annexedlogs | Relief Log #1

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Relief Log #1

I. In The Aftermath

After the mission is complete, the new recruits are invited back to Central Command for a patch-up and celebration to let loose and socialize a little bit.

The first order of business is the patching up. Anyone who was injured is welcome to go to the Hospital, if the injuries are more serious. Everyone else, those with smaller injuries like scrapes and bruises, minor cuts or burns or abrasions, are welcome to come to the Infirmary in Central Command. There will also be attendants that tell returning new recruits that if they'd like to learn a little first aid and tend to their comrades, they can also head to the Infirmary.

In the Infirmary, anyone who's not injured but shows up will be instructed in basic first aid so they can tend to their teammates and friends. Nurses will be rotating around to check in on people and make sure nothing is more serious than it looks, but generally, the new recruits will be encouraged to tend to their teammates in order to encourage group bonding.

II. Pool Party

The celebration itself, which happens after the the initial patching-up exercise, will be happening in three large conference rooms adjacent to the swimming pool. In one of the conference rooms, a large buffet will be set up, catered by food trucks and restaurants in the area, with a variety of food. Some of it will be familiar to characters in the game, with a wide array of food from Earth and any other planet or locale that the new recruits might be from. Some of it will be unfamiliar, local cuisines that are heavy on mushrooms, insects, and root vegetables - stews and flatbreads full of fillings and a lot of varieties of meat on a stick. There's also an extensive dessert bar with cakes, cookies, tarts, donuts, bars, and a soft-serve ice cream machine with a lot of different mix-ins and toppings.

The main focus of the party is on the pool, where characters are encouraged to put on a swimsuit and lounge in the pool on a bunch of assorted pool floats, swim laps, or play in the small children's pool where there are fountains. The pool also sports a small waterslide with three intertwining slides that range from extreme speed to slow speed. Through speakers in the area, music is playing that's suitable for dancing or just listening to while characters enjoy the pool.

III. For The Extroverts

In another of the conference rooms, an extrovert's dream is set up. The door is kept closed because the music inside is loud, and the atmosphere is that of a club. There's a small bar area where a bartender serves drinks. While most of the drinks are regular alcoholic beverages that are both familiar and unfamiliar, there is a selection of drinks catered by Robin's, which is known for their specialty cocktails which have a variety of effects - specifically, euphoria, relaxation, and energy - available in a variety of flavors. Servers move through the room with trays of snacks ranging from nuts and olives to bowls of chips and popcorn, free for the taking by anyone feeling peckish.

There is a nice dance floor set up and the lights are low except for fluorescents and spotlights that bathe the room in bright color, and the DJ is playing a mix of techno, rave music, and danceable oldies remixes. Along the back wall there are several booths set up for karaoke, where groups of characters can go and sing their hearts out and/or laugh at their friends who are singing their hearts out.

Did that mission leave you wanting to get wasted and dance the night away? Then this is the party for you.

IV. For The Introverts

Not everyone is cut out for a rave, though, especially not after a tiring and draining mission, and the rebels have prepared for that too.

In the other conference room, just on the other side of the buffet room, there is a party set up for the more sort of person who finds solace in quiet and peace. In the corner of the room there's a lovely tea and coffee bar set up, with an espresso and latte machine, coffee, and a truly expansive variety of teas - white, green, black, rooiboos, herbal, and some local varieties that are made specifically to relieve tension and relax the mind. These local varieties can produce a state of utter relaxation and mental calm that is beyond what normal tea could provide, perfect to drink before going to sleep for the night, or right before a calming nap.

Speaking of naps, for those who don't want to be alone but would like a bit of shut-eye, there are soft bean bag loungers where people can retire to for naps. The music playing in the room is quiet and soothing, lyrical ballads or instrumental easy listening, easy to nap through and no barrier to quiet conversation over a cup of tea. The library has also provided a large shelf of readable popular novels, non-fiction, and other books that might interest the new arrivals - there are novels of most genres that are unique to the Broken World, and research materials for anyone looking to exercise the mind or learn a little about the culture of their new world.

Besides that, there are also a cluster of small tables where games are set up. There are board games, decks of cards with printed sheets of common game rules from the Broken World, and a type of chess-like game that is played frequently on the Broken World, complete with instructions.

