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Hana considered himself to have a resounding patience. However, this was pushing it.

How long had it been since he had seated himself here? An hour, forty-five minutes? However long it really was it was too long. Too long to stay seated in silence, too long to stay in a bare-bones room with absolutely no taste to provide interest in absentmindedness and the like. The chairs were also extremely uncomfortable.

In honesty, the man (if you could call him that now) admired their bravery. Surely they would know of him and his...dubious reputation as a recognized Kishin. He was surprised that they were treating him like anyone else would without proper knowledge. The secretary, or whatever you want to call the worthless spawn these days, certainly recognized the walking detonation and took extreme precautions against upsetting him.

Of course, Hana did not mind being treated normally. He liked it, in fact. He was too long used to the privileges of a name, a place in society where people moved aside for your presence. Not out of respect (well, some respect) but of fear. Without a name, he was just another body in a vastly crowded world. Sometimes he wished for such simplicity...

This was not one of those times, though.

His impatient tapping of fingers filled the air. The Kishin was not upset, of course. He hasn't the slightest clue as to why they were taking so long, nor could he deduce a reasonable answer to his own question. That saved their literal skin.

How unfortunate. He didn't particularly like this lot.

Finally. A voice other than his own. Hana turned in the chair, thinking he might find a scientist, a businessman or the like-

But it was to be naught. Some assassin or something of theirs. He sighed, exasperated. He was now quite irritated. He hoped to goodness this wasn't the person he was supposed to be talking with. It'd be so troublesome picking through the rubble and wreckage of a place like this.

The other seemed to recognize him (of course he recognized him) but he did not recognize him. Well. He did. He's seen his face, felt his bewitched wavelength, seen his actions. Of course, he didn't personally know him, nor did he know his name. He also didn't care to know, either way.

Another saving of putrid skin.

But the Kishin did feel complied to answer honestly. "I am waiting, what else?" he answered, snarky and to the point as always. Even his humorless self found that to be somewhat amusing. "One of your higher-ups, oh. What was his name. Someone wanted to renegotiate our, how do you say. Terms."

He used that word somewhat lightly. There never was an actual agreement between the two sides of Drago and Hana. More of 'I will examine your material and you may look at what I show you,' from both benefactors. Obviously no one really got anywhere. But what choice did Hana have? These lot are entirely authoritarian in everything they did.

He refused to become their tool.

Another figure, another letdown. Substantially.

Like the last man, this person lacked that certain authority that graced those of business and science. Though perfectly confident and capable, he could tell, Mr. Spears certainly was missing the essentials.

He'd love to analyze him more, but this process was beginning to lose itself.

Hana's fingers now resumed their rhythmical tapping, his gaze hardened and callous. Indeed, if anyone could properly discern wavelength, they would notice that the Kishin's was fluxuating uncontrollably in random patterns. He was having difficulty composing himself under this. Did these fools really think they could satisfy them with such simpletons? Him, of all people, who could rip each and every one of them limb from limb until all that remained were disfigured torsos?

Adruptly, he stopped his train of thought. Such glimmers of megalomania were not going to help him. He sighed aloud, leaning back in his chair. "Certainly YOU'RE not the one in demand to meet me," he mused, his expression as cold as Spears's. His voice remained in one tone, but those with a trained ear could notice the influence of Hispanic origin...

That remark sent Hana into a sudden silence.

The air now, indeed, filled with an insatiable agitation and anger. No doubt it was the work of the Kishin's spastic wavelength, mimicking the actions now of the ability Outreach. It was, of course, suppressed by his weakening will, but with each snide remark the Anger got stronger than the will.

The man's fists clenched to the table. He hadn't noticed that another being had entered. His madness was now calling to his every bit of attention and need. The gritting of his teeth was as loud as the crack of the table, which was made with about two inches of a kind of titanium alloy of sorts, now breaking under the strain of brute force.

Then, the turning point.

"Then why the bloody ******** are you here?!!" Hana's voice roared, punctuating the air with Brazilian fury. He was now at his feet, his hands now gripping a piece each of the supposedly indestructible alloy. Likewise, the outburst was quite out of place. It had been a minute or so since William had made the remark. Nevertheless, it left the room as speechless and wordless as the desire to describe Hana's unquenchable temper.

After a good thirty seconds of stunned stupor, a small lift of the man's lips to a smirk indicated it was for naught.

"I apologize, everyone," he declared, undeterred by awkwardness, "I just wanted to see how you lot would react." He sat back down, the metal that was just in his fists now laying on the floor at his feet.

"'New members?'" repeated Hana, puzzled by the man's statement. Well. Statements.

He could almost laugh at how pathetic they were. "I am not 'new', nor would I consider myself base enough to be called a participating person of this frat club." His expression had returned to that of indifference and only mild amusement, his typical look on things. Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a fresh cigarette and match, striking the light against the table.

"No, hardly new at all, given my age. Tell me, were you old enough to remember the drop of the first atomic bomb? No, I thought not." The Kishin took in a long drag, his mouth slowly exhaling the toxic substance, indirectly at the face of the bespectacled meister.

"Oh, and what on earth suggests I'm 'saving face', as you call it?" he pondered, leaning back slyly into the black leathered seat. "If anything it would be you doing such an action, given your absolute refusal to answer my original question of why you graced yourself to be here."

As for his partner, he responded apathetically. He was immune to advances of the opposite sex, given he had lost such desires years ago. "Rudeness? Hardly. As I said, he is merely saving face in the face of someone obviously," he paused, taking in another intake of smoke and releasing it as he spoke, "much more intelligent than him."

Oh, how he wanted to kill that man.

Then again, you would think the simple task of answering a GOD DAMNED QUESTION is reasonable and befitting of such an idiot- man. But apparently, in Hana's world of incapable fools and such, it didn't appear to be so. He sighed, exasperated as he stamped out the glowing embers of the cigarette. It did not appear that he was going to get an answer for his summons, least from him-

The woman's sudden action made him blink, if anything. The ashes jumped up into the smoky air, settling back to where they were as if calming themselves.

Her question was just as sudden. And idiotic. The Kishin glared at the vixen nonchalantly as usual, accustomed to such situations. "As to what, exactly?" he asked in return, but he would not wait for her to answer. He was tired of waiting.

"If you are asking what I make of you, then you should look to your 'master', of sorts. I assume the both of you are accustomed to receiving what you want." He turned, opening the door that was just recently closed, but paused at its archway.

"As to what I feel of you. That would be nothing."

[Exits]