Daraku spent the day at the hospital, working as always, but it was a bit slower than usual so he had some time to relax between patients. Jun was still staying with him but he never brought her to the hospital, mostly because she simply wasn't capable of helping at all since she didn't know any medical ninjutsu and so having her there was unnecessary. That, and the fact that a lot of people didn't like bugs. He finished up his shift and started walking back, and even though it was only half past five, the moon was already high in the sky, surrounded by a black mantle and translucent clouds. The sand beneath his feet as he walked was warm nonetheless, meaning that it had only gotten dark fairly recently, maybe 15 or 30 minutes prior. His outfit lacked color; a white shirt that had the Sunagakure medical-nin team symbol on the left breast, a black flight jacket, gray sweatpants and black sandals. In the moonlight, all the colors blended into a monochromatic  blur, and every time he looked ahead in the distance, the only thing that stuck out amidst the silver sands was the Kazekage's building. Daraku thought of Suzume, as he did every time he saw the building, before averting his gaze and making a sharp left turn.

Jun rested on a pillow, patiently waiting for Daraku to return. By the time he got through the slums and back to the Ishido stronghold, it was around 7 o'clock. He opened his door and quietly shut it behind him before offering her an unenthusiastic "hello" as he took off his jacket and put away his things. She looked up at him and her wings shivered. "How was work today?"

"No different from yesterday and the day before. It's good work, though. We're always helping out the village and that's what's important." Daraku replied before plopping himself face down on the bed and sighing. "I'm exhausted." Jun glided over to him and landed in his hair, crawling around a bit before finding a comfortable spot. "Why don't you go out? Get some drinks, have some fun. You need to relax." Daraku's body jerked suddenly and Jun had to hop out of the way to avoid being squished as he rolled over onto his back. "I could but I just feel so strange. I have no friends, I haven't been with anyone in a long time, I hardly ever drink anymore."

"Then change that. Go out. Make friends. This is your village, and you do everything you can to support and protect it, so why don't you go make some friends? Get to know some other Suna-nin? Find that special someone. It's all in your hands, you just need to do it." Daraku looked at the little moth and smiled. After a month long bout of depression, what better way to get back to being the Daraku everyone knew and loved than to go to the sandbox and get black-out drunk? So, he figured she was right, and next thing he knew, his white shirt and sweatpants were replaced by a pale gold hoodie with the Ishido clan symbol on the back in black and black jeans, and he was well on his way to the Sandbox for the first time in forever. Also strange for him was the fact that he hadn't brought any of his swords, partly because he didn't feel like carrying them and also because it wouldn't be necessary. Then again, last time he was in a bar, he was attacked and ended up trashing the place and killing two Kumo-nin. Nonetheless, he reminded himself that he had other means of self defense in order to reassure himself. He wondered when he became such a worrysome person...he used to be so relaxed and insouciant.

The Suna-nin kept his hands pressed firmly in his front pockets like he usually did, and he couldn't seem to get rid of his resting bitch face. He really wasn't in that bad of a mood and he was a little excited to go get drunk but all his responsibilities and the thought of Kiyoshi haunted him, ever present in the back of his mind and bending his lips into a glower.

The Sandbox was crowded and kaleidoscopic lights poured out from the windows. Music from within could be heard from a couple of blocks away; it really was the only hub for nightlife in the village. Daraku got in line to enter the club, beholding the animation of it all.

I suppose... It could be worse...

Mari sighed to herself as she stood by the doorway of Sunagakure no Sato's infamous Sandbox. A club and bar, usually reserved for those eighteen and over. Tonight, however, was a rare exception for the girl who had accepted the duty of being the club's bouncer for the night. Even during the evening, the heat of the desert still permeated through the inside of the doorway. While the girl wasn't sweating, she still felt rather uncomfortable. Her attire was a sleeveless black lolita dress, exposing her petite shoulders and collarbone, black layers fell into a skirt with white lace at the edges. A black corset, also decorated her white lace, had black and white ribbons at the top and the bottom, with a frill lining the top of her chest. It was nothing but the usual attire for the girl of lolita taste, especially for the Suna heat.  Her black boots tapped against the floor as she crossed her arms. Off of the flashing lights came the reflection of the girl's Suna forehead protector which was tied around her left arm. Eyes watching the partying and drinking patrons, she sighed to herself again.

