When your sparring partner made an obvious mistake, and you deliberately didn't take advantage of it, and he made it again, the second time watching you carefully, taunting you with the opening he'd given you, there was really only one action you could take. Because that second time, it wasn't a mistake; it was an assertion that he was so damn good he could make a genin-level mistake, let you have the advantage of it, and still win the spar. Obviously, if you had any pride at all, you could not let that stand.

"So," Genma said, turning a devastatingly charming smile on the waitress, "my buddy and I really like a good, hot curry with a lot of complexity. We were thinking prawns. How's that Mangrove Country-Style one?"

The waitress blushed absolutely on cue, and looked down and to the right, then back at Genma with sparkling eyes. "You'll really like it," she said with enthusiasm. "It's definitely one of our more interesting dishes. And the chef lived in Mangrove for over five years, so you know it's authentic. He was an apprentice chef at the PawPaw Casino Hotel in the capitol."

"Excellent," Genma said, and leaned back, twisting his shoulders, straightening one leg a little, so his foot came out from under the edge of the table and just barely tapped her shoe. "We like it extra-spicy, right? No wimping out on the good stuff. We've both been to Mangrove, so we know how it should be."

The poor waitress blushed like she'd taken a bite out of a raw chili and shuffled away half a step at the seemingly accidental touch. "You don't have to worry about that, sir." She gave Raidou a shy glance as well. "The chef will be thrilled to have guests who can really appreciate his work," she said and giggled. Giggled!

Genma grinned with the deep satisfaction that comes from outmaneuvering your sparring partner. "Make sure you bring us a pitcher of whatever beer will complement the curry best," he added. He wasn't without mercy after all. And nothing tamed the heat of a hellfire curry like a good beer.