Transmission #7-3-7-5; Addendum: Wok 'n' Talk
Kowloon City, Hong Kong; Victoria Harbor Overlook
"The best offense is a reckless one"
1100 hrs; December 3rd, 1963
Guy-Sensei ever taught them the best manner for a one to grow, is to give themselves over to what they fears the most.
THUMP* *KNOCK*
To meet this fear head on with a smile in their heart and a fire in their fists.
KNOCK* *THUMP* "Kyaaa!"
Fear does not make a warrior, but it does hone his craft. Fear teaches him the weaknesses he possesses, the strength he lacks, and what's more, what is worth protecting. Lee was never one for being afraid - besides clowns; he hates clowns. But he did see much in him which has become weak in his time away here. He believed going forth into the world would make him strong, make him into one of those gallant heroes seen in the operas his father would take him to.
Like the great Zhou Yun, Lee always wanted to be a hero. To travel far and wide, looking for adventure, find himself a suitable lord to pledge his services too...
Instead, he found Ngo Dinh Diem. A somewhat fast-talking braggadocios, wide-eyed lothario from South Vietnam who just so happened to be the president of that country. He was impressed by the bus-boy who'd waited on him, dashing through the restaurant with a tower of plates on each arm, who rippled with lean, taut muscle. "The man is a leopard pretending to be a rabbit," Ngo commented at his brother.
Nhu, dressed ever in his military whites, didn't think much at first of Lee. Or the Wok 'n' Roll. Or Hong Kong in general; a goodwill tour to champion the message of South Vietnam's leadership didn't interest him. Least of which in a "floating drug den filled with fake Chinamen with British accents". The middle Ngo brother was a man of action, and so looked unimpressed all night. Barely touching the roasted duck or Ten-Ten's famous pork dumplings. Ever pulling out his silver pocket watch to see how much time his elder brother wasted with this odd waiter with the bushy eyebrows and bowl-cut.
"I was good friends with your master," Ngo told Lee once the dinner rush finished. "A pleasant man - I came to ask him a favor."
Lee regrettably told Ngo that was impossible.
On hearing this, Diem was taken aback. Yet as most men in this place who dressed nice, smelled nice, and had a penchant for fast-talking; Ngo recovered quickly upon receiving the news. Guy wasn't around, and his school had been shut down for quite some time. Hong Kong was rife with old students and past teachers, but Lee and Ten-Ten were the only ones who stuck around.
"Good, I'm very glad to hear that, young man," Diem smiled, his brother Nhu rolled his eyes, and the security detail surrounding the restaurant continued to stare silently; Ten-Ten didn't like them, saying they scared away the customers.
"Hyaa! Ho!" *THUMP*
To be far, Ten-Ten could scare away customers fine on her own. She didn't like people who came into the restaurant wearing suits; she said anybody like that only wanted two things: to sell you something, or lie to you about something. In Diem's case, it was both.
And Lee, ever gallant, ever excitable, and always bright-eyed, was foolish enough to follow Mr. President all the way back to Saigon. For a while it fun - Saigon felt a little bit like Hong Kong in a way. Cramped, stuffy, the tell-tale waft of Western business carrying on through Asian pomp. Honestly, he enjoyed it; but it never stopped him from feeling guilty for leaving. Ten-Ten said she never held it against Lee. But considering the broken training dummies off in the corner, Lee felt perhaps there was still some lingering anger pent up within.
"KYAA!"
The dummy bursts at the seams as Ten-Ten's kick lands flush, breaking the stand it balances on, causing it fly across the yard. She's breathing hard, sweat pooling at the small of her wifebeater, as a few strands of brown hair are loosened from the two buns atop her head.
Yep, Lee gulped, she was angry.
Not necessarily at Lee. Not totally. But at Tokuga, who'd made good on his promise to torment them almost every other day now. And towards the new faces he'd been bringing with him. Foreigners weren't an uncommon sight in Hong Kong. They've had the occasional Brit or Dutchman in to the Wok 'n' Roll every so often. But these Americans gave off a very different vibe.
