| [Dec. 8th, 2011|08:24 am] |
About six of ‘em, Asuma thought.
But none of them were a damn bit of use now, a day’s journey from home with no other back up at hand. He needed Ibiki to work with him, even if the man was a creepy, lizard-blooded automaton.
He held his thumb and forefinger close together. “Little bit,” he said truthfully, because lying was a karmic sin he actually could avoid. And Ibiki wasn’t stupid. “But you’re my only option, so it’s not like I can do a thing about it.”
Ibiki nodded. "Is it me personally, or this mission?" he asked, with all the emotion of an ice cube.
Asuma was starting to think there was something organically disconnected in Ibiki’s brain.
“I’m not real fond of either,” he said.
Ibiki gave a wry, one-sided smile that actually made his face look human for the first time. “Understood.”
The boat bumped against the dock. Ibiki swung away to head on-shore, but stilled when Asuma caught him by the cloaked shoulder, muscles hard as teak.
“Hang on,” Asuma said. “You gonna work with me?”
“Of course,” Ibiki said, all cool vowels and sharp consonants and apparent disbelief that Asuma had even asked. He pulled loose and kept moving, heading for the gangplank and their sailor contact.
Behind him, Asuma pulled a face and threw his hands up, the antithesis of subtle shinobi restraint, before striding after Ibiki, letting his boots clomp loudly on the deck. |
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