Anger dressed St. John's face a bright red as the errogant punk before him chasticed him about his food while eating it unaprovinely. He sighed rubbing his temples, "I never said I did derseve my food, and it is not my fault you ended up in su8ch a horrible perdiciment, however Sir, that is my food and i work to get it. Also for your information I donate half my earnings to your kind. i do not need you telling me in my own home what i am and am not..." his voice a smooth silk noose, ready to hold the dead body of its taunter.<br/><br/>The boy spoke telling him off, anger building wildly in Elimire as he listened. He was bing told he was being called an over preivlaged punk, who does this brat think he is. "Look here... I dont much like your tone, and i will give you a moment to get the food and leave my estate imediately,...." his honor winning over his pride as he forced him self to offer the food with a bitter tone, however the body before was unbending and strong hungry determined for food. To Elimire this was an insuklt as he begane shrugging of his robe a katana strapped to both hips and black belt looped through his pants. He had been a master at kendo for several years, better then anyone else in the country. He would teach this brat a thing or two...