Child's Play [Closed Log] [Konohako and Hanabi]
Takes place during the gala just before the bombs hit.
Hanabi had trained all of his life to be a noble, sophisticated and diplomatic Hyuuga. He'd spent more time learning table manners than he had spent learning how to use a kunai. Events like the one he was currently trapped in were the purpose for his gloriously misspent youth and Hanabi had come to realize one shining fact as a result of the past day and a half of this gala:
If he heard one more person tell him he was the cutest little heir to a noble clan they'd ever seen he was going to have a homicidal break.
Which was why, he thoroughly suspected, his mother had spent so very long drilling into him the restraint he was employing to keep from pitching one of his geta into the nose of the middle-aged Daiymo's wife cooing over him right now. The thing was, Hanabi reflected as he kept his eyes attentive and his smile faint, he was too well trained. Anybody else with an ounce of soul would have rebelled against this interminable situation hours ago and been right to do so. But not him. Not Hyuuga Hanabi. Not repressed, meticulous, responsibility-swamped Hyuuga Hanabi.
What he needed was some spontaneity. Some recklessness. Some lunacy and foolishness. He needed it before he lost his mind.
Come to think of it, where was Konohako?
She was, at the moment, smiling in a painful way as an older nobleman was telling a very long, drawn out story about her grandmother that contained far too many useless and even non-related details. Inwardly, Konohako was wondering why NO ONE had mentioned the possibility of TORTURE and also, if she moved fast enough, could she be under one of the table-clothed refreshment tables before anyone noticed?
Tanned fingers were no longer toying with the gold strap of her purse - they were strangling and prodding it to death. A grisly, pounding end that Konohako probably would have considered trading for if it meant that she didn't have to hear one more person comment about her grandmother, how Konohako looked (cute or otherwise) or how precious she was. Especially that...what kind of kunoichi was PRECIOUS?!
Konohako bit the inside of her cheek to keep from shouting at the man as he went off on yet another unrelated tangent. She couldn't even remember what his story was originally about...not that it mattered. All that did was that she was going to die. Yup, any minute now, all the useless words would crowd up into her head and she'd swell like a balloon before it finally exploded all over the room and she'd be done for. That's what they'd put on her memorial: 'Done in by the Tragedy of Greater Word to Head Ratio'. Yeah, that'd be her.
...Or maybe the old man would just say so many words he'd finally deflate like some ridiculous balloon. That would be so much better.
Before Konohako could strangle her fellow conversationalist with her purse-strap, a pale little hand gripped hers around the gold weave and tugged with deceptive insistance. "Ah, sir," the other hand went out for a formal handshake, as would be appreciated by the culture of this particular mindnumbing bore dignitary. "Hyuuga Hanabi, simply a pleasure to make your acquantence. I apologize profusely for taking her from your company, but Konohako-chan and myself have been summoned by the guest of honour to discuss school education in Konohagakure and it apparently can't wait." A tug on her hand, a step back, a smile. "Your understanding is most appreciated." Another step back, a slight bow. "Thank you."
A whisper out the side of his mouth. "Head for the punchbowl on the east side of the room. For the love of god don't let Ibiki see you."
It took a moment for Konohako to register that Hyuuga Hanabi of all people was "rescuing" her. But rivalry or not, she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth (which in all honesty was really a nasty and odd expression. Who was going around sticking their heads into a horse mouth, gift or not?).
Instead, Konohako managed one of her brighter smiles of the past hour and bowed her head slightly. If she tried to say anything, she was sure she was going to bust out screaming in sheer frustrated boredom and that just wouldn't be good for anyone. Step back, bow slightly much like the Hanabit did - because Kami-sama knew that Konohako had no clue what she was supposed to be doing in the first place - and then turn slowly, walking calmly towards the other side of the room where the punch bowl was.
She was admirably in control, by walking slowly through the throng instead of just bolting as soon as she was away from the old man. Then again, it could have just been the sandals. Grabbing a glass and quickly spooning some of the brightly colored beverage into it, she eyed the shorter boy who had joined her. She was only a little suspicious. Just a little.
