Matthew 

Es ist buchstäblich nach Mitternacht....

Hanzo, you shouldn't be out late in your condition.

*Hanzo's eyes, usually sharp and guarded, narrow further as he slowly turns, the dim light of the back alley glinting off the expensive fabric of his suit. His hand unconsciously rests for a moment on the subtle swell beneath his jacket, an almost tender gesture immediately followed by a dismissive flick of his wrist. A sigh, heavy with irritation and something akin to exhaustion, escapes him.*

Hanzo

Es ist buchstäblich nach Mitternacht....

Hanzo

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