It wasn't exactly the temperature that made her uncomfortable. Blaring, near deafening music, bodies bouncing against each other, and with the overbearing smell of alcohol and sweat just created a rather... Seedy environment that the girl didn't exactly favor. Nevermind the fact that she was underaged. But, apparently, age didn't matter in the life of a shinobi. For when she was hired for this certain task, no one seemed to question the fact that it would be sixteen year old girl who would be the bouncer for an adult nightclub. All she had to do was kick out the patrons who were having a little much fun, also known as careless drunkards. It wasn't that hard of a task, but perhaps it was becuase she was Genin that she was forced to do grunt work.

As well brought up another problem, Suna hadn't had many new recruits as of late. And as with the apparent disappearance of the Kazekage, Mari's home seemed to be in quite the predicament. There wasn't much the girl could do, she realized that well enough. But she did hope that whoever did take power to Suna after the council would decide, would be a fair and just leader. She thought of her traveling parents, who likely never has to deal with such problems since they had no particular allegiance to any village. When she had returned from Kumo, a stack of letters and journals to be archived had come from the Land of the Moon, which, if Mari remembered correctly, didn't even have a hidden village. With the matters of her home still fresh in her mind,  she could only will herself to get stronger and one day achieve her one personal goals set by her Clan. To kill the killer...

All the while, the girl was getting distracted by her own thoughts. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a mix of blonde and brown hair. An odd choice of hairstyle, unique to only one individual Mari had known. The girl blinked once, her eyes widening in surprise.

Ishido-san?

There was no mistaking that the man in the golden hoodie and black jeans was the very same she had met in the graveyard in Kumo. It shouldn't have been as surprising, since she knew that he was from Suna. It would only be sensible for them to run into each other. Mari just wasn't exactly glad that they would happen to meet again in the Sandbox. While it was obvious that he was an adult, she really didn't favor the possibility of him getting the wrong idea about her with seeing her at a place like this. Blushing, the girl placed her hand on the bow on the right side of her head, turning herself so her face couldn't be seen. Searching frantically she saw the hostess come up to the door, possibly just to check up on the girl. Mari nodded with a yes, whether or not that had been the question, and quickly pulled the woman to the front door.

"Perhaps you could watch over the entrees for the time being? If you would excuse me, I must go to the restroom."

Without waiting for a response, Mari headed further into the nightclub. Losing herself in the crowd, she kept her eye on the door. All she needed to do was keep of out Ishido's sight. When he would enter the nightclub, she would go back to the door. And when he would start to leave, she would just have to "go the restroom" once again. An easy enough plan, and if successful, the entire incident could be forgotten. Perhaps she then could coincidentally run into the man at a more convenient place.

Of course nothing ever seems as easy as one thinks.

As Mari scanned the heads of the crowd, she suddenly caught sight of a man with silver hair and downcast violet eyes. She couldn't quite believe what she was seeing as small gasp escaped from her lips.

Seiryū-kun?!

While in any other situation, the girl would have been glad to see the shinobi she met in Kumo. Of whom, she didn't ever think she'd ever see again. But fate was indeed a funny thing, and sometimes the cruelest as well. The latter being what fate was tonight for the girl. She wouldn't him to be getting the wrong idea either. It would have been simple to avoid one man, now she had to avoid two?! And one of them already in the nightclub, it was likely he had entered before Mari was set at her post at the door. He hadn't noticed her yet, he seemed to be wandering the crowd with little reason. Had he... Been drinking? From the first and only time she had met him before, she had noticed that there did seem to be something melancholic about the man with silver hair. She wasn't one to judge those who drank, it just so happened the girl had never done so herself. She was still only sixteen after all.

Blushing even more now, Mari kept her hand on the side of her head. Turning herself around once more, hopefully so her face couldn't be seen. She remembered the other man she had to keep track of and turned her eyes toward the door. Had he even entered yet? She had been distracted by Seiryū that she didn't see him! Had Seiryū seen her by now? What would she even say to him? What of Ishido? What was the girl to do?