"So...what were you doing?" she demanded.
"Infiltration and extraction maneuvres," Hanabi replied, ladeling himself a glass of the punch and looking at Konohako with a face that betrayed a good hint of how startled he was with himself for just having BS'd royalty. "In Konoha we don't leave imperriled comrades to suffer. We just wish we did." He took a sip and frowned at his punch. "Damnit, hasn't anybody spiked this yet?"
Konohako almost choked.
Spiked? Hyuuga Hanabi wondered why the punch wasn't spiked yet? She eyed him curiously. What happened to the little brat with a stick up his word-that-gets-her-in-trouble-with-Ebisu? "Uh...yeah. Thanks." She looked at the almost eye-searing red punch. "And I dunno."
A short pause. "Wait, how would you even know if it was spiked?!"
Hanabi took another sip of the disappointing punch anyway. "I've recieved a hollistic education," he replied factually, edging with Konohako until they were on the quieter side of the table and obscured by a particularly ostentateous assemblage of fruit salad. Hanabi wasn't sure, but he thought it was supposed to look like Sarutobi Asuka's face. Needless to say, he wasn't going to touch it.
"I'm not sure how much more of this I can take," he confessed quietly, ducking slightly as a gaggle of unmarried, extremely pretty and terrifyingly gregarious young women prattled past. He'd been captured by them twice already, and was reasonably sure that one look in their handbags would reveal the presence of hefty shovels, for the digging of gold. "How are you holding up?"
It wasn't like Hanabi to be so honest about such failings, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Konohako put her untouched punch back on the table and sighed deeply.
"I think ritual suicide would be a preferable to this. Except it would be more messy. And then you know, the dying part." She made a face and rubbed her nose. "Grown ups are seriously messed up." A pause. "Well, okay, rich ones anyway."
"Already knew that," Hanabi affirmed, deciding to imagine that his punch had been generously dosed with sake and taking a rather severe gulp. Anybody watching would have seen the makings of an accomplished drinker right then, so thank god it was only Konohako. He gently set his empty glass on the table and shrugged a shoulder under his clothes, the weight of the familiar expensive cloth seemingly increasing with every soul-eating second of the wealthy's company. "We're not going to survive this with our sanity intact, Konohako. This kind of nonsense is probably the reason Uchiha Itae went homically insane. Have you got any hare-brained schemes to get us out of this?"
Konohako twisted her mouth, the way she did when she was thinking hard and peered around the frightening fruit salad to study their surroundings and any available exits. There were certainly enough people to provide a decent cover - the only problem was staying away from any noble person-thing that would monopolize their attention or Ibiki, who would not take kindly to her running off.
"Hm..." Konohako looked at the fruit salad and then carefully picked up a slice of pineapple, then a few apple slices and dropped them on the floor at her feet, before carefully doing the same in front of Hanabi. "Get some of those pink fish spread things on the crackers. A couple of good handfuls should do...."
Hanabi's inner neat-freak recoiled in abject horror at the food Konohako had just dropped on the floor, and his face betrayed it in nearly comical relay.
But he grabbed the puree'd raw salmon with quick and eager hands because yes! Something as logically crippled as throwing food on the floor had to be Konohako's talent for spontaneous so-stupid-its-clever distractions. They'd set off a smoke bomb and be out of there in a second, definitely. Or something. Whatever the plan was, Hanabi didn't argue - even when he cringed at the feeling of the whipped fish flesh in his fingers. "Now what?"
Konohako just grinned devilishly and took her heavy punch glass. "Cover for me." she whispered before crouching and began to methodically crush and squish everything together, liberally pouring the punch, just for effect. In a matter of minutes she had a rather disgusting looking mess of food and liquid in front of both of them.
"Hanabi, c'mere."
