"There's the sugarplum we all know and love," said Raidou, perfectly deadpan. "You have such beautiful sweet talk, kiddo. It brings a delighted tear to my eye."

His shirt was quite probably quailing in terror, but Raidou was made of sterner stuff. One half-dead Hyuuga did not a threat make.

"So is it just my kidney you have plans for, or do the rest of my insides get to play, too?"

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"You should probably stop now, Rai, before he jyuukens your spleen. I wouldn't put him past it, even concussed."

Genma put a restraining hand on Haruichi's arm. "Don't do it, Sensei, or I'll have to hurt you. And I really don't want to do that."

Friendships, like everything else in life, had priorities, after all. Actually the last time he'd seen Haruichi, Genma and Raidou hadn't even known each other. That was kind of a shock to realize. In six short months Raidou had managed to crowd out every other friendship Genma had. Almost like a new lover would. He looked up at his strong-jawed friend and blinked.

There was something there that bore a little thought. Maybe a lot of it.

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Haruichi hissed like a snake in a basket... which had just been poked with a stick. Genma intervened with his cursed diplomacy before Haruichi could assure Raidou that oh yes, he could rest assured his medic was writing up a veritable dancecard for the rest of his organs. So the medic instead made a valiant attempt at whacking Raidou in his smug maw. Which might have worked, had he even the slightest idea of which way was up. And his elbow hadn't mutinied.

"Screw it. I don't have the motor-skills to smack him right now." He settled for propping his arm up, wavering alarmingly in the air but hand more or less parallel to target. "Genma, go and bash his face into my palm."

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