Slave. [Matoba repeats with another flat glance. Not that the oni look like they're buying it; Sutoku's Lieutenants made themselves known well enough after the casino opening last month, and the chaos that ensued.]

[Still, they weren't going to turn out one of their own, so after a grunt, the oni waves a hand at them and turns back to chopping meat, albeit perhaps a little more forcefully than before. Matoba invites himself up to the counter, pulling out a chair.]

Very convincing, [He prods, flipping over a menu that is practically thrown at them.] Not the sort to think on your feet, are you? Are you sure you're adept with magic?

Ah, I will have tea, [Matoba chimes up towards the chef, who glares daggers towards him.]