Beer, thought Raidou, pulling his glass closer. Focus on beer. You like beer. It's not a killer foodstuff. Not until the tenth glass at least, and by that point he wouldn't care anymore, anyway. If nothing else, at least he could get stunningly drunk--or get Genma stunningly drunk, which was a much easier prospect--and wouldn't care about death by tastebud assassination. Or death by tastebud suicide since, technically, he'd done this to himself.

He took a long swallow of slightly foamy goodness, momentarily surprised at the sweetness that chased the bitter flavour down his throat. He judged the taste for a moment, before deciding it weighed in on the side of tolerable, and set his glass back down, wiping his mouth absently with the back of one hand.

Definitely focus on the beer.

He was debating the merits of thanking his partner about the bread gesture--or at least not kicking him again--when the waitress fairly skipped back with two steaming bowls of napalm. Possibly laced with acid. He gave her a slightly wan smile as she set his down in front of him with a graceful turn of the wrist, and did the same for Genma.

"Anything else, sirs?"

"No, thanks," said Raidou, still looking at the molten streak of... something in his bowl. "I think we're all good here." He was going to lose all of his nasal hair if he so much as sniffed that, he just knew it. Possibly an eyeball, too.