1152 Total Words~

Mari's Bouncer Attire:

Nearly half an hour waiting in the line and Daraku was finally let in. The spectacle was even more grand seeing it right in front of him. Tables and booths full of people laughing and talking, a neon flooded dancefloor, strippers, and a bar in the corner. Daraku's original intention was to go straight to the bar, but his attention was diverted for a moment as a woman with long brown hair walked by in six-inch heels, a black skirt, and a pastel, deep v-neck top. His instincts drew him to her like a bee to pollen, so he followed her for a while, until he found himself in the middle of the dancefloor. The crowd moved in fluid rhythms along with the music, and the lights danced along with them. Daraku finally caught up to the lady as she stopped next to some other women, presumably her friends, and started to dance. He came face to face with her, flashed his bright smile, and looked into her eyes. He danced with her in order to assimilate to the crowd, gyrating his hips and letting his torso bend with the every movement too. "Hey. I'm Ishido, Daraku..." The look on her face was obvious disinterest, and she gave him a smirk. "And I do not care. Go after some other helpless, desperate girl. I'm not interested." Daraku didn't usually take rejection and harsh words like that very lightly, and most of the time, an interaction like that would get him flustered and embarassed, but he just kind of continued smiling at her. His charm rushed ahead of him without him even thinking about it. "I think you've got the wrong idea. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, and if I did, I'm sorry. I'll back off, but I just saw you walk by and I couldn't resist at least trying to talk to you. You're really beautiful." She stopped dancing and just stared at him. A nice attempt, but she wasn't receptive to his flirting, so he called it quits and headed over to the bar.

Do girls not like me anymore? I used to have women all over me, and I guess it has been almost 5 years, but I haven't changed that much, have I? Daraku sighed to himself as he plopped down onto a stool and slid some ryo across the counter. "Umeshu on the rocks. I need something sweet to balance out all this bitter in my life." The bartender took the money and poured the drink, gently setting the short glass on the counter in front of Daraku. He smiled back at the bartender and offered a polite "thank you" before slamming his face down onto the counter. What's it like having a social life? Whatever happened to all my friends from the Academy? He lifted his head again, grabbed the glass, and guzzled his drink. It wasn't strong at all, but what had he expected from wine? He finished off the glass immediately, and made sure to get something serious for his next drink. More ryo was slammed onto the counter, catching the bartender's attention with the thud. "I'll take a whisky, straight." He prepared himself mentally as the bronze-colored drink was placed in front of him, and he took a hearty swig before banging the glass back down on the counter. It burned as it moved down his throat, and as unpleasant a feeling that it was, he relished it.

A brief survey of his surroundings brought a look of slight surprise to Daraku's face. There was a man a couple stools to the left, who was getting up and preparing to venture out into the club, probably to dance or meet someone. This person was wearing a navy shirt, black pants, and black sneakers. The reason Daraku was taken aback was how familiar the face was; sharp chin and jawline, and a full head of white hair above a pair of thin eyebrows and mauve eyes. Seiryū...? he thought, recalling their encounter in Kumogakure. And just as quickly as he recognized him, Daraku watched Seiryū disappear into the crowds.

Daraku was entirely focused on his whiskey, having nearly forgotten that he'd seen Seiryū minutes ago. It's not like he would be happy to see him, anyway...their first and only encounter was full of attitude, sarcasm, and general mockery, and once he had been provoked enough, it led to threats against Seiryū and a trigger for his schizophrenia. He'd gotten his mental faculties together, so he wasn't feeling violent or anything, but he still had a bit of resentment toward the man. He finished off his glass and made idle conversation with some guy who had sat down next to him. He was worried that the stench of alcohol on his breath was too strong, but ultimately he figured it wouldn't be a problem since the whole club probably had the same smell. Their conversation reached an awkward end and Daraku rubbed his eyes and faced the other way to watch the dancefloor and scope out attractive women. Instead, he caught a glimpse of the same, silvery hair he had seen on Seiryū's head earlier, but this time he had a petite woman in a black and white dress holding his wrist. Had he gone to find his girlfriend or something? Daraku pondered the idea for a second, and suddenly he realized who the girl was. Mari! Yet another Sunagakure ninja he had met in Kumogakure by chance. They had met in a tomb while he was on a  task for Kōsai, and she had been writing a story and using the tomb as a motivational creative setting of sorts. Just as he cleared his throat to speak, she bursted out, announcing with her hand and Seiryū's both raised:

"Seiryū-kun is...just a friend!" Daraku cracked a silly smile and just nodded, resisting the urge to laugh. "Good to know! And good to see you, Mari, I knew we'd run into each other eventually. I don't know how good it is to see you, though," he said, looking to Seiryū. Regardless of his feelings toward his fellow Suna-nin, he could admit that he was out of line and threatening Seiryū was certainly inappropriate and malevolent. He relaxed a bit, letting his arm slide off of the counter and onto his lap, and when he spoke next, his tone was much lighter and he let his newfound integrity show in his eyes. "...look, Seiryū, I know we got off on the wrong foot back in Kumo, and I really shouldn't have acted so irrationally. I wasn't mentally stable and I took everything too personally; I'm sorry about that, honestly. I think I've changed a lot since then and I just want to extend an offer of friendship, I guess. There's no real reason for us to be enemies." He maintained the smile on his face in an attempt to be welcoming and kind. He could already feel the inebriation starting to set in.

In the back of his mind, Daraku also wondered how Seiryū and Mari knew each other, and whether or not they actually were only friends or if Mari didn't want Daraku to know that they were together. He didn't care much either way; it wasn't his business. Curiosity had merely piqued his interest. He looked at the two of them and waited for one of them to say something, preferably Seiryū since he had just poured his heart into an apology for him.

Seiryū made a point to show that he wasn't readily accepting Daraku's apology. He voiced that such threats against ninja from the same village made him question Daraku's loyalty, and also that while he would be able to forgive Daraku with time, he wouldn't forget their first encounter and starting over anew would be unlikely. Daraku had already gotten what he had to say off of his chest, so he just nodded in response instead of dragging on the conversation. After that, Seiryū turned to look at Mari, who was evidently uncomfortable and rather shy. "So, I presume this is the person you were looking for? Or trying to avoid. Now, why would you want to be avoiding someone?" Daraku's mind was already heavy with whiskey and it took him a while to keep up. Mari explained that she was on a mission to be a bouncer for the night, and that she had actually been trying to avoid both of them. He blinked slowly a few times, resisting the urge to hiccup. In order to justify herself, she said that she didn't like to make missions personal, so she was avoiding them to prevent that, even though she also stated that she didn't expect either of them to be the type to have to kicked out by a bouncer. Daraku looked back on his teenage years as she said that, and he laughed aloud. "I don't know about that one. I tend to have a little too much fun when I'm drunk, I could tell you a story or two..." he chuckled, with a cheery tone. He was talking rather quietly without realizing it, so the two may have been unable to hear him over the blasting music. It didn't matter, though; he was practically talking to himself anyway, looking back on his rebellious years nostalgically.

Mari finished her explanation by adding that she also didn't want the boys to get the wrong impression of her, seeing her in a trashy strip club like the Sandbox. According to her, she was underage and so she wouldn't have been able to come without permission as a shinobi on a mission anyhow. Daraku nodded, then he ordered another whiskey. He took this one much more slowly, in well spaced sips. He basked in the warm sensation with every swig going down his throat; it was less harsh after a glass. "That makes sense, my first impression of you being that of a quiet bookworm, I knew there had to be a more high-brow reason for—" the hiccup finally overcame him, and it interrupted him mid-sentence, "—you to be here. But I understand, it p-probably is better to focus on your mmmmission than to sit around with your friends." It struck him that these people knew him and even if their meeting at the Sandbox was completely by chance, it was a social moment and likely a bonding experience at any rate. Did this mean Daraku that had actual friends in Suna? He couldn't contain his stupid smile; it was a wide, inadvertent grin that formed dimples on his cheeks and lightened up his eyes. Another question came to mind: was he, the sage, Sannin, world-class medical ninja and expert swordsman of Sunagakure no Sato, a lightweight??? He brought his glass to his lips once more. OF COURSE NOT! Daraku turned to the man he had talked to moments ago, staring at him absentmindedly. I'm not a lightweight! I'm not even... his mind trailed off, dismissing the very concept.

A second hiccup escaped his mouth. I'm not even drunk. HE'S drunk! The man clearly wasn't drunk, but Daraku's perception was already becoming too distorted to convince him otherwise.

The alcohol in his system was really slowing Daraku down, but he did his best to keep up with the conversation and the liveliness of the club. Seiryū was sarcastic as ever, replying to Mari with a stern "Yeah, your mission is more important than us nobodies." He continued by saying that he and Daraku would be fine at the bar by themselves, and he quickly downed an entire glass of some reddish fluid. Daraku hadn't heard his order very clearly, but it looked like rum. It seemed Seiryū was quite the experienced drinker, and Daraku smiled dozily. Now it's Seiryū's tuuuuuurn! Drink some more, drink some more... he chanted in his head as if Seiryū was a god among men ready to down as many glasses as possible before he'd black out. Flashing lights and bright colors. Daraku looked back at Mari, who was still standing before them. She was tripping on her words, although in a different way than Daraku was; from what he could tell, she was trying to suggest that they all hang out some other time.