Well, at least one was clearly American.
The young woman was surly, crass, had an accent she tried to hide terribly; as someone taught to hide his "Chinese-ness" when speaking English by his Yorkshire bred tutor, Lee picked up her nuances easily. Her voice was naturally deep, and every time she ordered food, it sounded as if she was forcing a softer lilt to her inflections. She'd be frustrated by this, fixing her glasses every time, and became flustered.
"Писиси! How the hell do you say this...ummm. Fua..? Fung..? Fung Zeee?"
"...Phoenix Talons, miss?" Lee says, offering to help.
The man in the glasses sighs, before nodding. "She wants a plate of chicken feet, please. Thank you."
"I was taught Cantonese - I know what it says! Wait! Chicken feet? No, I wanted soup - hold on!"
Tokuga behaved himself more or less when the man was present - he'd only made five snide remarks about Lee while waiting on them. It was clear even if Tokuga knew his way about, the only benefit to his presence was that of being chauffeur; the man seemed important enough to warrant a large manner of henchman, but wasn't as clueless as some outsiders were here.
The out of place, faded pink Hawaiian shirt may speak loudly, but he was otherwise polite, mannered, and quick with a joke or a kind commentTokuga may trounce about acting like he was the biggest fish in the puddle, but it was clear he wasn't the one holding the leash. This man had an air of command about him. Control. Where Tokuga and his Triple Threat cronies ever needed to show people how 'tough' they were by saying it wherever they went, this man - Graham Acker - kept his strength within.
"Which is why he's the worst one of them all," Ten-Ten said, dabbing the sweat off her with a towel. "Men like him are bad for business; they say very little, because they mean what they say. And when he speaks to you, I don't like it."
"He talks, I dont listen." Lee tells her.
Ten-Ten narrows her eyes. "You said that last time with Diem."
"We needed the money, Ten-Ten."
"We've managed before without you taking all the risk, and we can manage now. What does he say to you?"
Ten-Ten kept pestering him about this all the way towards Victoria Harbor. The first weekend of every month was spent hunting for deals along the rows upon rows of harborside stalls. Fish from the South China sea sparkle in blue, purple, and green scales; ripe jackfruit and Malay apples; hairy rambutan; boxes of mandarins, loquat, and guava stacked precariously on top of one another. Sizzling duck and cooked hens hung from iron hangers over broiling grills. Smell of the salty air and brine mixed with the sharp tang of gasoline, cigarette smoke and spices. Produce from all over Asia, and even slightly beyond, were for sale - some for half the price, others for double. Lee having spent a spell here as a kid working these shoddy stands, had a good eye knowing where to find the best goods.
"Nothing," Lee says to Ten-Ten, rifling through a bushel of Goa chili peppers. "Mainly he just orders his food and that's it. Tokuga's the one doing most of the talking."
"And I would be glad if you'd shut him up," Ten-Ten grunts, lifting three bags of rice onto their cart - Lee offered to help, but she shot him a short glare. "He was a piss-ant before, but he's been more of a nuisance now than ever."
"He just likes you. Always did since we were kids. Maybe if you go out on a date with him, he'llhrmpff!" Before the next words come out of his mouth, Lee's stifled by a bolo bao shoved into his face; a flurry of curses come out of Old Mum Li, telling Ten-Ten to immediately pay or she'll call over the constable.
Ten-Ten rolls her eyes; the last thing this curmudgeonly old bag will do is call over the out-of-shape, out-of-mind Brit. She knows this, and so does everyone else. More likely she'll get her gangster grandson Moochi. He and the rest of the Triple Threats were out in abundance today. For a long while the Triad preferred to muscle stall owners and merchants in the sunset hours. But with Might Guy gone, they've grown bolder.
"吹漲 - Calm your tits, you saggy old bag! And you, too!" Ten-Ten says, rounding on Lee.
"My tits?" Lee spits out.
"You ever say anything stupid like that again, and I'll break both your legs and chop off your balls! Go on a date with him?! 你以為你係邊個呀! Aiyaaaaa!
