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Bushi grumbled something in frustrated Japanese when he accepted the bottle of vodka and sipped it. The alcohol was not one of his favourites, but the sentiment was one he appreciated. "Thank you, friend. I'm still confused as to how my bottle god bro..." 

[B]"Alright then, this is starting to get interesting. [u]Liquid manipulation. [/u]" [/b] Bushi lifted his head to glare at the Siren, a storm brewing behind a stern gaze. Bushi may not have been the first to put two and two together, but he certainly wasn't going to ignore it, when the truth was dangled like a morsel in front of his nose. He grumbled something else in Japanese, before taking another, larger gulp of Vodka, before handing it back to Angel.

Bushi would be lying if he didn't admit he expected Mia to mop the floor with Cerulean: even in her human form. Bushi never really got the opportunity to spar with the Werewolf, but the initiation fight they had was...an enjoyable affair, to say the least. The intricacy and ferocity she imbued into her warrior's craft was a sight to behold by any warrior worth his or her respective salt. Yet throughout it all, the Prince-ling kept up his defence and, despite the disrespectful way he acquired the liquid, he used it admirably and efficiently to block, push back and hold the Lycanthrope at bay.

Then the boy did something incredible: He landed a blow on Mia. Any pseudo hostility melted away in a sort of half-smirk as he felt a level of respect well up in his bosom. Mia could probably count the number of people that had managed to injure her in a one-on-one fight on her fingers. Bushi suddenly felt an urge to fight again. To fight Mia or to fight the prince: either would be a delight. His hand itched for a weapon: something to strike out with, to be one with. As the urge grew deeper and deeper, his smirk widened. 

…And then Mia promptly ended the fight. Her bestial form was always a sight to behold and when she reached the zenith of her half-transformation, Bushi felt a tendril of worry forming in his gut. Was Mia going to take it too far? Bushi started to lurch forward when Mia stopped herself with a pat on the Siren's shoulder. No, Mia was in full control and Bushi's worry was unfounded. He felt his hand gripping a phantom weapon: which had a wave of longing wash over the god-warrior. The lack of his blade felt like the phantom limb he no longer had. His covered eye felt deader than ever as his reminiscing brought back the loss of himself.

“This is where I’d drink my Sake…If it wasn’t on the floor.” He gave Cerulean another look; his eyes squinted as if anger was mounting. After a few seconds of holding the stare, he offered a little smile: trying to distract his mind with the thoughts of friendship and camaraderie, instead of dwelling on what was lost. “That was a fine showing, Prince. You gave Mia a bit of a workout, not many people in the Peacekeeper’s can claim that. I mean, you didn’t quite get her hot and bothered, but that can come later: I’m sure.” 

Bushi chuckled at his own, poor-in-taste joke. The distraction technique was working somewhat and his dull emptiness faded away behind the thought that Mia would probably end up trying to punch him. “I think I should fully introduce myself now, since you’re part of the team. The name is Bushi; I’m the awakened spirit of a Kami-A demigod-made flesh. I’m the guy who hits stuff with a sword and wastes the unit’s budget on alcohol.” He offered his right hand to the Siren, making sure to keep his free hand in between himself and Mia, who might decide to deliver a very sharp blow in retaliation.