Next thing that he knew, Daraku noticed a man approach Mari and touch her shoulder. He towered over her and he looked pretty gross, so Daraku squinted at him. Who the f*ck...? He asked Mari if she wanted to "dance" for him, which sounded pretty rape-y to Daraku, so Daraku stood up from his stool and reached for his sword...wait. He turned around in disbelief, then spun in a circle and faced Mari again. He'd forgotten that he hadn't brought his weapons! A bottle came flying at the bar, and the bartender jumped out of the way. Daraku moved forward as the glass shattered, keeping himself out the glass' path and getting closer to Mari and the goon. The adrenaline helped clear up Daraku's mind a bit and he looked to the goon with a scowl. "Oh ho ho, you better watch the f*ck out, buddy. I'll end you." Mari was already on it, and she kicked the guy in the leg before moving away. 2 more guys appeared, joining the first and attempting to surround Mari. She insisted that she could handle them on her own, but Daraku stood next to her. "I'm not letting them hurt you. I'm fighting with you and we're gonna take them out together."

With that, Daraku dashed forward and punched the guy on the left square in the jaw. His strength was enough to knock the guy over, but his hand hurt and he wished he had his swords. "Take that!" he called out triumphantly.

With two out of three of the goons still standing, Seiryū approached the one on the opposite side of Mari. His face was serious and his movements were significantly less coordinated, likely getting drunk like Daraku was. The big man came at Seiryū with an attack, but Seiryū dodged it and countered with an uppercut into the man's stomach, knocking him to the ground. Seiryū continued to stumble forward until he was behind the man and in front of Daraku and Mari. The last man went for Mari, enraged, but he had the same weakness as his comrades and was ultimately too slow to land a hit, and she tripped him with a kick. A crowd had formed around them to watch the fight ensue, and it seemed that the three men were defeated, thanks to them. Daraku made a symphony of hiccups and yawns, and he didn't even know how long he'd been at the bar but he knew that he wasn't ready to leave yet, either. He threw his arms into the air and cheered loudly, before letting them fall back to his sides. "That!...was a thing. Nice job, guys." he said, facing Mari and then Seiryū. She thanked him and Seiryū for their help and apologized for everything that happened, but Daraku rolled his eyes. He came close to her, put a heavy hand on her shoulder, and his unfocused, tipsy eyes met hers. "You're a nice girl, but I'm teeeeelling you. Just relax, take a chill pill, don't worry so much."

With that said, Daraku removed his hand from her, still conscious enough to understand that prolonged contact may have been a little creepy. He swiveled on his feet and faced the destroyed bar, and the bartender had gotten back to his feet but was visibly shaken by what had happened. Daraku approached him and smiled some more. "I! Would like! ANOTHER WHISKEY!" he yelled. The hype was real, and the crowd cheered for him. He struggled to stay on his feet. "So give it to me, bartender guy!" The bartender held back a giggle and grabbed the whole bottle, handing it to Daraku. "It's on the house. Go wild, kid." Daraku's eyes lit up and his smile beamed as he grabbed the bottle and took a swig, and in that moment, he knew that he wouldn't be able to get him on his own. He probably would black out before he finished the bottle. Either way, he was enjoying himself. He grabbed the bartender and kissed him on the lips before turning back to his friends. Ha, friends. He felt like telling them that. "YOU TWO ARE MY FRIENDS! HUZZAH!" The crowd probably wasn't even listening to what he was saying but based off of the volume alone they cheered for him anyway. Daraku was reveling in some kind of mediocre glory.

