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Post by Kuwabatake Sanjuro on Mar 25, 2009 13:59:26 GMT -5
The fact that he had no idea where he was did not disturb the samurai. He was used to that; preferred it, in fact. Once he was done with a place, with a job, he seldom looked back. That was the sentimental way, and not his. What was there to look back for? Another few gold pieces, another bottle of sake... Sometimes he thought with fondness on certain battles, but he did not let himself dwell on them. Life was cheap enough, without someone like him gloating over its loss.
It was safe to say, however, that Paris was entirely new to him. Any discomfort he had with this was not visible on his stern features, and he walked with the casual grace of a large cat, not hungry enough to be immediately dangerous but capricious enough that danger seemed imminent. Scratching his stubbled chin, he shrugged his arm back into the sleeve of his kimono and looked up appraisingly at the rich architecture rising around him. A fat people, he concluded, comfortable and complacent.
There would be money here.
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