The crimson liquid glittered in its bowl.
Shinriji lay back, more than a bit unsteady. "I'm woozy."
Nodding distractedly, Sori replied. "Yes, I can imagine." He frowned, examining the painting on the wall. "Hmmm. Needs more yellow." He stood up, and opened a cabinet near the door.
Shinriji groaned again.
Just as Sori was about to head back to his artwork, the door slid open. "Hey, Sori. What's up with you playing host to pretty boy here?" Manji crooked his thumb at Magatsu, who was following. Magatsu crossed his arms as he leaned against the lintel, rolling his eyes.
"Old decrepit man...," he started, then tensed at Sori's glance. "I didn't mean you, sensei."
"Of course not," Sori replied placidly, turning to the wall. "Manji, Magatsu is my guest. As such, you're just going to have to, well, deal."
Manji grumped. "As long as I don't have to look at his weird kimono all day, I'll be fine." Magatsu rolled his eyes again, as Manji strolled into Sori's studio. "Hey, Sori? What's this?" He picked up a strange instrument, a wooden box with four strings and a reddish varnish.
Surprising everyone with his speed, Sori whipped around and grabbed the instrument from Manji. "Don't...just... don't."
Hands held up in surrender, Manji backed away. "Sorry!" He manfully ignored Magatsu's laugh as he slunk across the room, nearly tripping over Shinriji's prostrate form. "Gah!" he shouted.
Shinriji groaned again. "What's with you?" Manji was slowly turning red; Magatsu was almost doubled over with laughter in the doorway. Sori waved the sleeves of his flamboyant ukata vaguely as he placed the strange instrument back in its place.
"He's just overzealous when it comes to donating to my art."
"Donating?" Magatsu sobered up, and looked curiously at the bowl. "Donating what?"
Shinriji groaned again, and managed to look paler. "Hmmm. Just some blood for color, is all," Sori replied. Magatsu blanched.
"Oh," was all he managed to say, while Manji smirked.