Grimmjow blinked his eyes once but didn't turn away. It was a very slow process, with both lids closing and opening in unison as if the action required some sort of conscious effort behind it. He could smell the chemical change in the man and the way that adrenaline had started to flow more freely. It was an expected change. That the human held his ground in spite of it was at least somewhat promising.
"It's still strange that people like you--" the living "--can even see me," the Hollow replied, giving no verbal indication as to just how long he'd been following Rufus, or if he'd just come across the man by chance. "But this place is strange. I suppose that should be expected by now."
Looking away in an equally languid gesture, Grimmjow noted the thin path that seemed to weave an erratic path through the trees. One way lead back toward Niflheim. Who knew where the other ended? His ear twitched as a crow sounded in the distance. It was too far off to be seen, but its raucous cry punctuated the stillness of the Deadwood.