Title of the Topic is...(SAL)

Italy, rich with vineyards, small towns, fine wine, and abit of landscape in cramped Europe. Perfect place to be for a girl on the run.

Junko Tenshi is this girl, although not really a girl right now, her apperance fluctuating often, She appears now as about an 18 year old. Her silver hair flowed long over her shoulders, and her eyes were bright and blue. Normally. Today she dropped the disguise and decided to walk around this small winery town as herself. She was wearing a pair of Adidas shoes, no socks visible, making her ankles visible just before the loose fitting jeans concealed her pale skin, and a black shirt, loose fitting, and about 3 X's to large for her was on her frame. her shoulders could almost fit through the hole near the head, and it constantly was dripped on one shoulder or another.

Her military surplus jacket was ripped in places, and it was nearly as ill fititng as the shirt. The jeans would fall down her legs constantly if it were not for a piece of string that were tied around the belt holes. And, she was dirty, the overcast sky had poured down rain the night before, so she was still wet, the cottan t-shirt clinging to her body, and the coat was slung over her shoulder.

All in all, she looked like a hobo, not one person would expect a well placed Shinigami to be living it on the rough like this, which is why she "Chose" this. Her gigai did not suppress her spiritual pressure, but it was non tracable by soul society.

She couldn't take the bus, but she was sitting on a bus stop bench anyway, it was a place to sit, not on the dank and wet floor of an alley at least...

The only thing left to do on Sal's tour of Italy was to see the very spot where Al Pacino died in the horrendous movie that was God Father III. He'd already hit the Vatican with all the style and class of a well placed carpet bombing, causing god knows how much damage in the process.

The small town here was a damn sight better in his opinion anyway. Simple people going about their business in the warm summer sun, the smell of the wine distilleries in the air and the glorious sight of toned, tanned, women just begging to be made an offer that they couldn't refuse.

Sal could have gotten used to this, just traveling the world that he never saw when he was alive with no cares or worries, never having to lift his blade again. It was a pipe dream of course, there was always another war to fight, another enemy that needed a dose of Norongachi lovin'. He could dream though, even the damned can dream.

He was walking down the side of a road, small grey stone houses on either side, the occasional car driving by and the odd pedestrian going about their business. The Gigai he wore was a combat variant, a pricey bastard that he'd had to replace more times than he cared to count, it allowed him to perform at a much higher level than an ordinary Gigai would allow while still allowing him to enjoy the simple pleasures in life: Booze, Nicotine and of course, sex.

He got to a crossing and spotted a girl at the bus stop across the way, to say she had seen better days would be an understatement. She looked like the world had just taken a massive dump on her from a very great height.

He crossed the street and took a seat in the bus stop, at the opposite end of the bench, before extracting a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

"You look like crap Mrs, rough night?" he asked, exhaling a thin cloud of bluish smoke into the air.

Junko shivered, this man next to her was sinister, she could FEEL it, the spiritual presence next to her was fairly large, but that wasn't what made her want to tear him apart, it just felt... Wrong.

She waved Cigarette smoke from her face, shaking her head and coughing abit, crossing her legs and making it clear that she was not interested.

His question was a stupid one, if one was possible.

"Ya think?" she said, with attitude, as beligerent as possible. Something about him pissed her off. Too damn cocky was it.

However she was cold, she let off abit of her spiritual pressure, enough to keep her warm, but her definition of 'warm' would be about Arizona Desert's definition of too damn hot.

That resulted in her clothes steaming dry... and it getting abit warmer on the bench.

Junko felt abit more confident now, looking at the man now, he was well built enough, perhaps handsome enough. The way he walked and talks shows he is used to having his way with people, probably women in particular.

Not happening with her.

She waited for her benchmate's response, oblivious to the rising temperature, and her steaming clothes...

Sal felt the leakage of spiritual energy from the girl, the temperature beginning to rise in the small space and noted the water evaporating from her hair and clothes.

"Who pissed in your coffee?" He asked with a smile. It was quite evident that this girl thought entirely to much of herself.

"That heat thing is a nice trick," Sal said, reclining back and enjoying the warmth, pushing out a little of his own energy to keep the heat in check.

"So whats the deal, Soul Society throw you out for having a stick up yer arse or is this what you'd call a vacation?" He took another drag from his cig and exhaled as he awaited her response.

Junko studied the man, but didn't get the 'heat trick' was her Reiatsu. This guy simply pissed her off...

So... conflict.

Junko clenched her fists as the smoking bastard finished his last sentance. And swung at him, right hook, a haymaker so to speak. Junko had been nothing but insulted by this chump the entire conversation... And this conversation was at an end.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew even if the punch did make contact, it wouldn't do much. Because she was sitting, she couldn't put much on it, to spiritual levels at least, and this guy was abit more nourished and powerful than herself...

But sometimes, it does feel good to throw a punch...

Sal's cigarette hit the ground just as the punch connected, the fist impacting against the side of his face with a meaty thwack and his head snapped to the side. He felt the trickle of artificial blood ooze from the cut upon his lip and he smiled.

His body moved without thought, his actions already determined by an instinct honed for blood shed. His left arm lashed itself out and backwards towards her chest, almost like a backwards close line, with the back of the bus shelter behind them and the relatively enclosed space it was the best retort he could think of, short of levelling the area.

And besides, talk was cheap.