"You didn't seriously ask me to identify with a flower, did you?" Asuma asked around a mouthful of cake. "Because it's still way too early to find my masculinity in question." At least Ginta had slowed down a fraction; long enough for Asuma to actually follow that almost-linear trail of thought.

His left hand, still clean of cake-crumbs, found its way to his waist and absently tugged at a frayed thread unravelling from his fire-kanji sash. He'd volunteered alright, but he wasn't quite prepared to talk about why, yet. Particularly not to a skinny childhood not-quite-friend who'd bounced into his room with a ready grin and an ulterior motive.

Besides, how did you put my entire team just died and I thought signing up for another one seemed like the thing to do into words that made actual sense?

Well--like that, he supposed.

He glanced at his talkative breakfast companion, thought he saw something a little softer in those sharp blue eyes, and flipped the conversation back on itself. "So, up in Lightning--kill anyone I know?"

Soft was one thing, subtle was another. Asuma wasn't really sure he liked either.