”Huh?” The red-topped shinobi known as Atagi Uzumaki turns his head, not quite sharply but not dully either, the human equivalent of a pillow taped to a table's corner. Having started off the first half of the day with some workout or training, he's adorned in (what must be only one of, like, a dozen) red tracksuits. He doesn't pull away his arm immediately upon his elbow being touched, but turns to face her instead of instantly inclining his head. Even as she's speaking, marigold irises visibly move over her form pinging from one interesting thing about the girl in front of him to another. Despite it being the action of a nervous person, based on body language he seems decently composed, lips pushed slightly outward as if preparing to drink from a straw.
Any image of a calculating, peaceful individual is immediately smashed to smithereens by the crowbar of Atagi's exuberance, however, flashing her a toothy grin and giving a slight raise of the brows.
”Kicking you out because-- pah, what nonsense, yeah? First of all, I mean, just lookit you.” A gesture resembling a finger gun towards Sadako, reaching out for one of her biceps, at first-- he's got the bare minimum sense of politeness to not poke her, but he gets close. It swings down to gesture towards her core, then down towards her legs.
”You've got the sorta body that's got 'I've been training for a decade and a half' all over it-- so unless you started your venture towards being a shinobi at age two, you easily check out.” A pause. There was a whole lot of assumption behind those words, but the candor of his voice and a certain sparkle in his eye said he had already decided on the truth...or at least, his version of it.
”And even if you are a tiny bit under, well. What idiotic sort of rule is that, anyway? Precocious preteen shinobi are slated to be risking life and limb in the not-so-far future-- I say let them get sloshed, if they wanna!” Inventing an injustice and railing against it all on his own, Atagi takes a moment to turn and shake a clenched fist (crumpling the bills) at the nearest tall building in sight, as if those within were supposed to somehow be responsible. There's a small, two-fingered salute when he turns back her way, then he's darting off into the bar.
What was he doing standing outside one in the first place, anyway? Bar crawling hardly seems like an appropriate pre-exam activity.
Whatever reason it was, he's either long forgotten it or no longer cares, with a new objective immediately presented. It takes a few minutes, most of which are spent insisting that no, he really
doesn't want to try whatever the hell an 'Okada Brainbuster' is, no matter how awesome it sounds.
Returning outside, Atagi's callously tossing a glass full of auburn liquid up and down with one hand, two commandeered plastic glasses hanging from his other. It was evident quickly that he'd likely spent far more than the Ame-nin had given...but he could hold onto the rest of the whiskey and bring it home as a souvenir, he reasoned.
”Mission success, bahaha. Let's find a place to park awhile, yeah?” It appeared that the grass shinobi had mistaken the straightforward
buy me a drink as an invitation to drink, instead.
(
takeda sadako)
