In which Izuru is fine, really, or as close as he'll ever be. [RangikuxIzuru if you squint]
"Are you okay?" Rangiku asks with a certain confusion in her voice.
"I'm fine," Izuru says, and he means it. The carpet is starting to dig into his elbows and itch his chest through the fabric of his robes, but he's fine. He's usually pretty fine around her--not fine, that's not really the right word, but comfortable, maybe. A little saner.
She crouches in front of him. "You can sit up now," she says. She's giving him a rather odd look, but not an unkind one.
Izuru awkwardly maneuvers himself up from the ground and into a kneeling position. It's not that he's not agile and quick on his feet; it's just that he's not on his feet at the moment, and he's trying not to drop what he holds in his hands.
Rangiku finally reaches out and takes the slim chain from his hands and slips it back around her neck, cinching the clasp in the back. Izuru watches her readjust her jewelry, settle the pendant back in place, and he finds himself imagining the cold metal growing warm against her skin.
"You didn't have to do that, you know," she says. "Sometimes jewelry slips and falls. It's no big deal."
"I didn't want it to break," he explains, a little embarrassed at his earnestness.
She tips her head slightly to one side, a sleepy kitten attempting to understand some odd human's motives. "It's not as fragile as you think," she says as she rises to her feet.
"Oh," he says as she helps him back up.