It's been a long night, but in the soft grey of false dawn, down by the river, even a hitokiri can get a few moments of peace. A few moments of quiet, to clean his blade, and the still-raw gash on his left cheek, and replace the bandage over the latter
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A greeting.
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But his hand's on the katana. Not drawing yet, of course.
"I know that wolves don't eat men any more than they eat their own kind," he replies. "That doesn't mean you aren't a threat."
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In any case, she's very comfortably laying off the shore on the other side of the river in the grass, her arms behind her head, as she gazes up at the early morning sky. As her mind wanders, so do her eyes, and she turns her gaze to the strange fellow redhead seated on the other shore. She blinks.
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"You should go home," he says eventually, on the off chance that he's not hallucinating.
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She blinks once. "...Do I know you?"
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