Today, Bakura had moved his usual weapons maintenance outside to the covered veranda that ran the width of the building. Except instead of trying to escape the patches of sun, he'd taken up residence in one, one leg folded comfortably to provide a steady rest for the curved sword he was currently sharpening. Despite the heat of the day, he seemed perfectly comfortable where he was. A whetstone made long, smooth passes over the blade's tapered edge, with a familiarity that spoke of having done the task many times before.

"Hello biahbenat," he greeted, when he saw Pepper approach.