One hand came up, finger extended as if Sano had a most excellent point, which his drunken mind thought he most certainly did. "I distinctly recall the words 'make' 'comfortable', and 'yourself' being used." It had taken years for Sano to learn to not slur his words, even when drunk enough to forget his own goddamn name, and it manifested as his words being much more sharply, clearly pronounced. Ah, well.
Sano rolled over on the bed, pausing for a moment at the juice-boxes, noting idly that Yoshitsune had been slow with this one, huh. He knew the man's habits-had spent enough time with trident's leader hanging out in the hotel rooms he frequented in Kyoto that the maids knew to never clear a juice-box fort in the penthouse suite, ever. The man sighed, turning his bleary, drunken gaze to Spitfire as he sat up.