<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Shizuru, Demon Samurai Bartender</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div align="center">(http://i1264.photobucket.com/albums/jj499/MzHyde/Character%20Portraits/Nakaru.jpg)</div></div></div><strong>Location:</strong>Office<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Jack, Marc<br/><br/>Shizuru just turned away and peered out the window while Marc responded to her. She stood quietly and silently, idly smoking her cigarette. Run a portion of the city? Lofty dreams from Marc. Did he really think that would be something she'd want? ...Maybe it would be fun enough to try but.. nah. Too much hassle. The notion that this era was even remotely similar to ancient Japan was laughable. At least in the old days they had a modicum of honor and dignity. Granted, the supposed 'warlords' were generally the same power-hungry mongrels, but at least the warfare had a bit of class and style to it. Edged weapons and single combat were so much more attractive than gangbangers, whores, and drive-bys.<br/><br/>She listened idly as Marc addressed Jack, half paying attention. When he spoke to her again she gave the faintest tilt of her head and shifted her gaze in the nephilim's direction, "...Is that one of the two jobs you had for me? Because if it's not, my answer is no. I'm also going to have to go ahead and ask why you need demonic blood. We're both well aware of what you can do with it and how dangerous it can be."