Lee gulps down the remainder of the pineapple bun - which Mum Li did a particularly good job today with, and continued trying to convince Ten-Ten there was nothing to his interactions with the strangely pleasant American. "He was a nobody," he tells her. A no one. And Lee right now was a nobody, too - what benefit would he get talking with him? Only thing interesting was the gentleman commented about the Strong Fist Style.
That's all.
"Ugh, Tokuga that 白痴." Ten-Ten spits with contempt. "The least of Sifu's students, and the last person to be saying anything about things he barely understands."
"The Strong Fist Style isn't for everyone." Lee comments as they move their full cart forward. "Once Guy-Sensei...Ugh, I don't know. I just think it was hard for all of us to understand. Maybe it was the same for Tokuga, too."
"He and we are not the same, Lee. You're free to believe that if you want, and if you do, you're a better person than I. But look around, and you'll have your answer."
Ten-Ten nods over to more of the young gang-bangers hanging about - some younger than young, with puffed up shirts and nicer shoes than you'd want to bring to the harbor. Scammers, bullies, informers, street urchins, and pickpockets - They all are running rings, each having a role to play, to keep things under control and to ensure everyone knows who to truly be afraid of here. Lee understood, truly, where Ten-Ten's contempt came from; her own family's debt were racked up terribly by gang runners such as these...
But Sifu Guy-Sensei never blamed those who caved into their fears. Mistakes at times are not bred from solely bad intentions; sometimes, to get out of a bad situation, hard choices are made in order for one to live. When the fear of the worst clouds one's judgement, growth is that much harder to obtain. Yet, the fire of youth is never so easily extinguished. Sifu Guy-sensei always said even the smallest of embers can once more become a bright flame.
It was simply a matter of perspective.
Which for Ten-Ten ever was dictated by the amount left in their purses; which, regrettably, was getting smaller and smaller with every trip. Even with the deals, things were becoming pinched for all. Which made the strong-arming some Triads youths pulled all the more nonsensical.
"Been a couple weeks, 'Peter'. Don't appreciate you stringing us along." Moochi said, cornering the diminutive Cai Lueng and his family; "Peter" was Cai's English name. Not an uncommon thing most Hong Konger's have. But if you wanted to get under one's skin, this was certainly a way to show you wanted their attention. "Duck Ping once, and he'll let it slide. Twice, and you're trying say something. You trying to say something, 'Peter'?"
"I already told Ping I'm working on getting him the money. Please, I was just trying to feed my kids." Cai says, but Moochi wasn't buying.
"What, they don't like to eat cabbages?" The indignation oozes off Moochi's words - at 195 cm, 110 kg, he's look down on most everyone. With the tallest of his four buddies present coming up just under his chin. "Come on, Peter," Moochi throws one of his thick arms around Cai, bringing him close. "You know I don't wanna hurt ya. That'll only make it harder for us to collect, and for your starving kids."
Moochi's massive frame blocked out the midday sun. Flanked by a trio of sneering goons, he was much a fixture of the market here as the red lanterns hanging above the stalls. His booming laugh ran out as Cai stuttered in complete fear. "B-But my cabbages!"
"It's so disgusting what they're doing here," Ten-Ten growled, voice laced with disdain. She turns to Lee, eyes blazing. "These people - who do they think they are?"
"Ten-Ten, let it go," Lee said, clam but also fearful of what that look on his friend's face meant. When they were kids, it never translated into anything good. He'd ever be roped into it, and Neji would be the one to pull them out.
But that was a long, long time ago...
Lee tries to grab at Ten-Ten's arm gently, but she manages to get out of his grasp. Making a beeline towards the group of wannabes, dregs, and pseudo-tough guys, she calls out Moochi by his name - his English one - and tells him to leave Cai alone. "Piss off, 'Bob', or you'll collect my shoe in your ass."
Heh, "Bob".