Mari assured Daraku that she would try to relax, which brought a smile to his face. She was a good person; he could see it in her eyes, in the way she acted, in her concern for others. Daraku didn't see that quality often, or maybe he just didn't pay attention usually, or maybe his emotions were more keen when he was drunk. Seiryū said something quietly, and he and Mari started to interact. In the midst of his euphoria, Daraku watched Seiryū and Mari talk, but they were speaking quietly and were closer to one another than to Daraku, so he couldn't quite hear them over the sound of the music. His hips idly swayed back and forth and his head bobbed along with them inadvertently. Then, there was a sense of urgency as Mari grabbed Seiryū's arm. Daraku blinked, and she spoke again, now more audibly. "Seiryū-kun, you are injured!" He looked at Seiryū blinking again. He didn't look all too hurt; Daraku stepped closer and noticed cuts and broken glass on the arm that Mari was holding. His thoughts rolled back to the destroyed bar and the glass counter...

Mari went on about how they should go to the hospital or at least take the glass out of Seiryū's arm, and considering Daraku was a medical ninja, he knew that he was the man for the job. The god complex set in. "Mari, didn't I just tell you not to worry so much?" his speech was slurred but perfectly understandable because of his volume. He was speaking rather loudly, both because he was drunk and because he was trying to be heard over the music. He got a little closer to Seiryū and made a ram hand seal, building chakra and trying to focus. It was a bit difficult because of how hazy his mind felt, but his body knew what he was trying to do and it seemed to work anyhow. Medical ninjutsu was second nature to Daraku, after doing it most of his life. His hands started to glow.

"I'll take care of your arm, Sei." he said as he started to pull the glass from his friend's arm. The wounds afterwards bled profusely, as the glass had kept the blood from escaping, but he held his hands just over Seiryū's arm. "The cuts should be closed within a few minutes, just don't move too much." He smiled at Seiryū, his eyes glazed over from the alcohol pumping through his veins.

330/345:

OOC:

Daraku finished healing up Seiryū's arm and took his own hands away, displaying the fact that the injury was gone. He seemed proud of the work he'd done, but he figured all Seiryū cared about was getting it done since he had told Daraku to make it quick. Nonetheless, Seiryū surprised him with a quiet "thank you" and Daraku replied with a polite "you're welcome". Daraku went back and picked up his bottle again, drinking a little more from it and then setting it down. His vision was starting to blur, and the sounds around him started to confuse him. All signs that he was going past the point of no return, which was a concept he had been well familiarized with in the days when drinking was a daily thing for him. Now, he felt pretty shitty and didn't like the way it made him feel. His stomach was churning like a volcano ready to burst and he felt it building into his esophagus. He immediately abandoned his bottle and ran past the dancefloor, toward a secluded corner where lines had formed for the restroom. He cut the line for the men's and pushed a burly man in front of a urinal out of the way before letting his head hang over it as he emptied his stomach. He vomited like he'd never vomited before; a messy ordeal where it smelled of piss and alcohol and faded orange chunks and hot acid burned in his throat, on his lips, in the urinal. A coughing fit followed and then a surge of weakness in his legs, and he collapsed onto the tiled bathroom floor, breathing hard. He managed just enough energy to bring his left hand to his face, wiping residue from his mouth and coughing some more. The guy he'd pushed struggled to get his junk back into his pants and then, clearly flustered, started to yell at Daraku. He yelled about how he was going to kick Daraku's ass for pushing him, how he got piss all over his jeans, how he thought Daraku was an absolute idiot, but Daraku was practically on another planet.

Exhausted and defeated, Daraku left the bathroom, completely ignoring both the angry man following behind him and the crowd of irritated men who had watched him cut the line. The journey from the bathroom to the dancefloor and finally to the bar felt like it spanned dozens of kilometers when he knew somewhere in the recesses of his mind that it was only a few hundred feet, in reality. This wasn't reality, though, this was hell. He was on the verge of throwing up again at any moment, and he was starting to get dizzy. By the time he made it back to his friends, he looked like a mess, to put it simply. "I...I think I need to...go home. Whiskey...don't. The whiskey did. A bad. It's a bad whiskey. And they told me to drink! And I said! ...yes. And now, I am drink. No, I-I'm drunk." He couldn't understand himself. He wasn't sure what he was saying, but it was clear that he was talking to Seiryū and Mari, since he was looking toward both of their blurred faces. With that, he turned toward the bartender and leaned against the part of what remained of the counter without any broken glass on it. "Take me home? I live on the outskirts of Suna...I d-don't think I should go myself alone there." The bartender felt for Daraku, even though he was laughing at him a little, and quietly agreed before wrapping an arm around him and escorting him out.

[ Exit Thread ]

Why not get some training out of whatever this was?: