girls. In fact, the only ones who didn't have their mask on were the ones that handled the paperwork and all of them looked like they crawled out from under a rock. So naturally, he was intrigued. A rather lithe woman she was, though voluptuous nonetheless, with all her curves in the right places and her 'bumps' the right size. Now, this was the point where his man brain should have butt in and started giving him rather erotic images, but before that could happed, he noticed something which would otherwise go unnoticed by anyone staring at her bust. The woman wasn't a shinigami, or at least not one in the proper dress code. Sure she looked steamy in it, but it wasn't what they were supposed to wear. He also knew that all the captains, without exception, were a tight-wads. So it seemed awfully fishy that he'd let her off the hook, unless he intended to do things to her, but why would she agree to let him carve out a tunnel with his big boy downstairs when she could probably have anyone she wanted. No. It didn't make any sense. So, what should he have done? Asked the man to wait? As if that'd work. Attack him? No... he harbored not a death wish. That left him with one, and only one, option.
Sighing and shrugging at the same time, he released the restraints he placed on his spiritual pressure, allowing it to soar however high it could go, which was definitely in the same league as that of a captain. Strands of red energy cackled around him, the earth below him torn asunder and a burning sensation consuming the entire division. That was his spiritual pressure. A reddish hue, threatening to incinerate anything too weak to withstand it's crushing hold. Though despite the fact that it was hot, it was at the same time cold and distant, as if it was emanating from the pits of tartarus itself. A presence to be acknowledged and feared. That was the presence of this man, who identified himself as, "Lieutenant of the second division. Tanasuke Oruka". Even though he knew that the captain was probably exponentially stronger than himself, his voice was didactic and regal as he introduced himself. The real reason for releasing his spiritual pressure had actually been to make sure the woman could not, and would not move, thus forcing even the captain who would probably be unaffected by it, to stop and listen. It risked enraging the taicho, but it was risk he'd have to take, just like the gourd of sake he grabbed from his sash and held out towards the captain, and mused. "Mind havin' a drink? Yer not underage, I'd hope".