| [Nov. 3rd, 2009|05:37 pm] |
Ten, two, and four wasn't much of a hand. Asuma gave his cards a neutral, straight-mouthed look, and reshuffled them as if that would grant him a magic victory. One thumbnail dragged absently down a soft, battered, cardboard edge, but the nurses had already ensured his hands were spotless from wrists to fingertips; there was no dirt to keep him occupied.
"Dad," he said finally, without glancing up.
"Son," said the Sandaime, in the same careful tone of voice. There was a rustle of cloth--his dad was bowing back to Tsume, Asuma guessed. "Inuzuka-san. A pleasure, as always, to see your familiar in such fine spirits. And to see you both recovering so well from your recent exploits. I trust the hospital staff are taking good care of you?"
"As they always do," Tsume said. In his periphery, Asuma caught the brief flash of white teeth, followed by the curve of a true smile. He felt her gaze rest on him, just for a second.
So he looked up.
The Sandaime was smiling--returning Tsume's courtesy, mostly--but his eyes were darker than Asuma remembered, scored underneath with deep lines that bled into crows feet. The angles of his face seemed sharper, beneath skin that looked thinner. Getting old, old man. But he always had looked his worst when his special agents got hurt.
And Tsume wasn't exactly a picture of shining health. The medics had done more for closing up her lash marks than his--girl-skin was more important, or more delicate, or something, than guy-skin--and her throat was neatly bandaged. But her face was still pale where it wasn't livid with bruises, and she moved like an old lady.
Admittedly an old lady who was kicking his ass at blackjack, but still.
Asuma leaned his bare back against the side of a hospital bed, taking a sharp-edged pleasure in the nasty rush of pain from a crushed scab, and tilted his chin up. "Just taking in the scenery, Pops, or is there somethin' specific you were after?"
A gold-edged piece of card flicked into the Sandaime's hand, then landed in Asuma's lap.
"Actually," he said, "I have a small get-together planned. Perhaps you would consider attending?"
Asuma blinked. "You're kidding."
The Sandaime smiled slightly--bloody enigmatically--and then nodded to Tsume and Kuromaru again. "As I said, Inuzuka-san, always a pleasure. Do take care of yourself."
He was gone in the space between one second and the next, without even a crack of smoke to signal his departure.
Asuma threw his cards down. "I hate when he does that," he muttered, and spun the gold-frosted invitation to Kuromaru. "Here, mutt. Have some roughage." |
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