The name as un-Chinese as you can get. And it wasn't short for "Bobby", either; his parents named him after seeing his head was so big as a baby, they thought he looked like one of the bouy's out in the harbor. A name which stuck with him ever since. A few sniggers come out of Moochi's gang, making the big man grumble. Moochi's face darkens, and roughly pushes Cai away. Like a pin ball the poor man bounces around the rest of his tormentors, but thankfully, they tire of him.
Tokuga's girlfriend's mouth was running again.
"Big ass head, huh?" Moochi growls, lumbering towards Ten-Ten. "Kettle calling pot black; you gotta lot of friggin nerve making comments about the size of people's body parts."
"Better not be another comment about my thighs, you overgrown manatee." Ten-Ten takes a step forward, not backing down.
Moochi matched her step, his towering frame throwing a shadow over her. Lee, trailing behind, feels his heart race. "Ten-Ten, people are starting to look-"
There was - a not-so-small gathering of bystanders began to form a circle. Like a ring. Reminded Lee of all the impromptu duels their Sifu had to deal when the legation forces took hold of Hong Kong. Since, felt like every somewhat loud noise or semi disagreement, people were ready to watch shit go down. "Helps pass the time," ol' Mum Li commented once. The British guards on duty stood off to the side. Unwilling and uncaring to intervene; they were instructed to let locals handle local disputes. Their job was to just come in and clean up the mess after.
"You run your mouth quite a bit. Tokugawa doesn't appreciate that. Nor do we," Moochi sneers. Small, beady eyes swelled in the large expanse of his mastiff-like head consider Lee for a second, then shifts right directly onto Ten-Ten; Lee looked like he was ready to crumble easily, but Ten-Ten stood her ground. Moochi didn't like obstacles in his wake. "He goes easy on ya, because he's soft on ya. Don't know why, ain't nothing soft about ya at all."
"And you're soft all the way around the middle, 'Bob'. Too many of your grammy's bolo baos?" Ten-Ten pokes at Moochi's large belly - more laughs from Moochi's gang.
"Which are very delicious, by the way." Lee chimes in, voice trying to gulp down his nerves. "C'mon, Ten-Ten, let's get back to the restaurant. It's almost lunch time."
Faster than a man his size was thought possible to move, quicker than lightning Moochi's arm snatches at Ten-Ten's collar. Bicep bulging, with ease he hoists her off the ground. "You don't know when to shut the hell up, do you? Tokuga may not have the sack to do it, but I've no problem beating some sense into you, 閪."
A collective gasp runs throughout the crowd - even some of Western guards stopped in their tracks; insults being the first phrases they learned from the locals, many were versed over the things they should or shouldn't say. Moochi - in the infinite ignorance bestowed to him by the heavens above - absolutely said a word one "shouldn't" say. Especially, to a woman like Ten-Ten. Whose face grew redder than a Xinjiang tomato. Even hoisted an inch or two off the pavement, her hands shoot out to grip at Moochi's wifebeater.
"Say. That. Again." She snarls through clenched teeth.
With stinking breath of unbrushed teeth and fermented goat's milk, Moochi leans in close. "Cun-"
Before he could finish, Lee had enough.
The strike comes fast like a shooting star, the backlist connecting with Moochi's jaw. The hulking man is blown backwards, his last word choked in his throat, surprise etched in his caved in cheek.
"Sad Man Finds His Pants"; the third movement of the Strong Fist Style.
Ten-Ten immediately falls into her fighting stance - legs wide, feet splayed apart, and crouched low; "Mantis on a Tea Leaf" was her preferred style. Affording her better movement, and giving her the edge using her strongest assets in a fight. Resting his left hand in the small of his back, Lee brings up his right in an open palm, face calm yet determined, his even breathing calming his nerves and budding anger.
"It is not right for you to be calling a lady such, Moochi. Not with your grandmother present." Lee goes.
"Fuck you!" Moochi spits out a gob of saliva, blood, and what looks like a tooth. A furious look over at his compatriots practically says "what are you all waiting for", and on cue, they're all knocked out of their stupor. Knuckles crack, intentions are telegraphed, and Ten-Ten spits on the ground, goading them forward.
