Doc Holiday was waxing rhapsodic as the local Cowboy watering hole. He began politely enough, though there have been a hint of sarcasm underneath his drunken slur, “Why Flint, why Gomen, does this mean we’re all not friends anymore? You know, if I thought you weren’t my friend… I just don’t think I could bear it!” Then while caressing his holstered revolver with the gentleness of a new lover a gleam shone from his suddenly sharp eyes. “If you weren’t my friend, we just might have to play for blood the next time we play.”
He chuckled then added, “The truth is there is no difference between Pirates and Ninjas. They are all reckless, dishonorable thieves. And not the good kind. I calculate we’ll all be better off once their like has been vanquished.”