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[Jan. 26th, 2009|01:32 pm]

fallen_ibiki
She really doesn't know what that coat means. Ibiki took a long, slow breath through his nose, and blew it out through pursed lips. Natsumi had always been impatient, he told himself. When there was something to puzzle out--a note from their sensei, a book of sudoku, a fork in the trail--and Ibiki solved the problem first, he would wait for her to catch up, dropping hints if he had to, trusting she was smart enough to work it out for herself.

She hadn't liked it when they'd been genin, and she didn't like it now, obviously, as her absurd guess about clubbing hinted.

"I work internally," he said evenly, walking over to his coat and extracting his gloves--thin, supple, black leather, still warm from his hands--and holding them out to her. "And I wear that coat and these while I'm working."

He looked her straight in the eye, unblinking, unsmiling. If she didn't get it now, it was because she was refusing to face reality.

She was impatient, obsessive, and smart. But never one to flinch from the truth, no matter how unsavory. At least she never used to be.

She also, like most of Ibiki's comrades, knew T&I strictly by reputation. He wondered if she'd walk out his door and never say another word to him. It didn't seem out of the realm of possibility.
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