NAVIGATION

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Reimbursement? We did not ask for these-- they were sent with no explanation." A huff, "Here, you may have this one back." Rokuro shoves his half-finished tequila sunrise into the chest of the man in front of him.

There are at least twenty empty glasses of various shapes and sizes. For something they hadn't asked for, they had most certainly partaken. What else was one supposed to do with seemingly gifted drinks? Not drink them?

"And we are new here. We have nothing with which to pay you." Judging by the way the ringleader is looking at Rokuro, he can think of at least one thing that might settle the tab, though he clearly isn't about to say as much outright.

"Let's make a wager. Me and my rebel sister here will play you at a game of your choice. You win? We'll pay your tab for the rest of the night. We win? You give us your gear. All of it. And walk out of here buck-ass naked." A point to the goggles sitting askew upon Rokuro's head.

"Those included."

Clearly they weren't in the wrong if it was freely given. Although looking back at the glasses Tech has to wonder if they'd actually drank them all. Surely they'd only had a few...

Since he's been pulled from his seat Tech's forced to stand, proving to have a couple of inches in height over the one whom had grabbed him. The clone starts prying fingers from his collar, looking at them intently like they're some puzzle to solve. "So..." he says after a moment, looking over at the one who'd spoken, "-was this a ploy all along just to rob us? Soften us'up with enough drinks and then pull this act? As my companion here has said, we are new and there's little enough we own that hasn't been provided by the initial funds provided us to settle in. You would be essentially stealing from your employer." His eyes narrow at the...threat? How dare they specifically point out his goggles.

Tech casts a look at Rokuro. It doesn't look like they're getting out of this, and they haven't exactly been attacked so he doesn't feel justified to throwing the first punch.

For fresh recruits to throw the first punch at a rebel group in a rebel bar on rebel territory would reflect badly on them at best, or kill someone at worst. Even if they managed to win the fight, would their new comrades have their backs on the battlefield?

"A ploy? Nah, we just wanted to get your attention is all." The Rebel's attention turns back to Rokuro, "Don't often see a guy dressed like you in a place like this-- didn't think you'd be such a bitch, or drink my stipend with that nerd."

Rokuro's brow raises, lips pursing. As the page of a notoriously unscrupulous samurai, he has been called far worse. Though not in such close beer-breathed proximity. Removing the goggles from his head, he hands them back over his shoulder to the clone.

"Tech, what is a 'nerd'? If it means 'most intelligent man in the room', I would be inclined to agree."

It's not lost on him that they're supposed to be in friendly territory, but then he and his brothers have gotten into plenty of fistfights in similar settings that he half expects someone to come at him with a fist. His expression becomes slightly pinched as he eyes the rebel, even as he accepts his goggles back from Rokuro.

"I...have no idea, actually," he admits as he slips them back on. "But judging from his tone, I do not think he means it as a compliment." The look he shoots them is almost a glare. "In any case, it's foolish to place the blame completely on us. You are after all the one ultimately in control of your wallet. You could have halted whatever gesture of...whatever you were meaning to convey once you saw that it was not proceeding in the manner that you were anticipating," he continues, gesturing vaguely.

"I believe our friend may have mistaken the bar for a brothel." Really, now that Rokuro knows what the 'problem' is, he's far more comfortable. Classless bastards are a yen a dozen where he's from, and they don't appear to be in any shorter supply here.

"I am not for sale, and neither is my companion." He hasn't missed the way that buff woman has been eyeing the clone, now that it's been brought to his attention.

"If you would like our attention, you must come by it honestly. Anyone can buy a man a drink." Leaning back in his chair, folding one long (mostly bare) leg over another, Rokuro knows exactly which of his assets are on display and how they might be utilized. He may not understand these clumsy modern courting rituals, but he wasn't born yesterday.

"We shall play a game. If we win, you pay for our drinks and a round of drinks for everyone else, to make up for the scene you have caused. If you win... you will have our company for the rest of the night. We will drink with you, entertain you, and 'earn' our drinks accordingly. Clothed. The 'goggles' are off the table, so to speak."

Can a one-eyed man bat his eyelashes? Very well, actually. Quality over quantity.

That clarification has Tech blink at the little group in light of this new information. Clearly this is not a situation he's been in before, so it sufficiently shuts him up for a few seconds as he mulls this over. He does nod in agreement with Rokuro. Fleetingly his attention strays as he can't help but wonder about those shoes again, although Rokuro's been sitting for some time now, so any discomfort would have been put at ease.

Things round back to the proposal of a game, and Tech looks away from the shoe on display to the one wearing it. He really does not want to be any sort of company to these people after all the strange assumptions, but the counteroffer is still better than the original and admittedly very unimaginative one that had been put on the table.

Lifting his head, he looks back at the rebels with an arch of a brow as he folds his arms, his stance seeming to sway slightly but he manages to find the counter to steady himself in a casual lean.

"Will those terms be acceptable?" It's easy to go along with Rokuro when the man is exuding such confidence.

Would Rokuro be as confident without ten or so drinks in him? Probably not, but this is one of very few occasions where a solid 'buzz' works in his favour instead of against him. Sober Rokuro would refuse to engage in such tomfoolery, and the entire bar would be leaving with a serious cause of tinnitus. Tech included.

The shoes are tactical in a sense. Because Tech is looking, and so is leader of the rebel rabble and half his followers. The man must know this deal isn't nearly as stacked in his favour, but there's something uniquely distracting about a high heel and flash of ankle that makes the viewer more vulnerable to persuasion.

"Yeah, fine. You've got four eyes and he's got one. There's no way we'll lose." The man smirks smugly, bulky arms folded over his uniformed chest. His similarly stacked female companion looks no less confident. "You've got three options. Cards, darts, or billiards."

Rokuro looks to Tech. The act of turning his attention away from the man who wants it and giving it to another is calculated. Emotion is weakness on the battlefield. To make your enemy angry, desperate, or longing is to chip away at their resolve. Should the Art of War be brought into a casual bar-brawl? Maybe not, but these are the people the rebels chose to challenge, and a battle of (drunk) wits is what they will get.

"I do not know any of these games, so I will leave that decision to you." Rokuro trusts he will pick the game that relies most on skill over rules or strategy.

Edited 2022-09-16 18:14 (UTC)

Such juvenile jokes. Tech rolls his eyes. He's reminded of encounters in the mess hall except these bullies don't all wear the same face.

It's easier when the game options are laid out for them. Easier still to narrow things down to the most suitable. Both cards and billards would take some extensive explanation and even Tech isn't entirely sure the games he's thinking about are the same offered here. Cards in general could refer to any number of games and in itself, and he highly doubted that Sabacc was one of them.

"Darts," he finally says, glancing at Rokuro after weighing options. Or making mental estimations of how long those heels are.

"That should require minimal explanation and put us all at a fair start."

"Darts it is." The rebels are looking even more pleased with themselves now that they believe they're at an advantage. Tech and Rokuro appear drunk and optically ill-equipped to be of decent aim, not to mention they're new in town. How good at the local games could they possibly be?

"Very well. Let us play." Rokuro takes the 'friendly' hand extended to him by the ringleader as he slips off of his stool, standing almost fawn-like beside him. Tech has seen Rokuro walk in the heels already, and knows very well how quick and graceful he is, but that's their secret. "Thank you."

He even lets the man lead him over to the dart-board by the hand, expertly avoiding an arm around his waist by 'accidentally' losing balance and tipping to one side at the last minute, skirting the touch to stand beside Tech.

"Would you be a gentleman and show us how it's done?" Rokuro's voice always has an airy, breathy quality, and whether it's the alcohol or his commitment to winning this 'game', he is using it to full effect.

Tech pushes away from the bar once Rokuro's stepped away from it, glancing at the firm hand that's placed on his shoulder almost preemptively should he begin to totter, following it up towards the face of the solidly built woman it belongs to. He's quite certain he's seen images of hungry predators with similar expressions and it is hardly reassuring.

Clearing his throat, he pulls away, stumbling only a little when he finds himself suddenly released. Once they're over by the dart-board, he adjusts his goggles as he studies it while Rokuro steps over beside him.

The rebels share a grin amongst themselves before the one steps up to gather up the darts from the board. He positions his fingers around one of the darts, pointing with it at a line marked on the floor. "We throw from here," he says, stepping just behind it. "Numbers 'round the ring are how much you get if you land a dart within that piece of pie. Double the score within the outermost narrow ring, triple towards the center. Math should be easy enough for you," he smirks over at Tech before readying to throw a dart. "Three darts. One-fifty's the max. Whoever's total score's closest or on the mark wins. We'll do three rounds."

And then, to humor Rokuro's request, he lets the dart fly.

He's good. Hitting the bull's eye and a few of the narrow slices surrounding it. ~~It's space darts and I'm not keeping exact score~~.

Rokuro claps with a polite smile while the rebel man removes the darts from the board. Then the man gets close, infiltrating the invisible bubble of Rokuro's personal space to hand over the darts. One at a time. As if he doubts the strength of Rokuro's slender fingers, and their ability to hold them all at once.

"Your turn, pretty boy." Smugly. The true challenge is to resist punching him in the face and inciting a riot. Rokuro brushes past the man and takes position. Toeing the line, he switches his weight from one foot to the other-- and almost stumbles past it when the man wolf-whistles. Loudly. Startling him.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself." More smugly, grinning at his female companion.

If Tech gets a look at Rokuro's singular eye, the intent behind it is nothing less than murderous. Has this page from feudal Japan ever played a game of darts? No, but Rokuro has trained with tiny, needle-like throwing knives for the past decade, and his targets weren't so polite and stationary as a dartboard.

He draws his arm back, narrows his eye, and makes his throws in rapid succession. Two bull's eyes and one larger pie-slice. His score isn't as high as his opponent before him, but it isn't far behind. The man isn't smiling so smugly anymore.

Rokuro doesn't have to hand the darts off to the buff woman, she's already yanking them out of the board, looking less than impressed.

Edited 2022-09-17 05:52 (UTC)

It's almost as difficult not to punch the man himself, but Tech keeps his arms folded, tightly as he eyes the rebel. Rokuro's as much his squad at the moment than anyone else, and none of them would have stood for that kind of treatment of their own. But he also takes note of the look in Rokuro's eye and knows he's not about to let things slide either. But they're not going to dirty their hands with these people, especially if they're ~~unfortunately~~ on the same side.

Rokuro throws his darts with obvious skill, and Tech can't quite suppress the tiny smile of amusement that worms its way across his lips. He manages to smooth his expression out as the woman takes her turn, anticipating by the way she gathers the darts that she means business.

That point is only further punctuated with the force of each dart that she hurls, making the board rattle after each throw. Perhaps a little too much force, her second throw not quite making another bullseye after the first, the third firmly nailing the secondary ring. The woman grunts, not quite pleased with her performance overall, but it's still early in the game. She seems to practically sweep all three darts back into her hand in a single swipe before passing them off to Tech, her eyes lingering on him somewhat more suspiciously than her earlier looks, perhaps more cautious of the two after Rokuro's performance.

Tech steps over to the line, looking at the darts before selecting one between his fingers. He doesn't have his helmet to calculate exact angles but one can bet he's probably doing so in his head to the best of his ability, which really isn't too shabby. Eyes narrowing, he shifts his weight, pulling back his hand and the dart. His throws aren't nearly as swiftly done as the others before him, but that's because he sees no reason to hurry. Neither are they as forceful but rather taking advantage of gravity and gradual parabolas, each dart arcing slightly before plunking into various numbers of the thinner rings. Why yes, he can math just fine thank you.

Edited 2022-09-17 06:51 (UTC)

The woman isn't as rattled as Rokuro hoped she would be, but judging by the force of her throws... she has a temper. After years of wrestling with his own anger, not to mention working for a man who has made a hobby out of irritating him, Rokuro could empathize.

"Oh my. Better luck next time." Obviously not. These people have attempted to bully, threaten, and steal from them. Rokuro won't be happy until they walk out of the bar with empty wallets and wounded egos.

Yes, Rokuro was trained in court protocol almost since birth. Encouraged to be submissive, passive, and polite whenever possible. To respect his superiors, only speak when spoken to, and put his own needs last. Etiquette was always rewarded over empathy. Then he actually met his master, and protocol went out the palanquin window.

There is a certain ruthless joy to watching his unassuming comrade take the highest score in the game.

