Raidou crooked a half smile. "Wouldn't have offered if I wasn't in the mood," he pointed out with impeccable logic, and for once took the lead, falling into step slightly in front of Genma. It was probably better that way; Genma couldn't see the way his smile stretched to a wide, pleased grin for a moment, tugging the lines of his scar into a rippling wave. It was a pretty foolish expression, and he dragged it back into a much more normal one after a half-second. It was Genma's fault; his enthusiasm was infectious. "Besides, if I hear one more complaint about plain food, I'll cook you myself. Just for the peace."

It was cold outside of ANBU's HQ, with the sun just a faint, lingering presence on the horizon. The visible rim was a bright orange blaze, lit up like a fiery coin. Raidou blinked at it, and then let out a low whistle; the manly man's version of wow. There were other colours; indigos and deep-sea blues; tattoo-ink scarlets and a sort of plastic surgery pink that still went with the rest and blended into an artist's wet dream.

"Nice," he said, winning the award for blatent understatement as he hunched slightly into his sweater, drawing his shoulders up against the bitter cold sweeping in with the night.