Lee sweat drops; he's just glad she left all of her knives back at the Wok 'n' Roll.
Back in days past - even beyond the Japanese occupation and the Opium wars, this market square by the Harbor was once a place where the masters of the city would gather. Pupils of differing schools would battle it out for control - fists, kicks, knives, clubs; anything to gain an edge was brought here to settle disputes. As Sifu-Guy Sensei would tell it, honor was decided in this place.
Lee didn't think he was fighting for honor.
Nor, Ten-Ten.
And certainly not Moochi or his goons.
Even if Lee felt good having his muscles finally unwind, the power in them being released after being pent up for too long since Saigon; unleashing the Crooked Crane Finds a Cracker, and the Disgruntled Messenger Has A Bowel Movement, did not have the same feeling.
Ten-Ten corrals one vagrant after a wayward punch is deflected by the spin of her legs; she twirls the blow about, bends the man's arm behind his back, and uses the momentum to throw him off to the side. Her cheongsam flaps about when she doubles over, balances herself on her hands, and spins her legs in a helicopter spin to divide the combatants. Lee takes the man - Lazy-Eye Ching - closest to him. Hs first strikes are blocked by a surprisingly adept use of "Mountain Tiger", followed by "Soft Rain in the Emperor's Garden." All Northern Shaolin styles, all predicated on dynamic movements with explosive outbursts; the Strong Fist was a derivative from these.
But whereas the northern styles were hard, rigid; Sifu Guy-Sensei perfected the Strong Fist's style by adding the fluidity of the Henan school's teachings.
Lee ducked and weaved with grace, turning all of Ping's attacks away from him. And though he was loathe to use a man's defects against him, there was a reason Lazy-Eye Ching got his name. Lee kept working his right side, forcing Ching to constantly circle and cover his exposed flank. He lashed out with a Tiger Claw, trying to grasp at Lee and keep him in his sight. One paw swipes hard and catches Lee in his thigh - Lee used this opening, though, to windmill Ching's arm up. The blow delivered underneath Ching's armpit dislocates the arm with a hard crunch, doubling him over.
"Lee!" Turning to see Ten-Ten run at him, Lee cups his hands. Planting hard, Ten-Ten pushes off and is lifted high into the air.
Moochi, now one his feet and with no alternative to his gangster habits, pulls out the small knife he ever keeps tucked away; muscle and bad breath normally do the trick in getting people to do what he wants, but if those fail...
The big man roars in frustration, blood running from his mouth, and snot pooling around his nose. He sees Lee, the one who made him an uglier man than before, and charges. He sees Ten-Ten prime her kick, knows it's gunning directly for him; adrenaline, anger, pain - all these factors stymie a warrior's spirit to control the battlefield. Sifu-Guy Sensei always told his students mind these things, control them, and overcome.
If they can, they will never turn a blind eye to danger. Lest, they turn into Lazy-Eye Ching.
"KYAAAA!" Ten-Ten yells out as he the heel of her foot slams down onto Moochi.
Only thing saving the man from permanent brain damage was most likely the "hardness" of his "big-ass head". Something, Lee wonders if he'll be grateful for afterwards while he's nursing his injuries. Either in the hospital or in Hong Kong's jail cells. "Oi, come'on then, that's enough!" Finally, comes the call of British Police Officer; his white shirt, flushed skin, and auburn mustache cut a stark difference as he muscles through the crowd. "You're all finished now, lass. Let'em up." The two officers flanking him - one a fellow Brit, and the other Chinese, try to pry Ten-Ten off the struggling Moochi; her legs were wrapped tightly around the man's thick neck, and she didn't look to stop.
"你玩我呀？How's this, you son of a bitch!" Ten-Ten screams, fighting against the officers, not relinquishing her thighs from their vice grip.
Immediately, Lee runs over to her. He tries to calm her down before the Brit decides to use the pepper spray get her to let go. Madame Li comes over, too. Yelling a the top of her lungs to have the officers arrest her. Thankfully, for Ten-Ten's and Moochi's sake, the officers doesn't care to hear any of it; the market shift was always the worst, and he had no want for a report write-up. Lee and Ten-Ten - by the grace of abject laziness were let off with a warning, but Moochi and his goons were apprehended after the Chinese trooper insisted they be brought in.