"Beginner's luck, four-eyes." A low growl from the rebel man, who shoves past Tech to take his spot at he line, doing his best to knock him into the nearest table. Rokuro fights the urge to jump to Tech's defense, and simply turns his attention away from the rebel to inspect his nails.

Leaving the man to look back over his shoulder after he makes his first throw, and miss the next shot out of irritation and disappointment. The third is even more wobbly.

"What do you think, Tech? Shall I paint them blue, or silver."

Given their opponents are already pretty surly, Tech has to wonder if things won't just boil down to a barfight at the end if. He supposes that won't do for everyone else's moods.

He also barely manages not to upset the table that he's bumped into, turning as his hip bumps it to set his hands flat on the surface, steadying both it and his own balance. He straightens from it with just the slightest look cast back at the rebel taking his second turn before glancing over at Rokuro, taking a moment to work out what he's even asking about.

"Would both be too much? They compliment each other well enough," he says after some serious consideration, completely missing the rebel's terrible performance.

"I suppose there is no reason I couldn't... those are the colours of my clan, after all." Rokuro might actually take Tech up on that suggestion. He has only ever painted his fingernails with calligraphy ink, mostly out of boredom when transcribing for excessive periods of time.

"Perhaps I could do yours as well." Luckily for Tech, a sharp kick to the leg of Rokuro's chair cuts off that particular train of thought. The buff woman is glaring down at him, massive arms folded across her chest.

"Dragging this game out for the rest of the night won't save you. Take your turn or surrender. Either way, he's going to be massaging my feet while you rub my shoulders." Rokuro can't help making a face, which doesn't help the woman's mood any, and she all but hauls him out of his chair and onto the line.

"Very well." He straightens his jacket upon standing, and takes position. Refusing to look bothered, even though he is very much bothered. He'll take his aggression out on the dartboard. Rokuro doesn't throw as hard as the woman (his arms are a fraction of the size), but he does hit the bull's eye thrice-- while imagining it's the middle of her forehead.

Walking back from the board, Rokuro takes a detour from his chair to his secondary seat- directly upon Tech's lap. He'll apologize to the clone later. Watching the woman grind her teeth down in red-faced rage as she attempts to set up for her round is entirely worth the breech of etiquette.

It is entirely possible that Rokuro Unno is the most petty being on either planet.

The very thought of administering to those feet prompts not too dissimilar an expression from Tech as he settles into a seat rather than be forced off balance again by these unruly rebels. He can't help but be impressed as Rokuro decides not to pull punches with this second round, fixing his goggles as he peers at the triple bullseye.

As Rokuro steps over towards him he looks up, however completely unprepared when the man uses him as a seat instead. "-?" He is entirely at a loss for what to do, short of pointing out how awkward it is. Things have been warm already for all the alcohol imbibed, but he feels a fresher heat spreading across his face with Rokuro plopped into his lap, and as he sees the woman's reaction he knows exactly what's going on here, quite unsure of how to feel about it.

As expected, the round for her does not go well at all. Her cool composure completely lost, she's lucky her forceful throws manage to bag her a handful of points, leaving the dartboard swaying slightly with the final toss. The seething look she turns Rokuro's way seems barely held back before she relinquishes her place at the line, not even bothering to remove the darts for Tech this time.

"...ah, Rokuro- I believe it's my turn," the clone says with a light tap at his shoulder.

"Of course." Rokuro had gotten quite comfortable watching the rebel woman fail miserably from his warm clone perch. He does move when asked, gracefully slipping from Tech's lap so he can take his next turn. Before Tech moves past him, Rokuro does take a moment to speak to him in a hushed tone, hand lingering upon his bicep.

"You are smarter and stronger than the two of them put together. Show them how how a real warrior takes aim." Tech does love to teach, after all.

The rebels can't see what he's saying to him, only that they are standing closely, and that Rokuro smiles as he resumes his seat. It's enough to make the two begin grumbling at one another, fingers jamming into each others chests with whispered accusations.

This public thrashing was their idea, after all.

Laughter isn't something that comes naturally to Tech, the brief expulsion of breath about as close to it as one can expect from him. He steps over towards the board, finding the first of the darts he reaches for to be deeper than anticipated, not that it's any great feat for him to pluck them out. He takes a moment to finger the holes they've gouged out.

