"Further proof," said Raidou, in his brand new thousand fire balls voice, "that this stuff isn't close to edible. It's not even training. It's like a test of willpower for the disturbed." He had a feeling the rasp was going to be sticking around for a while. Perhaps he'd scorched his vocal chords...

He ate another bread wedge--they were actually pretty good--to soak up a little of the alcohol in his stomach, and then negated that completely by taking another long swallow of beer. The sweet taste was actually really starting to grow on him. Either that or some fast mutation of the tastebuds had occurred out of environmental necessity. A kind of last ditch effort at self-defence against the Soup Of Liquid Fire Death.

Baby touch the kunai, huh? Raidou snorted and flicked a bit of bread at Genma, aiming for the chakra point set squarely between his eyebrows. "I'll survive," he said dryly, "It was deeply traumatic and I'll be looking up a therapist--which you will be paying for--but I'll survive." He took his elbow off the table long enough to lift his arms and roll his shoulders back, popping the joints with two loud satisfying cracks. "Give me a minute and I might even be up for trying this Mangrove thing. May as well give it a shot while we're here." And if he didn't he'd never hear the end of it.