Hanabi finished smiling politely at a Wave Country princess who'd been making eyes at him across the room (he didn't wave, for obvious reasons) and ducked as fast as he could to crouch opposite Konohako. Inbetween them were two slurries of... oh gods only knew what. It was brownish pink, and stank of unholy food-marriage, and was making Hanabi's eyes water to even glance at - so he kept them fixed on Konohako.
And again, "Now what?" Because this... had better be good.
She scooped up a drippy handful and promptly smeared it on his chin and the front of his costume, before leaning back on her heels to inspect her work with a cocked head. Yup, that looked pretty realistic. The art was not to put too much on yourself.
Without thinking anything of it, she did the same to herself. "How are you at fake crying?"
"What the--!?!" Hanabi's voice stalled, froze in utter incomprehensible shock and horror at what she'd just done. At the hideous slime smeared all over his person and his clothes and the floor and oh gods the smell was making his eyes water and the taste was making him heave and the utter indignity of it all was making him--
Hanabi wailed shock, pain and disaster in a strangled cry that echoed in the ears of all who might hear as the most pathetic wretch of a noise ever.
Half a dozen catering staff were on the scene in a half-second, just in time to see Hanabi's disgustingly tainted hands flailing in stuttering and utterly genuine panic.
"Oh my goodness!" cried a young waitress, "Oh no..." whispered another. Shifty glances were exchanged. Holy crap. Food poisoning.
Konohako was fairly certain he wasn't acting, but she didn't bother to roll her eyes. Instead, she looked up at the waitresses with tears already welling up in her brown eyes, arms already around her stomach. A half sob and half cough, lowered head and then a sniffle as the tears really began to flow.
She was so good that it made her sick sometimes. Then again, she'd been playing at this sort of game for years. Konohako slowly stood, still huddled over a bit. "I think...uh..." A hard swallow. "I think we should go back to our rooms." Big eyes on one of the waitresses. There was a little servant's exit, half hidden by a ornate statue, to keep the wealthy from staring at it. It was just a few feet away and would be perfect.
"Can we go through there?" she made a face, like she was trying to keep everything down.
Still making an ultrasonic screaming noise that sounded like air escaping from a hose, utterly stripped of his powers of speech or reasoning, Hanabi didn't even hear the soft reassurances of "of course, sweetheart," and "oh look at that, you poor things," and "are you sure he doesn't need to see the doctor?" as they were both led through the servant's passage and back to their rooms. His mind was struggling down from the heights of catatonia when he was ushered into his room, at which point he managed to shake his head at the suggestion that he really ought to see a doctor if it was really that bad, and bolted into the bathroom. On went the shower. Off came the clothes. In went Hanabi.
Oh glorious soothing, cleansing water. As soon as he'd killed Konohako he was going to learn all the aquatic ninjutsu there were.
Konohako wasted no time in stripping off her kimono - making sure to clean it off so that it wouldn't stain too horribly - and then messily folded it before stuffing it in her back. She wiped down her face and changed into clothing much better for going ninja'ing. She made a face in the mirror, thinking of Hanabi and his screams.
What a girl.
Having grabbed her specially packed ninja pouches and attaching them to her waistband, she slid carefully out of the girls' rooms and went to the door, gently rapping, before hissing out, "Hanabit!"
The door whipped open, out snaked a skinny pale arm, and in was yanked Konohako. All before she could finish hissing that annoying nickname into the air. Glaring at her with utterly pissed white eyes was Hanabi, an effect that might have been more striking if he hadn't been soaking wet from the shower and had only a towel around his waist.
He let her go, took a step back, and pointed right at her nose. "I am going to kill you. Give me a minute to get changed."
And with that he grabbed his duffel and stalked into the bathroom and yanked the door shut with a persnickitty 'snick!'.
Konohako stared for a moment, before she mimicked him to herself, complete with a much girlier tone and exaggerated features. The girl rolled her eyes again and sighed long-sufferingly. Moegi never would have been like this; he'd have been down on the floor with her, smooshing up a good fake vomit concoction with much glee.
...Well that settled it. Even though he could cook, Konohako would never question Moegi's manliness again. Not even for a good joke.
