"I am," said Raidou with fragile dignity, "broadening my horizons. Don't stifle my self-expression." The curry was going to take care of that anyway; probably by relocating him to a pine box six feet under. At least it would be an honorable death--at his own spoon, even. Not quite a tanto, but close enough.

I am, thought Raidou with much less dignity, a complete idiot.

At least Genma seemed to be enjoying himself, judging by the laughter. Raidou kicked him gently under the table, winning a point for decent aim, if not adult maturity. He was winding up for another, harder kick when that only resulted in more laughter, but the waitress interrupted, sailing back from the kitchens to set a heavy pitcher of beer sweating droplets of icewater neatly on the table between them. Raidou offered up a small particle of praise that they really did know how to serve it properly chilled.

"Your soup's just going to be another two minutes," she informed them with a sweet little grin. "I told the chef how much you gents like things spicy, so he said he was going to toss a little extra in."

"Oh," said Raidou weakly, resisting the urge to crack his forehead against the linen covered table. "Good."