Ichimaru Gin sighed and shoved his chair from the table. Standing to his feet, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes and began to walk back to his room, ignoring the eyes of every Arrancar and Espada he knew were focusing on him. He grimaced and shut his eyes. Let them laugh. He didn't care.
"Gin?" Aizen Sousuke inquired of his second-in-command, glancing up from the breakfast table.
"Iie, Aizen-taichou, daijoubu. I'm just not very hungry."
Aizen nodded and let him pass.
"What's with him?" Yammy asked in his boisterously rough voice.
"Who cares?" Ulquiorra muttered, grabbing the orange off of Gin's plate and peeling it for himself.
'Ah,' Aizen nodded to himself. 'So that's it, isn't it, Gin?' he thought amusedly. He knew exactly what -or in the white-haired Shinigami's place, who- he would think of at the sight of the color orange. The leader of Hueco Mundo rolled his eyes. He'd get over it soon enough.
Back in his own private room, Gin slammed the door and sank to his knees on the floor. 'I miss you, Rangiku…'
A/N: Yeah, I know, it sucks. I don't like it very much, but I was quite stuck on the idea of Gin's drabble…Oh, well. If you don't wanna review, I won't be offended; this was written only to challenge myself.