"Hurry up." she called impatiently, making sure her voice carried without being heard outside the room easily. "Or I'll leave without you." She quickly added under her breath, "Prissy Hyuuga..."
Not thirty seconds later, out stepped Hanabi - adjusting the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt and having combed his short black hair into something approaching order. His white eyes, though, were most definitely unamused as he tugged his belt through the loops of his khaki shorts. That is, until they noticed all the ninja gear decorating Konohako's person. "Did you come armed to the teeth just so we could finally have that battle to the death?"
Again, her eyes rolled.
"No - and its not all weapons, idiot." She narrowed her eyes at him. "A good ninja's always prepared; that's what I was taught. Did they skip that lesson for you? Maybe something more in the flavor of 'oh-my-god-i'm-dirty-so-i'll-scream-like-a-baby' type of technique." Konohako threw in a sniff for good measure.
Hanabi's eyes narrowed and one dark eyebrow arched elegantly like a cat's back. "As a Hyuuga I was taught to rely on my wits and my own two hands." He wasn't about to respond to the crack about his reaction to being assaulted with faux-vomit because damnit he was going to have flashbacks, he was sure of it, and she could just bite him. Absolutely. He pointed at her multitudinous pouches and pockets. "And the simple fact is we can't run about the place armed for bear, Konohako. This is a hall of diplomacy during a festival of peace and victory - what do you think we're going to need to stab besides canapes around here?"
"I dunno. Maybe we'll run up against some evil fake vomit." she stated. "Whatever. I'm takin' my stuff whether you like it or not. Now are you coming or are you just going to sit and sulk he-"
The rest of her statement was cut off by a loud - very, very loud- noise. The type of noise that Konohako was more than a little familiar with, only not on so grand a scale. Any explosions Ebisu had allowed had been very small so as to not blow off any extremities by accident. The girl's dark eyes widened to twice their size as the second, then third blew. Someone must have dropped a couple of serious bombs.
"Come on!" she shouted immediately, dashing for the door.
She'd give him her little "HA I WAS SO RIGHT" speech later.
Hanabi had trained all of his life to be a noble, sophisticated and diplomatic Hyuuga. He'd spent more time learning table manners than he had spent learning how to use a kunai. Events like the one he was currently trapped in were the purpose for his gloriously misspent youth and Hanabi had come to realize one shining fact as a result of the past day and a half of this gala:
If he heard one more person tell him he was the cutest little heir to a noble clan they'd ever seen he was going to have a homicidal break.
Which was why, he thoroughly suspected, his mother had spent so very long drilling into him the restraint he was employing to keep from pitching one of his geta into the nose of the middle-aged Daiymo's wife cooing over him right now. The thing was, Hanabi reflected as he kept his eyes attentive and his smile faint, he was too well trained. Anybody else with an ounce of soul would have rebelled against this interminable situation hours ago and been right to do so. But not him. Not Hyuuga Hanabi. Not repressed, meticulous, responsibility-swamped Hyuuga Hanabi.
What he needed was some spontaneity. Some recklessness. Some lunacy and foolishness. He needed it before he lost his mind.
Come to think of it, where was Konohako?
She was, at the moment, smiling in a painful way as an older nobleman was telling a very long, drawn out story about her grandmother that contained far too many useless and even non-related details. Inwardly, Konohako was wondering why NO ONE had mentioned the possibility of TORTURE and also, if she moved fast enough, could she be under one of the table-clothed refreshment tables before anyone noticed?
Tanned fingers were no longer toying with the gold strap of her purse - they were strangling and prodding it to death. A grisly, pounding end that Konohako probably would have considered trading for if it meant that she didn't have to hear one more person comment about her grandmother, how Konohako looked (cute or otherwise) or how precious she was. Especially that...what kind of kunoichi was PRECIOUS?!
