It's nice to be home, nevermind if she's getting mud all over the proverbial carpet. (To the gatekeepers' credit they didn't so much as bat an eyelash when she cleared inspection leaking half of Rain from her barely recognizable tabi boots.)

...She fucking hates Amegakure, passed through enough times to dread the inevitable detours she'll have to make in the future. It's for the most part a swampy deathtrap, rife with missing-nin and waterborne illnesses and rude locals, no single one being necessarily any less terrible than the other.

Waterlogged and hungry do not a happy kunoichi make, and as soon as she's dry enough to sit down without causing some sort of unsightly stain, or puddle, or combination of the two, she does so at the nearest source of Actual Sustenance she can find. (A small udon shop.)

She orders two portions, scratching idly as she waits at the spiral tattoo on her shoulder, hidden under her left sleeve. (Then fidgets with the prosthetic attached just a couple inches under the scarlet ink.) As soon as the noodles arrive she starts on the first batch with all the grace of an ANBU who's just returned from a three-month desert mission.

(Feel free to join her, just don't expect her to talk until she's inhaled no less than half her bowl.)