Officer mustache grunts, harrumphs, stamps off; relenting at good, sensible reason for doing his job. The crowd disperses once the ruckus is brought down, and Lee ushers Ten-Ten and the grocery haul as quickly away as the power of youth can manage. "Would it be wise for me to tell you how foolish that was, or you still angry?"
"Still angry." She says. Abruptly. Harshly. And, with a sense she's holding back.
Alleyways of the Hong Kong harbor side pass them by, opening up like the veins of a rotting arm begging to be cut off. Cramped, shuttered, and hiding a sickly dark; they lead to into the no-man's land between the city proper, and where a working middle-class attempts to stay afloat on the fringes. Ten-Ten and Lee never shirked this way - for they were born in such a place.
Here, not only was this the quickest way back to the Wok 'n' Roll, but a chance to see the "truths" tucked away the Crown Dominion government here wants to hide. Like the marketplace, Hong Kong's history here clashes with the present. Graffiti says what most don't say out loud - the red star of the Mainland Communist Party is apparent, alongside the Syndicalist fist. The blue sky and white sun of the Kuomintang is also shown. Beside it, the phrase: "同革命一齊落去，同白太陽一齊落去"
Essentially, "death to traitors, rise the white sun."
"Odd," Lee comments, as they round the corner and head to hill where the Wok 'n' Roll sits. "Things change, and yet they don't. Sifu Guy-Sensei always said people have a tendency to move forward and stay the same. You remember why he said this?"
"Don't, Lee." Ten-Ten snaps, the rumble of their overladen cart sounding behind them. "I'm not afraid of anything. That's not why I'm upset."
"I know."
"I'm upset because in this city there are too many Tokuga's, Moochi's, and partisan hacks. Who talk tough, say whatever, and think they can get away with everything, because no one has the balls to do the right thing anymore."
"I know."
"I'm so tired of pretending they're another part of my life I have to shrug my shoulders at, and walk on by. As if I have to get used to their lies, or out-live them. Which is even WORSE. So, no, I'm not the one who's afraid, Lee. They are - They don't want to change because they don't have the sack to. And I'm not running from them anymore."
"I know..." The words hit harder than they would've, should've; Lee was ever an empathetic person, and fully knew what it was Ten-Ten truly meant to say.
He says he knows, but Ten-Ten scoffs. She grumbles, rolls on ahead, muttering under her breath he didn't know anything.
Same as it was when they were kids, same as it always was meant to be: Ten-Ten was the hot-headed realist, truthful yet sparse with tact; Rock was naive, energetic and emotional; and Neji...
Well, it wasn't worth talking about the man when he wasn't here.
Neji made his decision, as did Rock, and as did Ten-Ten; they all paved their own way into the world once Sifu-Guy Sensei left them. Their roads intertwined at times - how can they not in a city like this, but diverged drastically as time weathers all stepping stones. Fear of change is also an obstacle to overcome, Sifu-Guy Sensei said. It can cripple, it can stunt, and it can hurt one's soul.
"But when the wind blows, don't be the one building walls, Lee," Lee said, recalling the words. "Instead, grab a pinwheel."
They still had plenty of time to prep the food, store it away, plan the day's menu when they returned to open the restaurant. The arched roof pagoda sat silently and quietly, like a loyal dog awaiting for its masters to return home. Lee did the heavy lifting and made sure Ten-Ten steered clear of handling the fragile stuff - eggs, soda bottles, the live chickens. He left her to it in the kitchen, the place she felt most comfortable.
And the only place where she could blow off steam without hurting people.
After, Lee swept the floors, cleaned the tables, fed the stray dogs and cats that filtered in and around their garbage area - saucers of milks and cut up poultry bits were one the menu today. When the sun began to drop and Lee could sense the hungry mouths already beginning to file in, he went to the task of lighting each centerpiece on every table. One hundred and two to be exact. Obviously, not everyone could fill in the establishment. But, Ten-Ten ever liked to be prepared: guests should ever feel like they were being expected.