Konohako bit the inside of her cheek to keep from shouting at the man as he went off on yet another unrelated tangent. She couldn't even remember what his story was originally about...not that it mattered. All that did was that she was going to die. Yup, any minute now, all the useless words would crowd up into her head and she'd swell like a balloon before it finally exploded all over the room and she'd be done for. That's what they'd put on her memorial: 'Done in by the Tragedy of Greater Word to Head Ratio'. Yeah, that'd be her.
...Or maybe the old man would just say so many words he'd finally deflate like some ridiculous balloon. That would be so much better.
Before Konohako could strangle her fellow conversationalist with her purse-strap, a pale little hand gripped hers around the gold weave and tugged with deceptive insistance. "Ah, sir," the other hand went out for a formal handshake, as would be appreciated by the culture of this particular mindnumbing bore dignitary. "Hyuuga Hanabi, simply a pleasure to make your acquantence. I apologize profusely for taking her from your company, but Konohako-chan and myself have been summoned by the guest of honour to discuss school education in Konohagakure and it apparently can't wait." A tug on her hand, a step back, a smile. "Your understanding is most appreciated." Another step back, a slight bow. "Thank you."
A whisper out the side of his mouth. "Head for the punchbowl on the east side of the room. For the love of god don't let Ibiki see you."
It took a moment for Konohako to register that Hyuuga Hanabi of all people was "rescuing" her. But rivalry or not, she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth (which in all honesty was really a nasty and odd expression. Who was going around sticking their heads into a horse mouth, gift or not?).
Instead, Konohako managed one of her brighter smiles of the past hour and bowed her head slightly. If she tried to say anything, she was sure she was going to bust out screaming in sheer frustrated boredom and that just wouldn't be good for anyone. Step back, bow slightly much like the Hanabit did - because Kami-sama knew that Konohako had no clue what she was supposed to be doing in the first place - and then turn slowly, walking calmly towards the other side of the room where the punch bowl was.
She was admirably in control, by walking slowly through the throng instead of just bolting as soon as she was away from the old man. Then again, it could have just been the sandals. Grabbing a glass and quickly spooning some of the brightly colored beverage into it, she eyed the shorter boy who had joined her. She was only a little suspicious. Just a little.
"So...what were you doing?" she demanded.
"Infiltration and extraction maneuvres," Hanabi replied, ladeling himself a glass of the punch and looking at Konohako with a face that betrayed a good hint of how startled he was with himself for just having BS'd royalty. "In Konoha we don't leave imperriled comrades to suffer. We just wish we did." He took a sip and frowned at his punch. "Damnit, hasn't anybody spiked this yet?"
Konohako almost choked.
Spiked? Hyuuga Hanabi wondered why the punch wasn't spiked yet? She eyed him curiously. What happened to the little brat with a stick up his word-that-gets-her-in-trouble-with-Ebisu? "Uh...yeah. Thanks." She looked at the almost eye-searing red punch. "And I dunno."
A short pause. "Wait, how would you even know if it was spiked?!"
Hanabi took another sip of the disappointing punch anyway. "I've recieved a hollistic education," he replied factually, edging with Konohako until they were on the quieter side of the table and obscured by a particularly ostentateous assemblage of fruit salad. Hanabi wasn't sure, but he thought it was supposed to look like Sarutobi Asuka's face. Needless to say, he wasn't going to touch it.
"I'm not sure how much more of this I can take," he confessed quietly, ducking slightly as a gaggle of unmarried, extremely pretty and terrifyingly gregarious young women prattled past. He'd been captured by them twice already, and was reasonably sure that one look in their handbags would reveal the presence of hefty shovels, for the digging of gold. "How are you holding up?"
It wasn't like Hanabi to be so honest about such failings, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
Konohako put her untouched punch back on the table and sighed deeply.
"I think ritual suicide would be a preferable to this. Except it would be more messy. And then you know, the dying part." She made a face and rubbed her nose. "Grown ups are seriously messed up." A pause. "Well, okay, rich ones anyway."
