Genma's habit of talking in cryptic clues was getting frankly ridiculous.

Kakashi stayed where he was, back pressed to nothing, and tried to find the mental energy to work out what Genma wanted. To talk; to not talk. For Kakashi to be close; for Kakashi to get away. Fresh, honest ingratitude; a lying pretense of camaraderie.

Bizarre party games, apparently.

He thought they'd cracked it for a moment -- thought Genma was fine with plain dislike, easy-breathing anger, and Kakashi could just relax and be himself, without having to worry about walking the line between caring for a teammate and still being enough of a bastard to not be worth chasing when the mission was done. Not be worth dying for.

But Genma had paled and withdrawn and smelled like smoldering fear, and Kakashi knew he'd gone too far. And now Genma was being insane.

Obviously it was something to do with Iwa watching, judging by that unsubtle eye-flick, but if Genma was talking Konoha-code it was some obscure brand Kakashi didn't know. Yes, Iwa was watching. And?

"Lie," he answered finally, because Genma's scent had given him away. "And two truths. Though that last one is technically a lie: I give great head."

"You give mediocre head at best," Genma said, in the confident tones of a man with the experience to tell the difference. "My sensei would have made you practice juggling sugar marbles on your tongue until you could spit them out smaller but just as round as they went in."

"That's just disturbing." Kakashi had a brief mental picture of Minato-sensei holding out a handful of sugar marbles, grinning broadly, while Obito choked on horror and Rin went bright, bright red, and couldn't even put a name to the emotion that twisted in his chest. "You are deeply disturbed. Your sensei warped you."

"My sensei trained me," Genma said levelly, in a voice with secret sharp edges. "Too bad you were too fucked up to appreciate it the time I showed you."

Kakashi wanted out of this cell right now. His fingers twitched at his sides, the barest visual sign of hands that wanted to clench and snap something, like every one of Genma's stupid broken-healed fingers. He raised his chin, let a breath out, and crushed the urge.

"Oh, I appreciated it," he said, lying-bright, and let that grin come back. "I even said thank you, if I remember right. Do you come by that sadistic streak naturally, or did someone kick it into you?"

Genma's scent blackened, but his expression didn't change. "They bred it into me, same as you."

"Oh, bite me," Kakashi snapped, turning away and giving into the urge to pace. The cell wasn't that long; Kakashi covered it in eight strides, then turned and came back. Genma watched with lifted eyebrows, scent still churning through a complex mesh of emotions that were starting to give Kakashi a headache, but said nothing. Kakashi whirled on him before he'd finished his third lap. "You are completely inconsistent," he spat, in the same tone of voice judges used to accuse mobs of murdering small children.

Genma's mouth dropped open. "Me--?" he began.

"Shut up," Kakashi cut him off. "You are just -- phenomenally insane, and weird, and you make no sense." Genma was starting to make abrupt shutupshutup motions with his hands, like a man trying to redirect a herd of charging cattle. Kakashi ignored him, frustrated and trapped and boiling over. "I realize it's not your fault -- you were probably dropped down a flight of stairs as a child -- but if you could at least attempt to make some continued sense, or just stay in a corner and not pitch some kind of epileptic fit every thirty seconds--"