Genma had no such qualms about the soup. In fact he was downright enthusiastic. He scooped up the oily yellow and orange broth with the ceramic soup spoon the waitress provided, and relished that first mouthful that eliminated any traces of protective coating from his mucous membranes. The second bite obliterated his senses with exquisite, scorching pain. By the third his eyes were tear-bright, his cheeks and chest flushed, and he was grinning like a fool. "This is great!" he said, and stirred his soup, fishing for chunks of crab and little floating spears of baby corn. "Aoba, was right, this place knows what they're doing with spices."

He gave Raidou a smile and raised his beer in a little salute, taking a long, satisfying sip. "The beer goes really good. She picked us a good one, don't you think?" Raidou, he noticed, had the look of a man facing eating a dish he knows has been poisoned. "Course, you probably don't want to fill up on broth before the main course," he added, disproving his words by happily slurping up another mouthful of the fiery liquid. "Luckily there's plenty of crab and veggies, if you stir it up a little. Bet they'd be good on the bread." He fished up a cluster of said goodies from his soup and turned them onto one of the bread wedges, biting into the whole affair with evident delight.

Gods, he hoped he wasn't going to be holding Raidou's head in an alley before the night was out. But he could easily see it coming to that. Stubborn, foolish, prideful man. Genma grinned at him. Good thing he was so damn fond of him.