The night is a quiet one. There is a quiet tension looming about the man seated there, silently polishing his guns and preparing them for his next outing. Shougo knew well there was no reasoning with these people - not in this goddamn city. Violence was the language they spoke, and he was quite fluent in it himself.

He doesn't lift his head when he can feel the presence of another. "How long are you going to stand there?" he asks, flat and curt.