“Your topic changes are so subtle,” Asuma said dryly. He helped himself to another sandwich—something with mostly salad this time, and a cheerful sprig of mint on top. “I kinda had my eye on Tsume for a while, but she was more hung up on you, ‘specially after you vanished.” Ryouma winced, something like confusion flicking over his face. Hadn’t he figured out Tsume liked him? “Either way, she’s up to her eyebrows doin’ the whole clan bit, so I’m lucky if I get five minutes of her time.” He scratched his cheek thoughtfully, feeling stubble give way to the groove of that old whip scar. Even if he’d had her time—and she’d gotten past Ryouma—he didn’t think he’d have stood much of a chance with Tsume. Too prickly, too wary, too much like a woman guarding old hurts, and he’d never gotten her to explain why.

“Liked another girl for a while,” he continued. “Natsumi. Gorgeous archer; ANBU agent.” He made an explicit gesture near his chest, grinning. “Amazing tracts of land. Saved my life once an’ everything. But she’s the kind of girl you marry, an’ I ain’t ready to start supplying Konoha with more kids to bleed.”

"Askin' too much or givin' too little. That's women all over," Ryouma said, taking a third sandwich and casting a mournful look at his empty coffee mug. "If you're just looking for fun, though, I know more'n a couple girls who'd be into you. Tall, dark, an' straight bein' in short supply around here." He grinned.

Asuma snorted laughter and coffee, half-asphyxiating himself. “Listening to a bunch of lovestruck woman complaining about Ryouma-kun being off the market doesn’t appeal much, but thanks for the thought.”

Ryouma smirked. “I could teach you my ways, too.”

Briefly, Asuma debated shoving a sandwich down the man’s collar. “Y’could,” he conceded. “But then we’d end up a real awkward place when I ask your love-poodle for crazy wildcat sex, an’ I’m not such a fan of gettin’ my throat chewed on.” He thought a moment. “Well, maybe on special occasions.” He signalled the barista for two refills.

"Love-poodle." Ryouma said, slightly strangled. "Oh man. I need to hear you say that to his face. Love-poodle!"

“Better’n a love-chihuahua,” Asuma said, with an eyebrow dance of innuendo. “Not by much, granted, but I guess that makes you his fluffy rot-guy, or somethin’. Man, you guys get the best pet-names.”

Ryouma’s lip curled slightly. "You might want to think that one over a little more. Unless you like sludgy mouse corpses in your bed."

“Hey, don’t be taking out your intimacy issues on nature. Poor little mice never did anything to you.”

The barista returned to fill Asuma’s mug and swap Ryouma’s empty one for another frothy concoction, piled high with whipped cream. She gave them both a wry look. “You guys need to keep your voices down. You’re scaring off my customers.” With surprising speed for a civilian, she flicked Ryouma on the ear, making him twitch. “And women aren’t the only ones who ask too much and give too little. In fact, I’m pretty sure men started that off.”

Asuma snickered into his coffee. “See? Instant karma.”

"I didn't do it yet,” Ryouma protested. He turned to the girl, eyes darkening. "I'm not denyin' it. Probably a good thing we never dated, or you'd have a much worse opinion of men an' of me. We're all bastards underneath."

Well, there was a shiny piece of self-hatred.

Asuma thumped a booted foot against Ryouma’s shin. “Don’t scare the pretty lady, man.” Ryouma’s head came around, something edged and unhappy tightening his mouth and sharpening the angles of his face, like an ANBU mask under skin. Asuma had the absurd urge to whack him upside the head, give him another hug, and keep him away from pointy objects.

He settled for taking another bite of sandwich and nodding at the barista when she pulled herself away.

“You really as bad as all that?” he asked. “‘Cos everyone I’ve talked to seems to think you’re a nice guy.”