Disclaimer – Don't own Tekken.
Thank you, Wiggins.
Tea
Yoshimitsu's choice of teas is atrocious. The Manji leader...or so Raven assumes...is a well travelled man, and so has a seasoned and varied taste when it comes to beverage.
Unfortunately, this "seasoned" and "varied" taste consists of the most aching sweetness that no tooth should ever be subjected to.
Raven likes his tea strong enough to stand a spoon in, and certainly not with the molar rotting molasses Yoshimitsu seems to favour.
"My my, young one," The ninja tsks, clinking his spoon on the cracked side of his flowered cup. "So picky about what thee likes."
"I don't care for tea that could cause a diabetes epidemic."
In his hands, Raven houses a humble mug of green tea. His lip twitches at Yoshimitsu's scrutiny; the other man is leaning back on his chair, his shinobi sandals propped dangerously close to his lap. He is being mercifully quiet, but his eyes are twinkling.
Raven cannot help but let his gaze fall to the concealed mouth. Each time he steals a look into Yoshimitsu's cup, a little more of the liquid is missing.
Once upon a time, this would have initiated a frustrated gaff of laughter, but the clan leader lowers the mighty dome of his masked head and chuckles merrily.
"So full of silent questions, child..."
"Always," is Raven's dry reply. He places his mug on the side.
It's gone cold.