"Keep throwing like that and I think you'll also be owing them a new targeting board," he observes, turning to walk back to the line there. He squints over at the target as he rolls the barrel of a dart between his fingers and thumb.

"It's not all about force, not necessarily. True enough that force is effective in carrying the flechette across the distance, but making it hit the target efficiently would require a consistent means of energy put behind its initial launch. By use of a bow an arrow can fly a great distance and all one has to do is provide enough tension in the opposite direction, but on the whole you're keeping the main part of the shaft stationary. With a dart, you're moving the entire thing, and whatever aim you initially take can be easily compromised by any amount of factors when you move your arm. Speed, timing, angle... For instance, when you throw," he says, nodding at the first rebel, "-your arm is tensed, but remains so even once you let your dart go. Attempting to keep too much control, sometimes it works in your favor, but it's unreliable."

He dips his head towards the woman. "And when you throw, it appears that you're putting everything into it. These are darts, not balls. They have less air resistance, but you're not taking full advantage of it and doing all the work. These aren't hitting straight on because you're practically throwing them downwards. Now then-"

After all that, his own toss seems anticlimactic for its delivery, the dart flung after a quick pause to do some mental gymnastics. He tosses the next in similar fashion, and then the last.

Rokuro is impressed, and when he stands up from his seat to clap for Tech, the smile on his face is genuine. Tech's opponent, on the other hand, looks like she's considering the pros and cons of crushing a very different set of balls by the time he's finished his lecture.

"First rule when I own your ass for the night? No talking." Rokuro is poised to get between them if necessary, but after some huffing and puffing she stalks back to her partners side like an angry lioness, where she continues to glare daggers in their direction.

Against the expected odds, Rokuro and Tech are in the lead, which has their competitors both furious and shaken. Given they've already spent their stipends, can they really afford a round on the house, not to mention the rest of Rokuro and Tech's bar-tabs?

If Rokuro were a bigger (and more sober) person, he might offer to end the match in a draw to spare any permanently sore feelings and broker peace. Instead, he'll resume his seat upon Tech's lap the moment the clone takes his chair, and make a show of crossing one leg over the other when he does it. Sandaled heel dangling from his toes in what his culture would consider to be an exceedingly provocative fashion.

Quietly, as this actually isn't intended for their opponents ears (though it may still reach and enrage them), Rokuro inclines his head towards Tech. "You continue to exceed my expectations." High praise coming from the unappeasable nag of Ueda.

There's just something about how proud Rokuro looks of him that eases something of a brighter smile from Tech himself. Effectively it has him completely oblivious to the woman's expression, at least until she speaks up. It effectively pulls that smile into a displeased frown, finding the implication of being owned nor allowed to speak quite distasteful. But he stands his ground, or at least until she backs off and he meanders back to his earlier seat.

He more or less expects to be a cushion for Rokuro again once he sits, but he imagines they must strike quite the image...although he's not quite sure what that image might be. Rokuro's praise is unexpected, Tech's brows lifting before he offers a wan smile.

"Last round," the other rebel not quite growls, looking less certain of himself as he pushes away from the table he'd been standing by, retrieving the darts from the board. He pointedly avoids looking at his companion. This round has to be flawless and even then it doesn't guarantee they'll cinch things. They've been played from the start, but that's hardly something he's going to admit as he takes position.

True to Tech's observations, his throwing arm is tensed. Now that it's been pointed out, the man internally tries to find a work-around out of a technique he's likely been using for a long time now. He finds himself second-guessing himself as he has a couple false starts, the pressure of this being the final round not at all working in his favor. The first dart doesn't even reach the board, thunking off the wall a few feet below it. His last two are obviously thrown in desperation, only one nailing a spot within the innermost rings and purely by chance.

Given their lack of visible tethering charms, its possible their opponents think they are together in some romantic sense of the word, or they might just assume that Rokuro, what with his questionable fashion choices, is simply the type of man to 'seat' around.

For once, Rokuro doesn't particularly care. Back home, he wouldn't be caught dead acting so coquettish in public, for fear of the way it would reflect on his master and family. When he did drink in excess, which was incredibly infrequently, he still maintained a certain level of propriety.

