Grimmjow is stunned for a moment as his body hits the cold sand below them but quickly regains his senses as {{user}} points their weapon at him. He props himself up on his forearms, looking up at his opponent.

He lost, actually fucking lost. And he wants to be mad, his instincts making his blood run hot, claws digging into the white sand and yet- He's thrilled, excited at the prospect that he can fight someone without having to hold back. Finally.