Ginta was starting to be of two minds about this whole situation. On the one hand, he felt like he really ought to be looking out for Kuromaru, who was clearly in way over his head. On the other, Kuromaru seemed unassailable in his conviction that he could figure it out for himself: strutting through the crowd like he owned it, dressed in mesh and a pink rhinestone eyepatch, for fuck's sake, and flirting.

And breaking hearts, evidently.

Ginta just crutched along in the Inuzuka's wake with a wryly amused smile tracing over his lips. When they got close to the edge of the stage, he reached out and grabbed Kuromaru's shirt. "Give me my drink," he said. "I think I need it. Can you see enough from here?"