"Already knew that," Hanabi affirmed, deciding to imagine that his punch had been generously dosed with sake and taking a rather severe gulp. Anybody watching would have seen the makings of an accomplished drinker right then, so thank god it was only Konohako. He gently set his empty glass on the table and shrugged a shoulder under his clothes, the weight of the familiar expensive cloth seemingly increasing with every soul-eating second of the wealthy's company. "We're not going to survive this with our sanity intact, Konohako. This kind of nonsense is probably the reason Uchiha Itae went homically insane. Have you got any hare-brained schemes to get us out of this?"
Konohako twisted her mouth, the way she did when she was thinking hard and peered around the frightening fruit salad to study their surroundings and any available exits. There were certainly enough people to provide a decent cover - the only problem was staying away from any noble person-thing that would monopolize their attention or Ibiki, who would not take kindly to her running off.
"Hm..." Konohako looked at the fruit salad and then carefully picked up a slice of pineapple, then a few apple slices and dropped them on the floor at her feet, before carefully doing the same in front of Hanabi. "Get some of those pink fish spread things on the crackers. A couple of good handfuls should do...."
Hanabi's inner neat-freak recoiled in abject horror at the food Konohako had just dropped on the floor, and his face betrayed it in nearly comical relay.
But he grabbed the puree'd raw salmon with quick and eager hands because yes! Something as logically crippled as throwing food on the floor had to be Konohako's talent for spontaneous so-stupid-its-clever distractions. They'd set off a smoke bomb and be out of there in a second, definitely. Or something. Whatever the plan was, Hanabi didn't argue - even when he cringed at the feeling of the whipped fish flesh in his fingers. "Now what?"
Konohako just grinned devilishly and took her heavy punch glass. "Cover for me." she whispered before crouching and began to methodically crush and squish everything together, liberally pouring the punch, just for effect. In a matter of minutes she had a rather disgusting looking mess of food and liquid in front of both of them.
"Hanabi, c'mere."
Hanabi finished smiling politely at a Wave Country princess who'd been making eyes at him across the room (he didn't wave, for obvious reasons) and ducked as fast as he could to crouch opposite Konohako. Inbetween them were two slurries of... oh gods only knew what. It was brownish pink, and stank of unholy food-marriage, and was making Hanabi's eyes water to even glance at - so he kept them fixed on Konohako.
And again, "Now what?" Because this... had better be good.
She scooped up a drippy handful and promptly smeared it on his chin and the front of his costume, before leaning back on her heels to inspect her work with a cocked head. Yup, that looked pretty realistic. The art was not to put too much on yourself.
Without thinking anything of it, she did the same to herself. "How are you at fake crying?"
"What the--!?!" Hanabi's voice stalled, froze in utter incomprehensible shock and horror at what she'd just done. At the hideous slime smeared all over his person and his clothes and the floor and oh gods the smell was making his eyes water and the taste was making him heave and the utter indignity of it all was making him--
Hanabi wailed shock, pain and disaster in a strangled cry that echoed in the ears of all who might hear as the most pathetic wretch of a noise ever.
Half a dozen catering staff were on the scene in a half-second, just in time to see Hanabi's disgustingly tainted hands flailing in stuttering and utterly genuine panic.
"Oh my goodness!" cried a young waitress, "Oh no..." whispered another. Shifty glances were exchanged. Holy crap. Food poisoning.
Konohako was fairly certain he wasn't acting, but she didn't bother to roll her eyes. Instead, she looked up at the waitresses with tears already welling up in her brown eyes, arms already around her stomach. A half sob and half cough, lowered head and then a sniffle as the tears really began to flow.
She was so good that it made her sick sometimes. Then again, she'd been playing at this sort of game for years. Konohako slowly stood, still huddled over a bit. "I think...uh..." A hard swallow. "I think we should go back to our rooms." Big eyes on one of the waitresses. There was a little servant's exit, half hidden by a ornate statue, to keep the wealthy from staring at it. It was just a few feet away and would be perfect.
"Can we go through there?" she made a face, like she was trying to keep everything down.
