Nose against the rain-streaked window, she watched Jiro converse with tattooed suits down below. The Oni looked up before she could withdraw; his turbulent scowl deepened as he noticed her.Moments later re-entered the flat.
"More Triad grunt-work. Handbooker's skimming the profits; extra muscle required.”
"You should've let me negotiate; my Chinese is... “Jiro silenced her with a look.
"I swore I'd protect you: a deathbed promise. Even from yourself. Those hoods? No better than your pirate friend."
"Jiro," she pleaded, "I'm going stir-crazy here..."
"Especially from yourself. You need discipline; instruction, Ame!"
Hard-faced, he locked her in again.