Tsume stared down at him, weaving unsteadily, and tried to ignore the calls. "You look better." She dragged her head back up to look for the ninja who'd dropped him. "You gonna toss us below again?"

He smiled cheerily at her and headed toward the mast, where the other end of the rope attached to her wrists was tied. "Nope. The men have been in a much better mood since you came on deck. I figure being a pretty little package for them to gape at can go toward paying back -- well, you didn't kill anyone."

She glared at him.

"But your friend did. Consider it a down payment on his debt."

"I hate you, too," she muttered to Asuma.

The whip-ninja laughed and pulled more slack for the rope around her hands. "Sit before you pass out. I'll come by later and you can stand and show off for the sailors, again. If you're really good, we'll even get you some water."

Tsume dropped even before he finished speaking. She'd gone from nearly frozen to entirely too hot, and if she hadn't been exhausted before--

But she had been exhausted before. The whip-ninja had given her water earlier, one hand cradling the back of her neck, the other lifting it carefully. He'd taken her to the bathroom, too, and turned his back for privacy. He'd laughingly told her that Hibiki refused to go near her now. He was nice, and she hated him more.

The deck scraped her knees, right by Asuma's head. The rope tying her to the mast tightened -- he hadn't given her quite enough slack -- as her hands were yanked up. Not too far, though. She'd live. Her breasts were right above Asuma's face. She glared at him and willed his eyes to stay on hers. "We haven't been moving." Her lips tightened, and she resisted the urge to glance around. "Just sitting here." And all the men were bored.

Not that any of them had touched her. But some of them had language even she thought was creative.