Warm air washed down the side of his neck, sliding a shiver down his spine; Asuma twitched a glance left. "Pretty sure you're not too old to avoid getting a swat, smartass. They've changed things since I was last here."

This time, it was the monk who flushed crimson. Asuma kept his face straight and bowed back before the little man could dissolve into a puddle of mortification. Then he cast a thoughtful look towards the high double-doors, eyes drifting over the darkly stained wood and gleaming brass handles. It was just possible to hear the sound of low chanting on the other side, the faint chime of bells. Rustling robes as monks knelt and paid supplication.

He pressed his lips together. At belt level, his stomach growled and and clawed at his spleen; a multitude of flowering aches and the slight shake in limbs not quite ready to be moving this soon demanded he sit the hell down. But...

He owed a thank you to someone. And some things always--always--came before bodily needs.

When he glanced back at the monk he found a look that was entirely knowing, and quirked a wry smile. "My partner could do with a guide," he murmured, with a more respectful bow. "I'd be obliged if you showed her where to go." The monk bowed back; Asuma flicked a quick salute at Natsumi, fist over heart, and headed for the double doors. "I'll catch up in a bit, love. Try not to get in trouble."