In stubborn defiance of at least some cultural stereotypes, Hanzo had a tolerance greater than most men his size. Years of intensive training while nursing a habit just on the edge of dependence would do that. Hanzo was unflinching when he took a quick pull straight from the bottle before setting back on the table with a dull thud.

"Only because you are a strange man who says strange things," Hanzo had to work consciously around the language barrier now, "Amused is one word for it."

Attracted another, more dangerous one. Hanzo had formed no attachments in several years but he had come to recognize something magnetic about Jesse. As the word implied, he was drawn to him. Jesse was scruffy and almost too convincing in the slow-witted front he put up to others but beneath the rough and tumble he was simply a very handsome man. At the bottom of that glass he seemed to find that realization.

"You are," Hanzo inched forward; the serape sliding off his bare shoulder - they were close and there wasn't much room on the couch for two fully grown men, "A man with much on his mind."

It was a game at this point. Who pushed furthest, who moved first.