“The hell are you doing here?”
Masamune sheathed his swords just long enough to present himself as somewhat non-threatening. Just because he had retracted his claws didn’t mean he wasn’t ready to go a round or two with the ol’ captain. There were worse ways to let off steam.
“And what’s with the stupid characters over your head?” Like he was any better. (Granted, he was making full use of the voice-to-text function without even realizing it.) “It almost looks like Latin. Almost. Not really.”
If he couldn’t form an army overnight, he could at least antagonize Chousokabe and feel a bit better about himself. Har har.
So, this grand play had roped Masamune of all people onto its stage. Motochika flashed a grin, resting his new and shiny yet subpar weapon against his shoulder.
"Not even a friendly hello and you're stealing my lines? I'd hope you know how I feel about playing the robbed and not the robber."
Hm? Ah, well that was... something, wasn’t it? He couldn’t hold back the urge to briefly swat at the floating words over his crown but as he half expected it did no good. He decided to ignore his own strange happenstance and prod at the Dragon’s instead.
“And have you noticed your own, how they’re fluttering above your head like mayflies?”
Good. Smooth.
