The Hollow held his ground as he was approached and passed, turning only slightly so that he could maintain sight of the other - of this Flauros. He seemed to move both swiftly and smoothly. In spite of the awkward feat of ascending the tree, he did so with blinding accuracy. The balance he showed was something that most shinigami would take pride in.
He didn't even smell right, not for a human. Not for anything dead, either. It was like there was some acrid underlay to his scent, faint but ever-present. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"What the hell are you?" Grimmjow asked in turn, not bothering to give his own name. There was no distinction in the way he intoned this question compared to the former; to him, 'what' was just a valid way of determining who a person was as was 'who'.