Swordsmen Aren't My Type [Catherine, Isamu]

There was earnestly no desire to make a scene, she was just bluffing at that point to make his dumb mouth shut up about it. Of course every single threatening thing from her mouth wasn't meant in earnest - likely would've just kicked him again with a bit of heel grind put into it. Her chopsticks were neatly placed on top of the bowl, hands folded in front of her as Isamu presented his little inquiry of her motivations, a light brow raising in response with little change to her annoyed expression, something that didn't convey her true feelings.

"I'd say not enough people hate em, what is there even to like?" A casual response was given as she'd look through the laminated menu for something else that'd sound good, "The Gotei are a bunch of blowhearts acting like they're the heroes. Frauds is what they really are, pack of liars; they aren't out to protect anybody. They're only down here to fill a quota, make sure nobody else is doing that for them, and nothing more. Me? I don't subscribe to their little narrative, they can shove it right back up their asses. Balancers my crack; they're crooks, if this job was so important to existence, then why not get help? They're prideful bastards lording their godly role over us as people suffer, no better than kids swinging plastic swords around."

Of course she put in an order for gyoza, why not?

"But i'm not interested in living under those bellends' thumb. I'll kill as many hollows as I want, they can't tell me what to do."

Isamu analyzed the woman's words with measured silence. Her hatred for the so-called blowhards was inexhaustible, the potency behind it evident in the way each word fell from her lips, filled with vitriol palpable enough to reach his lackadaisical soul. It didn't provide all the insight he would have desired, not to the extent a detailed recount would have, but he didn't need one.

The hate-filled rant fulfilled the curiosity quota perfectly. Chuckling softly, he continued to indulge in his bowl of ramen until there was little more than broth left. Consuming the remnants from the bowl with little hesitation, his appetite partly satisfied, he leaned against the table, placing an order for something sweet. Dango seemed like a worthwhile option.

"Heh, I wonder if those balancers even send us off to a nice place when we bite the bullet. Most theories consider it some kind of heaven, others pose the idea that it isn't all that pleasant. Either way, my curiosity is properly fulfilled. Rather not sour our nice dinner conversation with the ghost samurai," he humored, tapping his chopsticks against the table. In the next moment, he promptly shifted into another mode of conversation.

"Since we're here, I was wonderin' if you might be interested in a big payday. I've found an interesting business partner that could use your murderously efficient skills."

An interesting venture, to be certain, but Isamu was far from a selfish man, and he rarely believed in hoarding all of his potential treasure to himself. Besides, considering how many times they ended up tagging similar targets by coincidence and consequently split reward money in the past, she would inexorably somehow find her way on his path eventually, anyway.

"Says the meat-bodied horndog samurai." She'd murmur as her order was promptly placed in front of her, taking a cautious first bite. Urgh, the texture... Screw it, she wasn't letting her intolerances stop her, and it'd be bad manners to tear them open just for the filling. Didn't stop her from having a look like she'd just put a snail in her mouth, chewing and swallowing the fresh food.

The third bite stopped it's ascent on her chopsticks, slipping out of the grip and unsatisfyingly splatting back on the plate with that offer. A glare crossed her gaze, digging holes into him with her eye's sharpness alone. The guy was a horny slacker that looked like nothing was going through his head, but she never tracked the guy as a liar or someone capable of deceiving her. Or maybe that could be the deceit, maybe it was a trick, the last several years of knowing him on and off.

A memory or two came up which put her anxieties promptly to rest, "I'll have to run it past the old man first. What shit're you wanting to pull me into? Are you really so keen on sharing?"

Or he's probably accepted the inevitability of them getting the same target on purely irritating happenstance...

"Look. I've accepted that somehow, someway, we tend to end up on similar stints which lead to us having to split the earnings. With this? You get your pay. I get mine. We go our separate ways. Cross paths again at some other point. Whatever."

The imposing gaze did little to shift his reaction. If anything, he expected her to react with some sense of hostility. They were assassins, after all. Trust was not easily afforded in their line of work. Even so, his next words were spoken with genuine emotion as he furtively placed an arm against the table, presenting a card with a contact number.

The movement was so swift that even a state-of-the-art camera would have found difficulty in pinpointing his actions. In that next moment, his expression was stern, a jarring departure from that natural air of playfulness his eyes often carried in earnest. He moved a plate around, shifting his fingers around as though pinpointing invisible coordinates.

"Anyway, there's a man in need of assassins with talents like ours. Says he's willin' to pay top dollar for those who can operate expertly and efficiently. Can't go announcing all his plans, but I'll fill ya in on the bare minimum. His target is China. With this information right there? You should be able to get in contact with him. Simply mention my name or somethin' close to it, and he'll know who sent you."

Isamu stretched his arms out languidly, cracking his neck as carried out finishing the rest of the food that occupied his part of the table. His gaze remained appropriately serious, his finger tapping against the business contact with patience.

"Not sure if yer old man'll bite, but hey. I'm just spreadin' the good word to someone who is pretty damn good at their job."

No matter how much she may have annoyed him, her talent as a warrior and assassin was nothing to scoff at. If he found her insufficient, he wouldn't have even presented the idea to begin with. Though he presented as a horny hedonist without a care in the world... when it came down to it, he was every bit as ruthless when it came to ensuring his bottom line was met in full. If she was a liability, he would have employed his best efforts to eliminate her ages ago. She was useful. Efficient.

A necessary tool for a plan like this.

Full payment sounded far more enticing, if the guy was telling the truth at least. Well, if that was the opening agreement then it probably would be upheld - the only reason she was forced to accept halvesies was because they both ended up with rightful credit and the deal had to be modified last minute. Unlike Isamu, her talents didn't primarily lie in the killing of man or critter; she often made more money making weapons, armor, and other materials or constructs for their ilk than purely in killing, it wasn't like she was hurting for money like she was long ago. So, to Isamu's surprise, she had nothing but satisfaction on her face.

"Well firstly, don't lump me with you - we aren't the same," She'd wag her chopsticks in his direction for a moment before taking another unsatisfying bite and chew; blegh, "Second, sure, whatever, vague as hell but i'll take it; Farfar's found weaker leads, if anything it'd be exciting for the old asshole, vagueness normally means more money to him."

Her gaze pierced his own inspecting one, feeling those picking thoughts on her skin. She expected him to do his best on this kind of job; he was a sloppy hedonist but he was always efficient in his work, that was the barest of respects she could afford him.