| Murakami Sumire ( @ 2008-02-28 01:35:00 |
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| Entry tags: | genma, raidou, sumire |
It Takes Your Last Saving Grace [Closed to Sumire, Genma and Raidou]
[Following "It Takes Time to Recover"]
In the grand scheme of life, Sumire knew three things as absolute fact: she would always have great hair, Shibata was a dick, and Shiranui Genma couldn't come back from a mission without something going disastrously wrong. In fact, that she had to hear he'd returned from his mission through the grapevine rather then to have him show up on her doorstep with a bag of prawns for seafood curry had sent her into a tizzy. She'd "gently" relieved Shirokawa of his debriefing duty, and slid on her long black coat. Shirokawa wouldn't mind anyway, she knew. He absolutely hated Genma after that one party two and a half years ago. Really, by slipping the minor laxative in his coffee, she was doing him a favor.
Surely, she was just that nice a woman. He could thank her later.
The sound of her heels against the hospital tile sounded like rocket fire, and the closer she came to the room on the so-called Suicide Floor, the more irritated she got. It didn't even matter if any of this was actually his fault or not; he'd broken his promise. After getting the assurances from the nurse that her subjects were awake and mostly amiable (a state she was bound and determined to fix), Sumire opened the hospital door and looked at the two recovering shinobi.
"This," she stated as she swept into their room, "doesn't look anything like a 'light wounding', Genma." Sumire frowned at him, her lips a thin line.