Here... well. The liquor is stronger, much stronger, and there's nobody relying on him. If Rokuro passed out face-down in a ditch, drowned, and haunted the place of his death, he really would be just a nameless river-whore, as Jinpachi implied.

"My. That first throw was impressive. I did not know it was possible to miss the board entirely." The smile he offers his opponent has none of the warmth or affection he showed Tech. If anything, Rokuro's expression is colder and more aloof than ever. Now that they're in the final round with a steady lead, he has no need to play at innocence. The man looks like he wants to hit him, and for a moment Rokuro wishes he would, if only so he would have an excuse to stop playing and hit back-- and that's when he knows he's had one too many drinks.

"Let us get this over with." Rokuro pulls away from Tech, retrieves the darts, and takes his place at the line. The two rebels are talking negatively about him, just loudly enough for Rokuro to hear, but he is far too close to victory for their opinions to matter.

He breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth, and whips all three darts at the same time with one hand, in the style of the ninja he has fought so long and hard beside. All three find their marks within the tiny triple-ring.

The rebel man leaps to his feet, clearly intent on saying a few of those unsavoury names directly to his face. Without blinking, Rokuro simply places two fingers upon his chest and pushes him back down again.

"You may want to think twice about what you call me, as I am still clearly superior to you." If Rokuro is a bitch, that makes his opponent the refuse of one.

"That is simply skill," Tech can't help but point out, but he's clearly impressed by the performance. The comment gets a sharp look from the woman that would have split him in half had it the physical force to go with it.

The clone had gotten to his feet the moment the other man had, ready to jump to Rokuro's defense if anything went beyond words, but Rokuro's clearly in a completely different zone. The bold display and even bolder words throw the rebel off for whatever he'd been about to say, gaping at Rokuro like a freshly landed fish.

"Rokuro," Tech says quietly as he comes up beside him, setting a hand on his shoulder. They've only two more to go and they can be gone from this place. It wouldn't do for things to get ugly now. Although Tech might say that it's already gotten so as he pointedly tries to avoid looking the rebel woman in the face. Rage certainly does nothing for her features, and as she wrenches the darts free of the target she nearly takes the board along with it.

She at least manages to hold her poise better than her partner as she hurls her darts. It isn't as bad as her previous round but at this point nothing really mattered after Rokuro's display.

A deep breath. Tech, contrary to most people, knows how to calm him. If Rokuro's emotion is met with emotion, he will only become more emotional and difficult to reason with. Logic and gentle (or firm) reassurance is all that really assuages his anxiety and anger.

He could talk badly of the woman's turn, but she did so poorly... it's more insulting to simply remain silent, and let her be angry and disappointed of her own volition. Besides, Tech's hand on Rokuro's shoulder is enough to earn another sneer before she takes a heavy seat beside her shell-shocked partner.

Rokuro lifts his hand to meet his touch, and makes direct eye-contact.

"Finish them."

"Gladly."

Tech steps over to the board, picking out each dart. They may as well have been playing a private game for the lack of attention he directs towards their opponents, but he'd read them from the start as easy to upset and bringing emotions to the table tended to affect performance for good or bad.

He's not after impossible bullseyes, but he's not above showing off in his own way, even if no one else would likely understand the significance. First toss, a triple twenty. Second, a double fifteen. The final toss sails into the broad space of the nine. He dusts his hands off, looking almost smug at his accomplishment.

"Ninety-nine." A pleased smile from Rokuro, who at least partially understands the significance. All their opponents see is a devastating loss at the hands of two newbies who looked like easy marks.

Even drunk, Rokuro isn't really someone who 'hugs', but he does clasp Tech's hands when he returns in some form of... strange congratulatory squeeze? Looking back over his shoulder at the rebel (literal) losers, Rokuro thoroughly enjoys this next statement.

"Our new friends are paying for a round of drinks on the house." While the majority of patrons hadn't been paying much attention to their game, they are very much invested in the spoils of their victory, and already placing their orders at the bar. Given the losers promise to pick up the rest of Rokuro and Tech's tab for the rest of the night, they should do the same before the crowd is unmanageable.

Rokuro exhales, head bowing. All of the righteous indignation leaving him at once.

"I... think I may have had enough."

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