Lee didn't argue with such a sentiment; she was ever better at running the business.
Yet, business was...hushed a little tonight.
Quieter than normal.
Usual clientele came in, but Lee noticed his usual gambit plying the tables and filling orders was noticeably easier tonight
Ten-Ten didn't pay it much mind, though a look both shared made it clear she understood. Actions have reactions have consequences. Though Lee never voiced what he thought was a rash thing before, meddling in Triad business, making a mockery of Moochi in front of everyone; both he and Ten-Ten expected some form of visitation. Sooner rather than later - Lee hoped 'later', where Ten-Ten preferred it just be handled and gotten over with. Which, in Kowloon City, could mean any number of things. The Triple Threats had a varied manner in punishing transgressions.
None which Lee knew would end in the Wok 'n' Roll not ending up a pile of smashed tables, broken chairs, and - worse - cinders.
Yet, this time the way the gang handled this situation caught Lee completely off-guard. Ten-Ten, too, judging by the clatter of pans and pots in the back falling soon as she saw who walked in.
Tokuga was obvious - Moochi was his man and he'd want answers. The crass looking red-head, too, came in; again, she fiddled with the menu, struggled with the pronunciations, and snapped at the man in glasses for correcting her. He in question, simply rested back, rubbing at his leg which Lee saw limped considerably worse this evening, and was jovially pleasant. As usual. Unlike, their fourth guest. Neji was silent, frigid, and trying his best to make no eye-contact whatsoever.
Clearly, he was forced to be here. Evidenced by the chagrined air he kept about himself, arms crossing over and looking derisively at Tokuga. Who, surprisingly, kept his mouth shut for the time being.
"Lee," the man in the Aviator's smiles.
Lee never gave this man his name prior.
"Glad to catch you here-"
Lee wouldn't really be anywhere else.
"I'm glad we finally have a reason to talk."
Talking is what concerned Ten-Ten about this man the most. She sides up alongside Lee, grabbing hesitantly at his arm, shooting the American an untrustworthy glance. Lee can sense it's scathing aura, but if the blonde-haired gentleman with the green and white and pink Flamingo shirt took notice of it, he couldn't tell. The man smiled and continued on, talking like Diem did not so long ago, with Neji playing the part of Nhu.
"I'd like to talk to you about a proposition I've been meaning to ask for some time. Something I feel you would be most qualified for given your talents. Talents that have drawn quite a bit of attention towards you.." Ten-Ten's grip on Lee's arm tightens, but Lee's eyes go towards the door leading into the Wok 'n' Roll.
Only two men are posted there.
A small security detail - for both Tokuga and Neji to be here. There should be more, so why aren't there. His eyes go back and forth, scanning the place like a cornered animal looking to strike; he doesn't care Tokuga flashes him his sidearm underneath his trench coat, Lee wasn't afraid. Which the American - this Graham Acker as he introduces himself - said he didn't want.
"Listen, whoa, there! This doesn't have to be careless - we don't need to be careless." Graham mention to Tokuga, easing the coat back over the gun. "A situation occurred today concerning some of my associates employees, and yourself. Now, through calm deliberation, and with the help of your friend here," Graham points over to Neji. " - I was granted leave. To come here and talk. To you. Regarding said altercation. Judging by the look on both your faces, plain to see you're expecting the worst. Well, don't worry: my job is meant to avert 'the worst', and bring us all to an agreement benefitting us all."
"Of course, things can still get 'worse' if you let it. I won't allow it, but it can. So, before you think you can fight your way out of this, like you did in the market today, you need to ask yourself how much 'better' the alternative is if you just hear me out. I'm not like Diem, Lee. I'm no snake-charmer."
"Who are you?!" Ten-Ten spits out - she seemed ready to tear the man's face off right there, if Lee didn't grip tight her hand.
"I can be a friend, Ms. Bei. A good friend. If you'll let me explain."