"Yes, Lord Hashirama, there are. Thank you again for agreeing to meet with me."He says, drops into a bow, then moving ahead. Before ducking into the little area for the meeting he takes a last glance around.
So his men might want to kill me, but I'm here anyway, interesting. Or perhaps that gentleman was just very good at looking like an imposing barrier. Whatever the case, something about the appearance of this scene has taken an odd character . . . Is this just happenstance, or does that mean something about the way things are? . . . I wonder where they get their swords. The fittings are excellent, but my continued ignorance of the blades is a little frustrating.
Stepping forward, setting the small cooler beside himself as he takes a seat opposite the Dragon. Sizing the man up a little bit, he reaches down and get out the bottle if sake and a few stoneware cups. Setting those neatly on the table, he gets a sudden look as though he has forgotten something.
"Where are my manners? I am given to understand that the Blood Dragons appreciate a number of traditional customs, and I certainly do not wish to be seen as hostile as a mistake of customs. When sitting and discussing matters, most especially as a guest, its a courtesy to disarm oneself, is it not?"
With a slow but evenly paced motion, he reaches into his coat and pulls out his sidearm, gripped from the start around the top of the weapon and not the actual handle so that it cannot be mistaken as a gesture to attack. Using his left, he removes the battery, and sets the pistol on the table off to his left along with the battery a small space further left, the barrel pointing back to Fuma. As soon as that is done, he resumes dealing with the sake. He sets a cup out for Hashirama and one for himself, and holds the serving bottle in both hands to pour for his conversation partner if he shows a desire.
I doubt he is a teetotaler, but one cannot know in this age.
