Classes were over for the day, and the crippled student sat at a table in the middle of the bar. He wasn't perhaps the most usual of people there, happening to be seated in a bright, vibrant blue kimono with a darker blue obi and his zanpaku-to tucked between them. His false left arm was made of bamboo and was in a crooked position, so that it lay against his abdomen when he was standing or sitting, and was more often just tucked into the front of whatever he was wearing to keep it from bouncing about. He smelled of Strawberries and Vanilla, from the shampoos he used, and from his ccurrent choice of odourizer, he also smelled of lavender as well.
Placed in front of him was a small plate, emptied of food, and a pot of tea, along with a teacup that he was currently sipping from. A cigarette, a new kind that gave off no smoke, was leaned on his plate, waiting for him to put his tea down and resume smoking. He had just set his tea onto the table when a boy came into the place. He felt the boy's presence just a little before he came in, but seeing as he seemed to be pretty much normal, he ignored the feelings and picked up his cigarette and sucked on it. He tracked the boy's movements through the place, and pondered the reasons why he would be here, and in such a mood.
The boy had some potential to become a Shinigami. It wasn't special or anything, as anyone here had the potential to become a Shinigami if they tried. It was perhaps that the boy was so young and unlike the people here that he stood out. But he wasn't going to approach the kid or anything. Childhood was best left spent being a child.