Asuma leaned his weight on one hip. "Technically true," he admitted. "But much less fun. There're cliffs. Big ones. With a rope bridge." He set his tongue against his teeth and made a thoughtful hissing noise. "It has rope."

The slightest flex in Natsumi's fingers suggested she was contemplating the finer points of a good throttling. Asuma weighed the option of pushing more--and possibly winning another one of those chest-plate lifting, I-am-completely-in-control-of-myself deep breaths she seemed so fond of--and decided he wanted to live long enough to see another sunrise.

"There might be shrubbery, too."

Well, mostly.

He lit the last cigarette he was probably going to get for a while, misting the air with pale whorls of smoke, and found a speck of seriousness. "The gap is maybe a hundred feet across. The bridge is wide enough for one at a time, and strong enough to hold a few more. 'Least it was the last time I was here." Which, granted, hadn't exactly been recently. "If you're as bright as you think you are, you'll've already hit on the same idea I did. Want to get moving so we'll be all punctual? I'd hate to cast a bad impression."

He stepped around Natsumi, jostling her unbruised shoulder affectionately with his own, and carried on up the path at a cheerful saunter. A henge spilled over his armour and replaced it with a servant's uniform before the last sparks of ash finished drifting between his fingers.