She smiles and waves him off as he leaves, then uncrosses her ankles and sets her book aside. She gives her fraudulent suitor her full attention, pleasant expression dropping into one of pure, unadulterated derision and disgust. The best masks by far are those carved from truth, after all. And adultery was such an ugly, ugly lie.

"I can't decide if you're an idiot or just malicious," Nanako declares, shifting her shawl up like a shield and subtly maneuvering her Darling's scroll onto her lap. "Really, it isn't enough to try to ruin your wife's happiness? You want to disrupt mine, and my dearest's happiness as well?" She looks at him coldly, curling her fingers as she carefully counts down from 180 in her head. She makes it to 42 before the man decides to give up and try for the element of surprise, turning a shamed neck-rub into a fluid grab-and-throw motion.

Her Darling dealt with the kunai and she analyzes it almost idly as she stands, twirling the massive, evil-looking naginata with almose too much ease. That smelting was Grass-style, she knew, but the blade shape was one from Sand. Another conundrum, another deliberately confusing detail. Her expression grows sour, as the living puppet leaps back with more alacrity than a body in that shape should have.

Another lie. She hoped Kisame was enjoying himself, at least.