| [Feb. 2nd, 2008|02:56 am] |
"I'm 'the hell back down here' doing a job that apparently needs sorely doing," Haruichi replied, prickly temper not about to be assuaged by Raidou's good cheer. True enough, he wasn't trying to kill the bigger, stronger, older, better agent - but it sure as hell wasn't because of those facts (things like physics and superior ability to break one's face had never stopped Haruichi starting a fight, and likely never would).
Haruichi set about healing the various bruises and knocks on the agent, but wasn't about to work on his jaw. That was specialist work if the man ever expected to be able to eat crackers again, and Haruichi (though perfectly capable of it) was not about to spend two hours realigning every fibre of muscle, bone and nerve in Raidou's Punching-Bag's face. Not on his first day back, anyway; he still had forms to fill in. As he worked he spoke to Raidou, though he didn't look up from the patient.
"I'd ask how things have been in the service the past few years, but judging by the evidence before me it remains the same testosterone-addled assylum of the maladjusted it was when I left." His fingers found a particularly nasty contusion that looked like it had come from something rather alarmingly right-angled. "They've changed the carpets at the Entrance Desk, though." Haruichi hadn't thought it was possible for them to chose something more dishearteningly offensive to the eye, and yet they had. Incredible. Only ANBU were capable of proclaiming 'abandon all hope ye who enter here' with a paisley weave.
He finished and looked up at Raidou, irritatedly shoving a few strands of dark hair out his eyes. "How have things been in the field?" |
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