Given the Cold Shoulder [Timey-Wimey Lord/Frost] [Closed]

“Soldier! Stand to attention! You’re on duty, damn it, act like it!”
“Y-yes sir!”
Though he was only the seventh seat, the fact that Jason Buck was in the eleventh division, and the person he was barking at was an unseated officer in the thirteenth, it was obvious who would be more intimidated by who. In response, the more nervous of the Shinigami stood upright, positively quaking in his sandals. Were it not for the fact that they were in a forest, Buck would have accused the man of soiling himself. Given the situation, a person couldn’t blame him if he did.

“Now, give me the lowdown, maggot! What’s this about a Hollow in the area?! Why haven’t you sent that thing back to the realm it crawled out from under?!”
“We… W- well, I…”
“Speak up, hippie!”
“We’re not even sure it’s a Hollow!”
By now, the unseated officer was close to tears. You didn’t need to be a genius to work out that he wanted out, fast, scared that Buck would beat him black and blue. It’d happened before – someone had begun an argument with the mentally-inhibited Death God, and both had ended up just as beaten as the other. Yet, most of the time, Jason was the only one walking away with a grin. Without warning, the man ran off, crying copiously. Some would say that he would rival a Shunpo master in speed, given how fast he was running. Jason groaned under his breath, and began searching for the presence that had been reported in the area.

Jason sniffed the air.
He didn’t exactly know what it would achieve, but as he had the sensing ability of a particularly crushed and pulverised walnut, it was safe to say that he found looking the old-fashioned way worked a lot better when he went on solo missions. He had heard talk that there were going to be restrictions on him being allowed out on his own, due to his excessively violent tendencies, but it had not been put into action. So he did not react. Instead, he now began calling out to whatever it was that had roused attention, in a voice directly intended to mock.
“Come on out, I dare you! Oh look, a human soul! Hi there, what’s your name? Srumptious McDelicio- Just get the Hell over here already!”

((please add the appropriate tag(s) to this topic. Thanks!))

((Ah, my apologies. Fixed that up, I think.))

((Yep just maybe add one of these so it's a little more clear.))

“Come on out, I dare you! Oh look, a human soul! Hi there, what’s your name? Srumptious McDelicio- Just get the Hell over here already!”aid, stirring the fraccion from his sleep. His yellow eyes slowly drifted open, observing his surroundings. He was resting on a tree branch some eight feet from the ground, inside for what he thought previously an empty forest. He felt two powers, one close, but not quite to his own, and a weaker one. The stronger one should not have left the weaker one alone, for the unseated was no match for Frost. The weaker being's death would quick if he chose to pursue, but he did not. He was more interested in this stronger one.

A smile crept up on his face as he saw the shinigami approach, filling his empty heart with anxiety. It was time to get to work he decided, and dropped from the branch, landing firmly on his feet. He expected the shinigami to sense him now, but as the seated warrior kept running like a maniac, he saw he could not. Frost brought two fingers to his mouth and let loose a loud whistle to get the Shinigami's attention then called out mockingly, "Yoohooo! Over here!"

Drawing his machete, Jason faced the direction the whistle and call had come from, his perpetual state of aggression all the more clear now. He was no good at sensing things, this much was certain – however, he did have some sort of basic ability, and it wasn’t hard to pick up the enemy he had located via sound and sight. His scowl turned to one of mild amusement, happy that he was finally going to be able to fight something – he wasn’t particularly happy he’d get no opportunity to kill, but this mattered little, in the grand scheme of things.

“You! Sissy boy! Come quietly or face Shinigami justice!”
Standing with no discernible stance – or technique at all, for that matter – Jason pointed his machete’s tip towards his foe, tip gleaming in the dim light that reached them. He wasn’t actually hoping that his opponent came quietly – if any did, he beat them seven shades of silly, regardless. He always hoped his foes put up a fight, making things more interesting In fact, the only reason he had drawn his Zanpakutō was to make himself look better. However, given the condition of the blade’s appearance, and how unsuited it was for combat, intimidating the Fraccion would be no easy task.

It was a good thing he couldn’t process fear himself.

The man just kept insulting him... and it was irritating him. Frost drew his own Zanpakuto, taking a moment to bask in its glory. It wasn't a normal zanpakuto, as it wasn't a katana in the slightest. Also when it transformed, it didnt physically. It's edge tore through flesh as well as cut. The gap in the middle of the blade made it easy to catch and disarm incoming sword strikes.

The fraccion's yellow eyes moved it's vision from the blade to the threatening shinigami. He lowered the blade and answered his call. "I see through your act... you were going to attack me anyway.", he said, scratching his chin. "I will let you make the first move, make it count.", he said, stepping closer, holding his blade to his side.

Jason did not see that it was, most likely, a trap, or something to humiliate him. He did not see that the fight could be over before it began. He saw nothing, except the opportunity to make the first move. Using this to what he thought was an advantage, the Shinigami sheathed his Zanpakutō, fists raise, his war cry sounding at the top of his lungs. He felt no fear and sensed no danger. He knew not of this ‘common sense’ that people seemed to constantly try and drill into his head. He cared not for the rain of blows he might receive. It was debatable whether he felt pain or not. All that was know, was that he was angry, and was charging.

This was a fairly standard battle ‘tactic’ of his – charge in, all guns blazing. There was nothing Jason Buck loved more than beating seven shades of bloody out of anything and everything that opposed him, and if the Fraccion stood in his way, then he deemed it worthy if a smack round the chops. He’d beaten many a Hollow to re-death with his bare hands, breaking limbs and spirits without the use of his Zanpakutō. He did not see what difference was present now, only noting that this being in front of him was hostile, and was his target. Therefore, he felt he had enough reason to swing a burly fist at Frost, not caring about where it hit, or even if it hit at all. He was just swinging like a man possessed.