Still making an ultrasonic screaming noise that sounded like air escaping from a hose, utterly stripped of his powers of speech or reasoning, Hanabi didn't even hear the soft reassurances of "of course, sweetheart," and "oh look at that, you poor things," and "are you sure he doesn't need to see the doctor?" as they were both led through the servant's passage and back to their rooms. His mind was struggling down from the heights of catatonia when he was ushered into his room, at which point he managed to shake his head at the suggestion that he really ought to see a doctor if it was really that bad, and bolted into the bathroom. On went the shower. Off came the clothes. In went Hanabi.
Oh glorious soothing, cleansing water. As soon as he'd killed Konohako he was going to learn all the aquatic ninjutsu there were.
Konohako wasted no time in stripping off her kimono - making sure to clean it off so that it wouldn't stain too horribly - and then messily folded it before stuffing it in her back. She wiped down her face and changed into clothing much better for going ninja'ing. She made a face in the mirror, thinking of Hanabi and his screams.
What a girl.
Having grabbed her specially packed ninja pouches and attaching them to her waistband, she slid carefully out of the girls' rooms and went to the door, gently rapping, before hissing out, "Hanabit!"
The door whipped open, out snaked a skinny pale arm, and in was yanked Konohako. All before she could finish hissing that annoying nickname into the air. Glaring at her with utterly pissed white eyes was Hanabi, an effect that might have been more striking if he hadn't been soaking wet from the shower and had only a towel around his waist.
He let her go, took a step back, and pointed right at her nose. "I am going to kill you. Give me a minute to get changed."
And with that he grabbed his duffel and stalked into the bathroom and yanked the door shut with a persnickitty 'snick!'.
Konohako stared for a moment, before she mimicked him to herself, complete with a much girlier tone and exaggerated features. The girl rolled her eyes again and sighed long-sufferingly. Moegi never would have been like this; he'd have been down on the floor with her, smooshing up a good fake vomit concoction with much glee.
...Well that settled it. Even though he could cook, Konohako would never question Moegi's manliness again. Not even for a good joke.
"Hurry up." she called impatiently, making sure her voice carried without being heard outside the room easily. "Or I'll leave without you." She quickly added under her breath, "Prissy Hyuuga..."
Not thirty seconds later, out stepped Hanabi - adjusting the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt and having combed his short black hair into something approaching order. His white eyes, though, were most definitely unamused as he tugged his belt through the loops of his khaki shorts. That is, until they noticed all the ninja gear decorating Konohako's person. "Did you come armed to the teeth just so we could finally have that battle to the death?"
Again, her eyes rolled.
"No - and its not all weapons, idiot." She narrowed her eyes at him. "A good ninja's always prepared; that's what I was taught. Did they skip that lesson for you? Maybe something more in the flavor of 'oh-my-god-i'm-dirty-so-i'll-scream-like-a-baby' type of technique." Konohako threw in a sniff for good measure.
Hanabi's eyes narrowed and one dark eyebrow arched elegantly like a cat's back. "As a Hyuuga I was taught to rely on my wits and my own two hands." He wasn't about to respond to the crack about his reaction to being assaulted with faux-vomit because damnit he was going to have flashbacks, he was sure of it, and she could just bite him. Absolutely. He pointed at her multitudinous pouches and pockets. "And the simple fact is we can't run about the place armed for bear, Konohako. This is a hall of diplomacy during a festival of peace and victory - what do you think we're going to need to stab besides canapes around here?"
"I dunno. Maybe we'll run up against some evil fake vomit." she stated. "Whatever. I'm takin' my stuff whether you like it or not. Now are you coming or are you just going to sit and sulk he-"
The rest of her statement was cut off by a loud - very, very loud- noise. The type of noise that Konohako was more than a little familiar with, only not on so grand a scale. Any explosions Ebisu had allowed had been very small so as to not blow off any extremities by accident. The girl's dark eyes widened to twice their size as the second, then third blew. Someone must have dropped a couple of serious bombs.
"Come on!" she shouted immediately, dashing for the door.
She'd give him her little "HA I WAS SO RIGHT" speech later.