| [Aug. 10th, 2013|03:20 pm] |
“It is an impressive ass; I can’t argue with that,” Genma said. “I wouldn’t pay a hundred grand for it, though. But then I’m pretty sure I can get it for trade-in-kind, if I play my cards right.”
“”Pfff, you just can’t afford it,” Asuma said, waving an airy hand. “Imitation is never the same as the real thing.”
“Which is why you’re already in those bingo books, Sarutobi.” Genma regretted it as soon as he’d said it—Asuma was far more than just his well-known name. But it was true the Sandaime’s only son had been a high-value target on enemy lists for years. There was a reason Asuma had grown up with an ANBU presence. Maybe it was why he’d become one as soon as he’d turned eighteen: he had something to prove, mostly to himself.
“That was low, sorry,” Genma said. “You know I think you’re worth at least a hundred-thou.”
Asuma tossed him a forgiving wink. “Sweet talking me into a discount, huh?”
“Any advantage I can get,” Genma agreed. “But seriously, what other reasons are there to turn it down? Besides the fact you’d be parted from my company, of course.”
“Of course,” Asuma said, raising his beer in acknowledgement before killing if off.
“You’d still be doing service to Konoha, you’d be protecting the freaking Fire Daimyou, and you’d be with a group of shinobi who are practically as legendary as the Sannin. Well, if you except that fuckwad Orochimaru...”
Kayan looked up, startled at Genma’s suddenly dark tone.
“Sorry, Kayan-chan,” he said. “I need another beer. You want another beer, dude?”
“I always want another beer.” Asuma did the honors this time, extracting a pair of mismatched bottles from the twin six packs. He uncapped them and handed Genma his with a soft clink.
That was one of the many things about Asuma Genma liked: he didn’t ask questions Genma couldn’t answer. They drank in companionable silence, while Kayan groomed strawberry juice off her face.
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