Hanzo takes McCree out to try sushi, the cowboy enjoys a bit too much Sake...
"Waz'iz?" The slurred words escaped McCree's mouth, a frown upon his thick brows. "Fishes?" With something of a hiccup, he unceremoniously slumped his frame against the wooden surface of the restaurant's bar, sinking his face into the soft material of his poncho with a snort. "Like shootin' fiz ina barrul..." He smirked, before raising his head to peer at the fresh sashimi stabbed with one end of his chop sticks on a plate.
Hanzo sighed while sitting next to the inebriated cowboy as he delicately ate and drank. He had come to the conclusion that it might have been mistake to have let the man try Sake; it seemed a life of drinking American alcohol was hardly suitable preparation for the effects of rice wine. What was the point of them going to a nice sushi bar if McCree was too drunk to appreciate something from his culture, or rather, the closest thing possible to it while stationed in London. The poor man, while fascinated by the small ornate cups the liquid had been poured in, had gulped it down as if it was some cheap shot of spirit and then proclaimed it had no effect. And continued to do so for another four entire carafes in quick succession. Well, the cowboy was certainly feeling its effects now, that's for sure.
Hanzo's eyes glanced over to him, a slight smile creeping across his features as he saw McCree desperately attempt to eat the sashimi with both chop sticks in his drunken haze, the morsel limply dropping to the plate before he could place it in his mouth. The cool and collected cowboy was a complete mess, becoming increasingly flustered and annoyed as his food refused to cooperate with the eating utensil that, to be frank, he wasn't entirely using correctly. He had to give him credit for trying however. McCree had a subtle pink hue spreading across his cheeks from the alcohol flooding his bloodstream, which amused the archer to no end. Hanzo couldn't stay annoyed at the man's fumbling, and he wa- something touched his tattooed arm.
Having seemingly given up on his food, McCree had turned his attention to his Japanese friend sitting to the right of him, squinting his eyes as he studied the decorative art encompassing the majority of Hanzo's left arm with a prod of his finger.
"Hanzo...Why you hav fish on your arm?" McCree queried in confused interest as he inspected it.
The archer gently batted the man's finger away from him. "My friend, it is a dragon, not a fish." He said curtly.
The Cowboy squinted his eyes even further. "Oooh, I see! But whyz is has whiskers? And why is it flyin' in a storm on you arm?"
Hanzo indulged the man's somewhat silly questions. "This is an Asian dragon, quite different in its depiction to what you probably know as the European dragon. The tale is that he flies within the storm because the sky wept in sorrow and anger when he lost his bother; the lightning engulfed the earth and the rain fell from the heavens to remind the dragon of what he did. You see-"
"Shhhz shhh shz! All this spek of rain...Think I might be needin to hit the John..." McCree interrupted, suddenly standing while clumsily grabbing his hat and placing it on his head. "Tell me of this mighty dragon when I return!" He smoothed his poncho sluggishly with both hands before turning to make his way to the bathroom, leaving Hanzo with a bemused expression on his face.
The man hadn't taken more then three steps before he ended up on the ground, the whole scenario hilarious to McCree as he giggled like a school girl. Hanzo peered around the restaurant - who's patrons were watching the whole situation - absolutely mortified. He apologetically looked to one of the many waiters of the establishment, placing his cup of Sake on the bar.
"Could we have the bill please..."